just in case it isn't blindingly clear to everyone

1. i have severe mental illness.  i should be going to therapy, but i'm so overworked at work that i don't have the time to take off to go to see a therapist.
1. because therapists have to work normal hours too, because we're not so horrible to make them deal with crazy people when they should be with their families.
2. and no, i can't just take time off from work.  because i have to have money for food, duh.
2. i promise i'll go to therapy in the next six months.  i think i can schedule things out so that that all works.  i really hate where i'm at right now, and it's a bad place.
1. partially because there are really only two options at this point:
1. i kill myself in a probably messy manner, and ignore everything after that.
2. i keep drinking and eating badly until my heart just decides to stab my brain with fat cells.
3. i drink too much, because you can't just buy xanax at the store, but you can buy vodka, and for a short, fleeting moment, vodka can replicate the results of xanax, if you don't mind puking the next morning.
1. if you drink propel water in the morning, you get to taste the super sweet not-sugar they use when you puke it up.
1. it's kind of the best way to puke, if you're going to puke.
1. but you probably shouldn't puke if you can, because that's kind of gross.
1. and not a lot of fun to do, anyway.
2. "oh!  this puke tastes like fake grapes! Yummy!"
4. i do have more stories i'd like to tell.  i want to put them in order and send them out.  i can't.  see point 1 if you're confused why this is the case.
1. it's this whole thing of wanting to write, and then doing so, and then hating everything i've written, and then there's a battle of trying to rewrite the bad things, and write new not-bad things, and then just giving up and deleting everything except for the notes, and going back three weeks later.
2. over and over and over again.
3. do you want spoilers?
1. the next part is essential to the over-arching love story i bolted on after i wrote the first part.
2. but it's zero sex, and kind of feels super contrived at points
3. so i'm not sure people will like or care about it
4. so i have to make sure it works, right?
5. because if it doesn't, then no one will want to read the next-next part, which does have sex.
1. right?
2. checking....
3. ok, no, not actual sex, but that's totally got the kink going on, so maybe it's ok?
4. crap.  i hit backspace and fucked up the numbers.  how do i fix this?  return?
5. nope.
6. fuck
7. 
   
8. shit.
9. 
   
10. go backwards, you jerks!
11. pretend this is now 4.4.  
1. but why does this matter?  i don't really know any of you.  i'd be sad if Mr. Christopher or Mr. Veterinarian or Key (title unknown) didn't like it, but most of the other hundreds of people who show up in my "blog view count" thingy i don't know.
1. so maybe i shouldn't care? and just do my own thing?
2. but maybe you do care?  and you're just as concerned as me?
3. and don't forget the Jesse who comments, who's Jesse as in Jesse from Sammy's Blog.
4. Pikachu.
1. why are you talking about pokemon, sammy?
1. because sometimes i find pokemon pictures on tumblr and i forget that i'm old and gross and not like 12 again.
2. and because i edited this post, so for this point to be at all relevant, i have to add something else.
1. deal with it.
12. but getting to the point, if i'm writing for me, why does anyone else's opinion matter?  it shouldn't, because i really just want to say what makes me happy.  because if i can't be happy with my own thoughts, what's going to happen to me?
13. point 1.  point 4.1.
14. so
4. i want to write more stories.
5. i'm really sorry i'm so fucked up.  i wish i were better at pulling my brain together and dealing with things like everyone else.  i wish i didn't immediately see the worst things that could ever happen if i do what i think is best.
1. when you can only see horrors for all of your actions, it's hard to choose an action to take.
2. i'm sorry if you sent me a message, and i saw it while so super super drunk, and then i responded with absolute nonsense.  i've been better at not responding drunk recently, but this past week has been hard.
3. i wish i had a secret backup story i could pull out so people would be happy.
1. i don't.
2. sorry.
6. i know some people will say nice things in the comments.  that's great, but you don't really need to.  pretty much any comment is fine for me.  i know that "did you know that orangutans are threatened by habitat loss brought on by the deforestation caused by palm oil farming?" is functionally the same as "i don't hate you, sammy.  i know you'll get better and write cool stuff again."
1. but seriously, i'm so sad about the orangutans, but i can't call girl scouts "fucking monsters" because their cookies use palm oil.
1. especially when i'm buying like 9 boxes.
1. and because you shouldn't swear at little kids, because then it's all "you're the jerk" and you try to explain about the orangutans, but no one really wants to listen, and seriously, this is probably a bit advanced for even the parents you're shouting at.
1. so.
1. :(
2. and thanks.  i'm trying my best, and i know i'm failing right now, but maybe next week, next month, next year, i'll sort shit out, and get into a better place, and we can all just perv out together.
1. that'd probably be weird.
2. we could just all apologize a bit, and then go have pizza or something.
1. or, you know.  pizza.
1. mandatory pizza.
1. for everyone.
1. everywhere.
1. PIZZA
2. now i kind of want pizza.

• numbered
• or bulleted lists
• are kind of
• cool
• useful
• fun to write.
• sorry.
• :(

just in case:

i made a new blog which will hopefully be clean in the purge.

http://sammyiscrazysorry.blogspot.com/2015/02/hey.html

hopefully i've sanitized this enough that google won't burn it all down.  if google does burn it all down, send me a message, and i'll try to see if sending you the thing i got from google makes sense to you.

i have no clue how to make a sammy808.atom file make sense.  it's like text, but all i seem to find is comments, and not my stuff?  if you want the google thing, you probably want the image links i can't have anymore.  are they there?  who knows?  not me, anyway.

so, hey, great job google/blogger. you got me to make three blogs to talk about how fucked up i am.  congratulations?

anyone else get that "last days of the world" apocalypse feeling, where you kind of don't care what you say or do, because this is all going up in flames tomorrow?

well

not tomorrow.

march 23, i guess, because google has no sense of style.

"He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass."

i mean, it's right fucking there.  "let's close shit up in march, when should we do it?"

"we could do an allegory to julius-"

"MARCH 23! THAT IS BEST DATE EVER!"

"ok, march 23.  let's do that."


so...

what should we talk about, knowing that less than thirty days from now, all this will be wiped out forever.  condemned to the dust?

"are you out of vodka, sammy?"

yes.  totally out of vodka.  no gin, no vodka, no jack.  is jack a valid liquor?  i have no whiskey now, not even the jack daniels.  i like this taste in my tea.  i should buy more of the jack daniels to put into tea to drink whilst pretending i'm totally not the alcoholic i was a few months ago.

SPOILER!

i'm totally the same alocoholic.  i'm just better at not posting drunken rants.

"oh, but what's this you're doing?"

whatever.  fuck you.  like, seriously.  take something, and go fuck yourself with it, in whichever hole is appropriate.  like i ever cared about you.  you're just some jerks on the internet, trying to coax me into sending me nudes.  i'm gross now, dumbasses.  i'm all fat and i don't shave much, and it's all just gross on top of gross.  want nudes?  want to puke?

ok, that's a bit harsh.  i should not treat the end of the world quite so harshly.  i mean, it's not like people are going to die or anything.  we're just going to have blogs that are read by no one, and no one will ever care about people named sammy.

which, honestly, is probably the best thing.  i'm a bad person, and i do dumb things.  i'm not someone you should look up to.  i'm the warning you should have seen in high school:

"Here we see a decadent woman.  She's lost her sense of control.  Now, all she can think about is her own carnal desires."

whatever.

i saw a thing today that was like, "the horrors of communist lesbian bondage."

my thought: "OMG: HOW CAN I GET THAT?"

i mean, you're going to tie me up, force me to be super friendly with cool chicks, and then, when we're done, we're going to topple the patriarchal bourgeoisie so we can eat waffles and mac&cheese forever?

how...

how is this not a thing i can do right now?

i am so glad i found some xanax from last time i had a prescription.

my heart no longer feels like it's going to shoot out of me, and my brain is delightfully less concerned with everything.

i hate having panic attacks all the time.

:(

seven left.  i need to go talk to a doctor soon.

"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.
:(

so, hey. things.

i have a tumblr.  not that one.  a secret private one for just me.  and i follow a lot of people.  and sometimes i look at it, and wonder why i follow some of the people i do.  so i look at their stuff.  and it's all a lot of sad, depressing things.

i'm sorry you feel that way, tumblr person.  i will never unfollow you, because i'm there with you, trying my best to keep the crazy thoughts in my brain from killing me.

sorry i'm crazy.

drunk jerk sammy was right that i should apologize again.  she's a bitch on a lot of other things.

yes, i went to the emergency room.  yes, it was because i did something stupid.  no, i did not try to kill myself.  and yes, i don't want to talk about it ever again.  i was fine, i could drive myself there, and i apologized to everyone for making them deal with me and my stupid shit.

i am apparently healthy.  i lost five pounds since last time i went to the doctor, and according to the tests i had to do, my liver is "normal" and not "wtf are you doing?"  so drinking tea is a good thing if you have a serious problem with social anxiety and use vodka to deal with that.  even if you sometimes pour vodka into your tea.  you're mostly drinking tea, so it's better than just a bunch of vodka.  yay.

i plan to take the trash out tomorrow.  or organize the trash.  i think i need to do a bag or two each week.  that should keep me out of the bad zone.

i have like 200 things in my tumblr queue now.  i want to try to keep things in it, so there's a stream of things there.  not like my reblogging is important.  it isn't.  i'm just looking at junk and saying, "hey, i like that, too bad my brain is junk."

too bad my brain is junk.

i almost wrote some today.  very nearly got writing accomplished.  i'm afraid it can only happen on three day weekends now.  like that is the only way to destress enough to put my thoughts together.  that's shitty.  i need to work on how much i hate my life.


did you read Mr. Sador's "The Right Track"?  that's the latest, so you should go back and read the other parts.  i've been enjoying that this past week or two.

i have other stories i need to read eventually.  i am bad at this entire aspect of my life.

also responding to people.  is it too late to respond if your brain fucked up for a month between receiving and responding to the message?  please let me know.  i feel like i should respond, but i don't want to look like a jerk.


sorry i'm not as good as i wish i could be.  sorry i have to hide a lot of the time to keep myself me.  sorry i have to apologize for the me i have to be.

sorry.

dear tomorrow sammy,

when you wake up, you're going to have a super gross mouth.  you're going to be all, "wtf, this is like i ate a swamp."  no, sammy, you didn't eat a swamp.

what you did was leave late-night drunk sammy with nothing but calbee nori-shio chips.  so i ate them.  not all of them.  a bunch of them.

so that's why you have gross mouth.  i ate a bunch of delicious chips.  fuck you.


also, you probably should do a "sorry i'm crazy" post, and tell people about how you had to go to the emergency room.  that's a fun story you probably don't want to share.  dummy.

at least you're not dying so fast.  so that's something, jerk.

but yeah, tell everyone about the tumblr queue you're going to try to not fuck up this time.  and the stories you could probably write if you didn't do dumb shit all night long.  and how you're "totally going to keep my apartmnet clean".  the bathroom trash is on the floor again.  good job lasting like less than a week.  keep this up, and you totally won't have 22 bags of trash to take out next time you have to have someone look at your apartment.

ok, time to go to sleep, and wake up tomorrow and feel bad about how much you need to explain because i wrote this now.

i probably should love you more than i do, but i don't, and we probably should go to therapy to work on this.

dumbass.

because i've had the sads all week long. sorry.

because maybe some people don't know they're wrong?

i've decided what i want to be when i grow up.

i want to be the person who pets red pandas all day, so they know that they're the cutest animals in the world.

i hate having to can

when it's clear that i can't.

:(

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?

:(

ok. yeah. that's something i remember

that feeling when you wake up to power tools outside fucking up everything, and check your phone, and it's not even 8 yet.

so woo woo dreamy half sleep.

and then panic attacks.  all day.  constant panic attacks making it nearly impossible to pull my brain together to do anything.  so that's fun.  shaky hands and trying heavy breaths to see if that calms things down but knowing it isn't going to.

at least my apartment is "clean."  not regular clean.  just not like there's vomit everywhere or shit like that.

i really hope i can keep myself together to keep it this way.

having a kind of clean apartment is weird.

like, i go to the bathroom, and it's not a disgusting mess.  i go to my bedroom, and there's like space to walk around and shit.  it's like being in someone else's house.

so today i got an email from my boss that was like, "what's up with this asshole?"  so i went to talk to him, and i told him, "oh yeah, he sent that email to me yesterday, but like i don't have time to drop everything i'm doing to magically solve all of his problems."

"i mean, duh, right?  who plans ahead so well that they're like 'i need this next week because reasons'?  that's clearly not a poop-it-out-in-a-day thing."

"plus, this is the same dick who was all 'tell me if i'm doing this right' last year, and when i asked 'like, tell me what you're doing?' he ignored me."

"ok, fine.  cc me on the email you send back, and be like, 'whatever, not going to happen, jerk-face'"

i mean, not really.  those aren't at all the words, but that was totally the vibe i got from it.  and seriously.  if you need something enough to put all sorts of "this is vital" and "URGENT!!!!!!!" in your email, maybe you need to plan more than like three days ahead.



i'm trying to do a post every day this week.  not really sure why, it just seems like the right thing to do.  hopefully this "clean apartment," "chatty kathy" feeling will stick around and i'll be able to respond to all my messages.

hrm. this isn't a good feeling either.

so i've been cleaning my apartment, because my landlord wants to do an inspection thing.  it's been like three years since the last one, but i guess "we need to do one." suddenly.  now.

which means i've learned that i have lots of trash, and under that trash is gross stuff.  ick.  i should clean up more.

but, because i took out a bunch of trash, and vacuumed a bit, and cleaned up some, my apartment isn't an oppressive mess.  which makes me feel better.  not good, right, just not as awful horrible as always.

and then today i got a lot of junk sorted out at work.  just boom boom boom done done done woo woo woo.  except when i looked at the clock, it was almost an hour past when i usually go home, and my brain kept telling me all sorts of other things i could do, and how cool it would be to do those things too.

so, i think when i go back to the brain doctor, i need to ask about manic episodes as well.  i guess it's good to see that my brain can come up with new ways to be crazy.

go me.

dear old dude at the checkout lane,

yeah, i saw how you tried to use your papa john's club card as your grocery club card.  that told me you eat shitty pizza made by that jack ass's company.  that told me a lot about you right there.

"you must like that tea.  is it any good?"  wow.  you're like sherlock fucking holmes here.  i'm buying six bottles of tea.  what made you think that i like it?  is it the six of them sitting there, all together, with me buying it?

and no, it's shitty tea.  that's why i buy it.  because if i'm going to drink something, and drink six of them, i'm going to get something that sucks.  because that's super smart.

"yeah" is what i said.  "meh.  i'm trying to drink tea now instead of vodka so i am less likely to wake up in a puddle of bloody vomit someday.  not that i'm super into not dying, just that if you wake up in a puddle of bloody vomit, you're probably going to have to clean it up, and that's going to suck.  so yeah.  i'm buying six bottles of tea now, because that seems healthier to me" is what i meant.

i thought we had some sort of rule that you're not allowed to talk to people in the checkout lane about what they're buying.  so that means if someone's buying a bunch of toilet paper, you don't say something like, "oh, planning on taking a shit today?"  or if someone's buying the stereotypical condoms and long vegetables, they can just look embarrassed quietly without any weird conversations.

i saw what you were buying guy.  there was nothing for that cheese to go with.  were you planning on working on your night cheese, old dude?

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.

i can't even

here's the reference, if you don't get it.

so like this past week i've had like ten people tell me how cool i am.

no.

stop that.

listen:  i almost deleted this and my tumblr, and my everything i could think of, on wednesday.  i was pretty sure i was going to figure out which kitchen knife was sharp enough, and end it.

which, yeah, ok.  that's fucked up, and i should go to therapy.

i know that.  if you've told your boss you need three days off to talk to therapists, let me know how that worked for you.  because i know i need therapy.  duh.  i'm suicidal pretty much all the time.

"but, sammy, we love you and your stories!"

stop it.  seriously.  you don't help when you say things like this.  i know it's dumb, and it sounds stupid to normal people.  i can't deal with positive feedback.  stop it.  my brain is kind of constantly pumping out goads to tell me that i should kill myself because i'm stupid and useless.

having people respond and be "i love you sammy!" makes me even more depressed, because i have to live in the world i actually live in, and my apartment is full of trash, and i think everyone is mocking me.

so

ok.

i have like nine messages i need to respond to with "please, no, sorry, i'm a fuckup.  sorry!"

can i ask this, instead?

if you want to be supportive, or like, "i like your shit.  it's not terrible shit.  decent enough shit, i guess".

tell me a fact about an animal.

i don't care what it is, or which animal.  like, i look at cat videos, or tiger videos, or alpaca videos, and i really calm down.  otter videos!

that fucker doesn't care that i kind of want to eat an asshole while it's shitting.  it just wants to eat yummy food and do what it thinks is right, and doesn't want to be a jerk about it.

that would be so easy.  fucking animals and their "sorry, didn't make civilization because even if it makes disease less likely, it's kind of a pain in the ass."


i'm really super sorry.  i wish i could put up a good position so people could enjoy me, but that doesn't work.  i'm not blaming you at all, so don't get worried about that.  i know this is me being a jerk about other people.  i'm bad at this.

sorry again.

i will try to respond to messages.  i'm just.  here.  there.  not being able to.  this.

<me.  gesturing at everything everywhere.>

this?

sorry.

(a lot.  sorry)

"Because only squares eat square pizza, and only fags eat dicks, so your both."

point 1) i've had square pizza, and although it's usually breadier than the triangle-arc style, i never felt weird about it.

point 2) i'm pretty sure girls eat dicks too, otherwise getting a blowjob would be some sort of magic that people wouldn't know about.  "did you know you could come if someone sucks on it?  how does that even happen."

point 3) your.  sigh.  even if this guy is like 12, he should know homophones.  please, everyone, make sure people know about homophones.

also have this, which i just don't even.

have i told this new story?

read this first.

i'm visiting my friend again, who's now on the west coast, so it's all new and exciting to visit a new place.  but hawaii to mainland flights are scheduled at "impossible o'clock," so i get in at like 5am.

since she's super smart and loves sleep, she sends her husband to pick me up.  but at some point, he needs something from the glove box.

i legitimately can't remember what it was.  phone charger?  maybe?

whatever it was, it doesn't matter, because sitting next to the car book thing is my knife.

again.

it's super dirty, and the one rubber "stabby grip" that was always loose is gone, but when you've known a knife like i have, you'd recognize it anywhere.

"Yeah, that's it," he says as he grabs whatever it was and then the box is closed and i'm sitting there half stunned fighting jetlag as we drive home.


i kind of want to send her a note and ask that she take my knife out and drop it in the ocean.  give it to the whales to sort out.  whales are smart, right?  they'll do the right thing.

updates on thingsn

1. did you know if you lazy press keys to make your browser autocorrect to "sammytriesagain", you might end up just pressing s enough times to spell ss, which is apparently a nazi thing.  oops.  please don't think i'm a nazi, google.
2. did you know if you stop drinking when you've been drinking to treat the crazy that kind of consumes your brain when it isn't doing other things, then your brain kind of just channels that crazy into horrible anxiety about everything?
1. so i maybe ignored your email if you sent me one, because i can't deal with conversations right now.
2. and if you posted comments that i read, didn't understand, and then panicked about, i also probably couldn't deal with that either, so i just ignored them instead of trying to respond to all the comments.
3. or if you follow my tumblr, you'll notice that it all kind of stopped about wednesday, because that was when my sanity broke a bit, and i woke up in the middle of a conversation with imaginary people.
3. speaking of imaginary people, i have a new random story to finish.  i had a dream thing, and then because alarms are made by the devil, my alarm went off before it could finish, leaving me in the purgatory that is the world outside of your dreams.  i've plastered over the main plot hole with pizza, because that's how i cope right now.
4. pizza is awesome.
1. so that's why i reblog pizza porn when i see it.
2. and why i follow a pizza porn blog.
3. and i keep wondering what the most efficient money/pizza frozen thing is.
1. those shitty totinos party pizzas that aren't enough for one person?
2. pizza rolls, which at least attack with flaming guts when you try to eat them.
3. french bread pizzas, which seem like they're trying to be fancier than they are
4. hot pockets?  they're kind of gross, but also kind of a calzone.
5. are the pizza bagels you buy as good as making them yourself?
1. note that my fridge is kind of a horrorshow of mold.  i need to gather enough sanity to clean it out, i think.
5. i will try to pull myself together this long weekend to respond and be social and pretend i'm human inside.  i hope everyone here understands that i'm not, and i have to struggle to do normal things.  i know i'm not that great of a writer, so i'm grateful for people for doing that understanding.
1. butt.
2. not butt.
3. really.  putting together a "what's wrong with me" thing is super painful.  i guess imagine having to tell someone you're sick, but like you have to stab your arm in five places so your boss knows your arm doesn't work.  or you keep coughing, but you have to have a lung removed and sent through a scanner for it to count.  that's how i feel most days.  like my brain is going to object to stupid shit just because it can.  at least at work now i just have to claim i'm sick and not prove things.  i'm "whatever the word is where it means you're not being oppressed by those who run the means of production for their own personal enrichment at the expense of all other concerns."  i want to say proletariat, but i don't work in a factory, so that seems wrong.  i am a bad communist.
4. like, that's probably not even communism bad.
5. sorry.
1. super sorry.
6. did you know getting automatic numbers is bad for things?
7. because you then come up with reasons to make more.
1. more is cool.
2. more is better.
3. people like things that come in threes.
4. you can avoid complicates mental health issues by diverting the topic along a tangential sub point.
1. like this one about puppies and how cute they are
5. and avoid the trouble you might expect from that divergence.
6. six.
7. seven.
8. ate.
9. nine.
10. but, really
1. there's a new shit story from a dream that's going up this weekend.
1. it's half written
2. it's not been done in my usual
1. notes
2. first copy
3. rewrite copy
4. reread for sanity
5. post
3. style.
4. it's the
1. write a copy.
2. make sure the copy isn't just the word "poop" a bunch of times.
5. version.
2. it's not really that bad, i could probably make it better if i could focus why my brain chose her and that topic and that location.
3. new thought?
1. i have two exhibition parts planned still.  
1. "illness" has been dragging out for four months or so.  
2. i know how it goes down because i have the notes sheet.
3. it still doesn't have any sex, but i really think it sorts out a lot of the social aspects of the story.
1. "office" is the next next, and i have it half planned right now
1. with the second half fake planned in my head.
4. i don't know how to finish this story, so it may just drag on forever.
1. it's not a "happily ever after, the end" thing
2. or a "you see how they fuck shit up, and it closes just before it all comes tumbling down."
3. how does macbeth...romeo and...caesar...
1. do they all end with everyone stabbed and dead?
2. fuck.
1. i'll need to write something new, then
1. i guess.
2. poop.
1. probably not poop.
11. ok.
1. i'm tired.
1. so it's sleep time.
2. good night.
3. sleep tight.
4. bedbugs are jerks.
1. stab them in their face.
2. bye.
12. blog.
1. a post.

i wish i knew how to have real human conversations.

instead of just freezing up and avoiding all the time.

it'd probably make me seem like less of a freak and more of a normal person.

oh well, time to avoid some more conversations and not go on a date.  yay!  go me!

i think i'm sick or getting sick

i've been shivery and either too cold or too hot all day.  my tummy is all grumpy, and i threw up lunch.

i think if i feel like this tomorrow morning, i'm just going to call in sick and go eat soup.  grumble.

i guess then i'd have time to sit down and actually write the next chapter instead of outlining a new one.  like i did for a bit this evening before i got distracted and stopped.

that moment

where you wake up (like really, or the similar youtbe thing)

and just shiver forever, because it's a cold weather thing i guess.

and then curse that shitty cold weather we had for more than a week.


some of us don't wear clothes to bed, the weather.  try not to  be such a dick, ok?

i am tired of crying

today i've been crying.  a lot.  for stupid reasons.

i saw a video with a puppy and a kitten being friends.

tears.

i looked up something on wikipedia and ended up reading about space missions to mars.

tears.

i tried to figure out if i could go to the arbys in the navy exchange in pearl harbor even though i'm not in the military, i just want the arbys that i can't get since they closed at ala moana.

tears.


these are stupid reasons for crying.  i don't want to read "the rover stopped working 904 days into the mission, 901 longer than expected" and then start bawling.  it's stupid and wasteful.  yes, i know i personify my computers more than i should.  i know i called my old phone, a "stupid useless old dried up cunt."  i know i called my new phone "sexy master ass-bot".  to be honest, though, my new phone is so super much better than that stupid useless old dried-up cunt.

but like, i didn't sleep with space rovers.  or a puppy and kitten.  or arbys.  i regret like two of those.

i think i'm just random sad in weird ways.   which totally sucks.

a bunch.

and here we go.  no tears now, not when it's for sammy.

you're such a jerk, brain.

new year, new post, same old crazy

hey.

i wonder if anyone else feels like they've just stepped onto a stage in some sort of bar or club or restaurant or someplace like that, but seriously i've never really been to a place with a stage, so i'm making things up. when they write a blog post.  ok.  so i fucked that joke up.  i'm off to a great start at this.

i have a bunch of things i want to say, and although i've been coping well this past week, it's always easier to wait until the weekend when i can drink and let myself be free to do so.  because that joke i fucked up.  right?  you get what i'm going with?

ok, thing 1:  i did more doctor stuffs, and the doctor sent me an email with the instructions "avoid alcohol, eat healthy, exercise more."  so, i'm lying here in bed, kind of drunk, and i have a sleeve of poptarts that i'm totally going to eat in a few minutes.  you're not the boss of me, doctor jerkface.

thing 2:  i need to go back to therapy.  this leads to point 3, so

point 3:  going on vacation for the holidays was super healthy.  ish.  things that were good: three year olds are kind of 50/50 jerks and super cute.  she punched me in the face, and was sent to the corner, prompting her to cry and scream.  she was told she had to apologize to me, and so she fell to the floor to cry and scream some more.  "do you want to watch your animal show?"  "yes."  ANIMAL SHOW TIME.  "i'm sorry i punched you."

and then your heart melts and you just want to give huggy squeezes to that tiny jerk.  it's this kind of moment that makes me regret my "maybe let's not have kids, ok?" plan.  not that i have partners for a kid plan anyway, but whatever.  little kids are cute when you don't have to clean up after them.

things that were less good:  "yeah, so if he doesn't shape up, i think i'm just going to divorce him.  she'll live with me, since i'm more capable than him.  i figure i'll just find a sex friend and that'll replace him."  not what i was expecting.  is he a kind of lazy unemployed dude?  yes.  does he not shower as much as i think people should shower?  yes, but he totally did that before they married too.  do i feel super weird when she's not there and it's just the two of us, and we have to try and pretend we're friends independently, when we both know we're not?  duh.  still, i don't htink them getting divorced is the best strategy (which is, obviously, him not being dumb and getting a job and being productive and shit).  "couldn't you be the sex friend, sammy?"  ew.  ick.  no.  she's like my sister, you creepo.  "sammy, you're totally on the elsanna ship, and they're sisters."  but not like my sister.

it's like i shoot ice into the hearts of everyone around me, and i'm afraid i'd do that to people i care about if we had a relationship.  does that make sense?

things that were unexpected: "so...yeah, i think i might see about going back to therapy.  i've kind of felt depressed recently."  "oh?  really?  you think?  which part of 'i'm a grumpy muffin about everything that doesn't involve puppies' tipped you off?"  i guess i put off depressed vibes in real life too.

"should we call your people now and set up an appointment for you?"  "uh...no...i'll do it when i get home."  "are you sure?  we could do it now, we're not doing anything else."  "yeah, it's ok."  "ok, but let me know when you've done it, so i can stop reminding you."  i'm...i'm really not used to having someone point out my mental issues, kindly assure me that they're on my side, and then try to get me to sign up with a therapist while they can watch and help.  this is weird to me.  i still haven't made the appointment, but she keeps reminding me, and isn't going to stop until i do it.

honestly, i've been so long without friends who are helpful and interested in helping me not be crazy, that having someone come out and do that is weird.  i wish i could fix my social anxiety enough to make this a common occurrence.


but really, who calls someone a "grumpy muffin"?  really.  that was what she called me.  "grumpy muffin."

thing 5:  you maybe didn't see it, but Key, or the collective known as Key, or the blog with stories you should totally be reading because it's great (if confusing, but still great) did an Eroticas Rehabilitas where she reads stories and fixes how things went wrong at the end.  for me, of the Exhibition stories.  the that me, that's the fiction me.  except not to fix things, because i'm trying really hard to make exhibition not the same lame "and then the cage was welded shut forevers.  FOREVERS!"

first, the erotica rehabilitas stories are brilliant, and if you're here, you should go read them.  unless you wrote them.  then, just, like....bask, i guess.

second, i forgot, but it was probably self deprecating.  i try not to be a jerk about things, which is why i'm so awesome, right?

stuff 5:  i really want to get the last known part written this weekend.  i think i have a clear gap of almost-sanity available to write it, and even though it's kind of zero sex, and the conflict is pretty lame, i want to get it done, and see what my brain comes up with to follow it.

yes, there's that story.

and that one, but you never fleshed it out.  "ON A FARM" isn't an outline, sammy.  that's three fucking words.  put some effort into it.


thanks for reading all this nonsense.  i'm going to try and see if 2015 can be a better year than 2014.  and i'm going to try to write more if i can.  i just want to be better than i feel i am.

hey.

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

"you're drunk right now."

You're drunk right now!

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

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

deep breath.

sorry for getting weird (again) (always).

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

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

sorry for that too.

sorry for being sorry all the time.

sorry that that is something i have to say.

here's the thing, ok?

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

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

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

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

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

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

i'm just so sorry for everyone.

sorry.

obligatory "going away" post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

:-/

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

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

buzzfeed violet

"Short, relatable videos that are totally you."


STOP READING MY BRAIN< JERKS!

tl;dr

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

Be the good girl you always have to be

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

like....all this shit, right?

i hate holidays.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

is that a thing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're drifting again, sammy"

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

so...

um...

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

sorry for everything.

sorry for not writing faster than i do.

sorry for being weird over email.

sorry for being weird in general.

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

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

i just hate everything so much.

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

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

why?

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

so i guess today is a bad day

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

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

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

jerk.

does anyone else?

just get drunk...

oh.

yeah.

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

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

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

or so i hope.

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

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

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


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

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

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

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


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


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

so.

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

uuuugugughghhhhh

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

:(

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

:)

yay! more impending depression!

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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


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


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

my local museum is cooler than your local museum.

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

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

ugh.

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

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

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

grumble.  now i remember why i started drinking.

i hate writing story teasers

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

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

:-/

The Exhibition: Food

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

read "food" first.

you know the drill by now

random days off are great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

again.

still.

three comics

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Exhibition: Glass

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

read "glass" first.

notes and things.

ok. what?

bedside luxury is almost three years old?

how is that even possible?

well. huh. shit.

so i had a doctor appointment today.

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

and medicine.  whatever.  doctors are bad vampires.

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

"no?"

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

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


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

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

so.

this sucks.

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


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

we all knew.  don't pretend, ok?

OMG!

they're all named after islands!

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

everyone except one, i think.

they're all islands.

fucking...

how did i not notice that until now?

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

my brain is grumpy today

just.  all the grumps.

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

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


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

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

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

i just want a good ugly cry. :(

no new story today

i got about a paragraph written after trying all day.

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

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

:(

hey, everybody!

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

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

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

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


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



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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

question:

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

do other people have to do that, though?

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

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

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

what else starts with i?

igloo.

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

we'll see.

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

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

The Exhibition: Hanging

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

again, read "Hanging" before reading this.

this is the notes and comments post.

blah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Exhibition: Exercise

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

don't read this until you read the story.

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

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

i had exhibition: e and g plotted out.

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

so now there's f and h planned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

huh. well that sucks.

so sirjeff of ponygirl fame is closing up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

things that aren't fun

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

i am bad at life.

:(

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

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

:(

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

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

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

blah.

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

so...

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

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

what's even more hard?

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

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

i super hate

trying to not be lame on online dating sites.

because i always fuck up and look super lame.

:(

forever, just :(

Fucking fuck.

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

broccoli is fucking disgusting.

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

like everything that's made with broccoli.

five years

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

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

but like

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

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

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


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


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

because gross.


sorry.  just had to be random for a bit.

hey there, the internet people!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

my plans?

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

yeah, that's not sexy, is it?

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

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

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

sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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