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.