Stupid Parents

I've been reading through comments on a parenting site regarding the "ridiculously high" expectations placed on kindergartners nowadays. The interesting thing is, every parent that complained that their kindergartner was under too much pressure at school made comments that were riddled with spelling and grammatical errors. The parents who believed that the expectations were fair and that sounded as if they spend a lot of time working with their child at home, they not only provided lots of helpful information about activities and websites that can improve a child's reading skills, they also had comments that were free of errors.

Coincidence? I think not.

Back to "How am I not myself?"

Yeah, I've talked about this before. I've had feelings that I am not myself. That I am playing the part in a movie that is not my life, sometimes that I'm watching someone that is not me playing a part in a movie that is not my life. But it is my life. And I like my life. It's frustrating and confusing.

I know I shouldn't be doing this. Self-diagnosing on the internet is always stupid. I keep googling mental symptoms in hopes that I can figure out what it is that's wrong with me. I have no idea what good labeling it will do, without seeing a doctor and possibly getting medication. I thought maybe I'd solve the mystery and feel some sort of...I don't know, this is stupid.

These are things I really don't like writing down. I hate seeing them and I hate that other people can see them, but I need that at the same time. It's either I tell my blog or I tell a doctor. Well, the blog is free...and not as intimidating.

So anyway, I googled my symptoms. Which are the following:

• Fatigue
• Cloudy/hazy/fuzzy thinking.
• Periods of time when I feel nothing at all, and that nothing at all matters. Everything is pointless.
• I lapse into vivid daydreams, yet can distinguish fantasy from reality. These daydreams sometimes feel so real that I am unaware of what is going on around me. I laugh or mouth words at times (but only when I am alone). Sometimes I shake myself out of it and I'm crying. This normally happens while alone in the car, sometimes while trying to fall asleep in bed. Times when I'm by myself with nothing for my brain to focus on.
• I often feel as if I'm not myself, like I'm watching a movie starring Jenny the Idiot. I feel removed from my own life.
• I often feel as if I'm waiting to wake up from a dream, all while I am awake and not dreaming or daydreaming.

I know I have depression, and I've been to a doctor before (albeit many years ago). It just seems like more than just that. Dr. Google also came up with depersonalization and maladaptive daydreaming. Do either of those really fit? It seems like it, but I'm the sort of person that googles "eye twitching" and convinces herself she has Parkinson's. If I dig deep enough, all of my symptoms eventually lead to cancer.

Did looking up all of this really help me? Hmm. It wasted a good hour of time at work. That's just fine.

I wonder if there is a term that describes obsessively trying to diagnose oneself with things via the internet.
Cyberchondria? Yeah, I need to stop now.

My Give-A-Shit...it has flatlined. :(

I feel blank today. Not anything. I want to feel something. I thought once I started typing, words and (hopefully) some sort of emotion would flow out, but nothing. I am faintly frustrated, but not enough. Not enough of anything. It's uncomfortable. But not uncomfortable enough. There's a pea under my mattress. I'm okay, I guess, but something feels a little wrong. And I'm tired. I finally have a day off from work, the first in over a week, and I can't enjoy it, really. I'm just sitting here blankly. I feel guilty that Lucy wants my attention and I can't muster any. I'm trapped inside this cotton ball head. I'm almost too tired to care.

A few hours later...

In a matter of hours, my mind has gone from an aloof and confused mush to angry, closed up and defensive. I don't know why. I know that this shouldn't be normal and probably isn't. I went to the store and felt paranoid that people were thinking terribly of me (which they may have been, my hair was a mess). I have a bottle of whiskey in my possession now, which gives me a little bit of peace. I'm hoping to get good and drunk and write some terrible poetry, feel like myself again.

One Thing

I wish I could find that One Thing that I am supremely good at. My talent that I could translate into a career. I look around and it seems like everyone my age knows what their One Thing is, have careers. I've worked at a hotel for seven years. This is that job people work while they are looking for something better. And I've been here for seven years, making a couple dollars over minimum wage. I don't really feel like an adult.

I wish my talent was writing, that's what I hear from family and friends. But maybe this is the only mildly good thing I can do and they are just trying to be nice. I come away from reading some great book or poetry, then read over what I have written...it's boring. It's juvenile. I wouldn't pay to read what I've written. It's honest enough, so I suppose that just goes to show how boring I actually am.

I'm at work right now. I love hate this job. I don't like to work because I feel like I could be doing something better with my time, but when I'm not working, I feel useless. I don't DO anything better with my time when I'm off work. I'll think, hey, I'll go for a walk, get the house cleaned, write something epic. But do you know what I do? Sleep past noon, then stare at a computer. At least when I'm working, I know I'm making money. Even though most of my work involves spending my down time on Facebook.

Spitnoodle, she turned 10 on Friday.

Really? A decade? Have I been writing in this thing for that long? I have been weirdly loyal to this blog, as it was my first. I used to have a decent amount of readers. I used to actually care about that. I get that I really don't have many now, aside than the occasional passerby clicking through to the next Blogger blog, if that. Which is why my posts have become more personal, more for myself. That and my posts meant "for everyone" are posted to Facebook, where I know people will see them. This is now just my odd private/public diary of intensely personal thoughts. That may make me a sort of exhibitionist.

That's really it, I don't have a whole hell of a lot to say tonight. I'm in an okay mood. Yeah, I'm alright. I actually should write more in this sort of mood and not wait until I'm wallowing in self pity and depression. It makes me seem as if that's all I am.

Also, I'm loving everything Steven Wilson / Porcupine Tree / Storm Corrosion. So I will end on this awesome song that will not exit my mind:

No good.

How can such a sunshiney day feel so gray? People are out and walking, kids are playing, whatever. I heard some sort of sports game going on down the road at the college. People are having fun all around me. It's a nice seventy-something degrees. I think I'd prefer a storm. I hate this numb, especially during nice weather. It feels like I'm wasting something. Like my life.

Food isn't doing it for me. I'm having a beer, I can hardly taste it. I tried reading and couldn't concentrate. I'd read a bit, then my mind would wander to what I should be doing, or the stupid things that I've said or done. I thought I'd watch a movie, but I just couldn't find anything other than horror movies that I'd want to watch. Scary movies need to be watched at night, not at three o'clock in the afternoon with the sun glaring off the screen.

I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm lost. I want to go back to bed, but that would feel like I've given up. Writing this feels like whining. What I don't understand is how can I feel so happy and euphoric sometimes? Doing some of the same things that I just can't get into today? What is different today? Sure, I've got a bit of a cold, but that shouldn't make a difference. I feel this way when I'm perfectly (physically) healthy...or as healthy as I get.

Writing is at least something I can focus on. That's more than I can say for anything else I've tried to do today. Even if it is self-absorbed bitching. It's nice to get it out. In a non-destructive way (as opposed to screaming and breaking dishes, which I unfortunately tried this morning).

There are times I feel like I am part of a collective consciousness and on the same channel as the rest of the world. I love that feeling. But then there are times like now, when I feel like I'm the only person in the world. Like I'm making everyone else up in my mind and dreaming it all.

Things that occur to me when I'm sick and not allowed to sleep.

My brain is foggy with cold/flu, so some or all of this may not make any sense. But I was reading (in the fashion that I normally do at work -- read a paragraph, take a phone call, forget and read same paragraph over, take another call and on and on), and suddenly something sparked in my mind, a sentence that I though I should write down. And now that I've opened my laptop, the sentence is turning into a paragraph, so I think I'm about to ramble. Sorry in advance.

The thing that's randomly tugging my thoughts away from a completely unrelated novel is the way that gender differences are portrayed on TV. It irritates me. Sometimes I watch sitcoms. Not all of the time, I prefer a book or movie or my computer normally, but sometimes I'm just tired. Most TV programming seems to be made for tired or ignorant minds. I may relate to the mommishness of the moms. Or the funny us-against-them situations where the dysfunction of one family pits them against the rest of the social accepted world.

But then I see the men, watching football and having poker night with the guys. If they play the role of Husband, then they are often dumbed-down to appear mentally inferior to their wives. The women, the Wife, is normally either staying home with the kids or having a career while balancing PTA meetings and cleaning and grocery trips (all minus the man). Yes, sometimes the man attempts to "help out," leading to some sort of hilarious bungling because he's just not cut out for "women's work."*

*Disclaimer: I know this does not describe every television couple. I know there may be shows that have more accurate portrayals of relationships. They just never seem to be on when it's my turn to have the remote.

Ugh. I see it and I get that maybe there are people like this out there. It must be incredibly dull to be these sort of people. Maybe that's why there are so many sitcoms made about them. Entertainment for people to relate to, people that are a little too dense to try, oh, maybe reading a book instead. But my point is, the separation of genders in these shows are, in my opinion, exaggerated. Maybe I'm weird. Well, I know I'm weird, what I meant was that maybe I'm the exception. But I hope not.

Yes, I am a woman. Yes, on two different occasions, I spent 9 long months not able to drink until little mini humans bust up out of me. And I like purses (I think more men would, too, if they got over the gender stereotype. I mean, holy hell, I don't have to try and squeeze my cell, keys, and wallet into my pockets...and I can carry a fucking umbrella -- hells yes). But I am not first and foremost a woman in my mind. I am Me, an individual, neurotic and strange, but wonderful. Not a girly girl, not a slut, not a tomboy, not a robot, not butch, not the career women, not the bra burning feminist (not to the extent I go pyro on my underwear, at least), not the girl next door, not scantily clad or overly made up, not a prude, not any of those things. I may be a very small degree of one or more of those things at any given time, but I have no clear label. And I don't think anyone should.

Okay, I suppose I don't relate well to many other people, as I seem to be always surrounded by women who are more clearly defined as feminine or masculine (while I am strangely neutral). But I think there are a lot of people like me out there, that are more neutral minded. Women and men. And I think that needs to be portrayed a little better on TV. For those times my mind is too tired for a book but still not ignorant enough for King of Queens.

SICK, NONONONONONOOOOOOO

OH HOLY FUCKING SHIT, I'M GETTING A COLD. I CAN'T THINK, I HAVE NOTHING TO FUCKING DRINK AND EVERYTHING IS FUCKING CAPS LOCK. BECAUSE THAT'S HOW IT FUCKING IS. DEAL WITH IT. EVERYTHING ACHES AND I AM A WHINY MOODY PATHETIC MESS. I WANT TO THROW GLASS AND RIP FACES OFF AND EAT RAMEN. BAH. FUCKBUG.

Another Stupid List...of the bucket-y sort.

I am at work, unsupervised and a little bored. What do I do when I am bored? Normally, I read, drink, or sleep. The first option is difficult to do for me when I am frequently interrupted by phone calls, and the last two are sadly out of the question, so I will make a stupid list. I am in an unusally happy, sober, bloggy type mood, so I will take full advantage of this odd bit of perkiness. Holy crap, I'd even go so far as to say I'm feeling chipper.

What the fuck am I going to list, though?

Bucket List?

hmm.

Bucket List!

***

1. Finish my bachelor's degree in whatever field I am planning to be happy in. Right now I'm still trying to convince myself that this field is Computer Science, but holy hell...calculus. I'm just no good at the math.

2. Visit another country. I've never done it. I've never even been to Mexico or Canada.

3. Fix my body image problems. Really, it's only my weight and teeth that bother me. I don't give a flying fuck what the rest of the world thinks of the way I look, but I'd like to be happy with myself when I look in the mirror. I'd also like to chew my food without fear of breaking more teeth.

4. Get a pug and name it Steve Martin. Get an orangey cat and name it Bill Murray.

5. Write a novel or book of poems or book of something. Something that preserves my me-ness in a form that generations can be disturbed by for years to come.

6. Learn German, or at least enough of it so that I can sing a handful of songs in it.

7. Learn to play the guitar I've had since my 16th birthday.

8. Crochet an entire, giant, crazy colored blanket.

9. Repay anyone who has ever lent or given me money, even if they have said not to worry about it or it was a gift. Starting with my parents and Charlie's. If I don't win the lottery, this one will take...quite a while.

10. I used to aspire to do great things. I think being a good mom, though, is a great thing in itself. So I would like to inspire people to do great things. Hopefully two of these people will be my children. I want to make changes for the good in this world, and inspire others to do the same. I know this is vague, but I'd like to go out knowing I made a contribution to the greater good rather than adding to the world's problems.

11. I want to make everyone I care about really understand how much they mean to me, and let them know that I love them. I try to do this now, on a regular basis. I can't handle the pain of finding out that it is too late to tell someone, "I love you," and the older I get, the more likely I am to run into that situation. I know this is not something I can just check off my list, as it is ongoing, but it seems more important than some bucket list items I've read. For example, bungee jumping or some such nonsense.

Magenta

12. Go to a showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show and dress up as Magenta (this preferably after I lose the extra weight, I don't want to be a fat Magenta).

13. While I'm on the topic of costumes, I would also like another chance at a Death costume (again, after I lose weight). Last time was a last minute very half-assed attempt. I can do better than that.

14. Write a children's book with Mandy. Or a pseudo-children's book full of funnies and vulgarity.

15. Be happy and stay that way. More or less.

***

Honestly, I can't think of anything else to add at the moment. I will probably get more ideas on my drive home from work. Or not.

Boring Me and Dreams

Where did my fun go? I realize that about the time I moved away from Washington, I became a far less entertaining person. Maybe it's the slower pace of life that's done it to me. Maybe it's my brain deciding to grow increasingly more neurotic. Or maybe it just comes with being a mom and in a constant state of exhaustion.

It's all that shit combined.

My dreams seem more important than my waking life sometimes. I get up in the morning, fresh from a mind drama, still feeling the after effects. It's akin to the feeling of leaving the theater after seeing an epic, life changing film. The quiet reflection. I can't speak to anyone for the first 10 minutes, I have to concentrate on how that just made me feel. Then I need to tell anyone who will listen all about it.

See what I did? I think I just completely switched topics there. And I don't even care. I guess my point is that on the outside I find myself boring, but the inside of my brain is fucking amazing. I live there, and when I'm sleeping, it feels like others live there with me. And it would be fucking magnificent to share a dream with other people. Actual people, not made up dream versions of other people.

I think I have this obsession with my dreams because it reminds me that I can actually feel things. My dreams evoke emotions that I lack when I'm awake (or at least sober). I'm human after all. It's comforting. I zombie through my grayscale life eagerly awaiting the hour when my head hits the pillow and I can wake up in color, like Dorothy in Oz.

50 little things that make me happy

1. the smell of sunblock
2. the sound of heeled shoes walking across a hard floor
3. popping bubble wrap
4. biting a goldfish cracker perfectly in half
5. coloring with a brand new crayon
6. amazon.com deliveries
7. remembering the name of an actor without having to look it up
8. singing along word for word alone in the car
9. free popcorn coupon when buying movie tickets with regal card
10. catching the clock at 11:11
11. getting 8 hours of sleep
12. catching the perfect, "that's what she said."
13. writing a poem
14. finishing a crossword puzzle
15. the sound of the river
16. star watching on a clear night
17. the moment the food arrives at a restaurant
18. when Lucy falls asleep an hour before her bedtime
19. rehydrating in the morning after a night of drinking
20. making lists
21. blowing a bubble, catching it on the wand, then using that bubble to blow another bubble
22. buying the perfect gift for someone weeks or months before their birthday or Christmas
23. sucking coffee through a Twix like a straw, then eating the melty coffee-soaked Twix
24. making the perfect scrambled eggs
25. driving past willow trees
26. whistling using a blade of grass
27. being the first one awake in the morning when no one has work or school to get ready for
28. getting into the car after work
29. singing the guitar solo
30. finding money (paper, not coin)
31. robot dancing
32. being alone in a swimming pool
33. facebook comment getting more likes than original post
34. heavy black rotary telephones
35. foot rub
36. tangerine colored cars
37. the sound of popping incandescent light bulbs when I don't have to clean it up
38. taking my shoes off after i've been on my feet all day
39. a cold beer after a job well done
40. starting a new book
41. saying something strange at the same time as someone else
42. zoning out to music over headphones
43. waking up at 5:30 in the morning long enough to remember it's my day off and I can fall back asleep
44. the first snow of winter
45. jacket weather
46. successfully hanging a spoon on my nose in front of witnesses
47. the word "pouch"
48. saying something abnormally honest while drunk
49. inside jokes
50. retracing a rambling conversation backwards to figure out what I was trying to talk about in the first place

How am I not myself?

Wow. I don't feel like me. I feel like a distracted potential. I can be more ME if I just (fill in the blank). How can I not be me?

This is worrying me stupid. It doesn't feel like a valid question, especially when I have other things, expected things, that I need to be doing rather than figuring out how I feel. I have a family to take care of, a new house to try and unpack. Stuff, man. Real stuff. The more of this "real" stuff, expected stuff, that I do, the less I feel like me. I am becoming what is expected of me. I've been Me before, and I felt right. All the right things are happening, I should feel right. Why don't I feel right?

I am going to have a drink, stand out on the deck and look at the stars...

Hardly any stars, but there was some heat lightning. I can't feel anything but confusion, annoyance, and that I'm not doing something that I should be doing. I'm uneasy and restless. I want to feel something else. I'm in a pretty house with a pretty yard across from an awesome river with plenty of trees around. This is what I want. Why can't I feel anything??? I keep myself busy, but when I have some down time, I feel like I'm grasping for some elusive emotion that I can never find. I don't even know what.

(an hour passes)

I just unpacked and set up Charlie's computer and cut my foot on some random broken glass on the kitchen floor. His computer is set up, so I know he'll be happy. But I couldn't care less. I'm such a shit.

Going to bed. Disgruntled. Pretty sure I need medication and I'm not happy about it.

Serious Things and Stuff

Alright, so today I feel a bit less desperate and depressed. I'm sick with a nasty but run-of-the-mill common cold, so that may have lent a little to my being so down in the shitter last night. I didn't do much packing or cleaning today, I had planned to do both, but FUNK DAT. I'm recovering, bitches.

My family is about to move. I'm anxious and excited half of the time, then I find myself uneasy and worried. It's about half the size of the townhouse we're in now. Which is fine, we've gotten rid of a shit load of stuff we don't need. It's not an issue of where our stuff will go. It's going to be the four of us crammed into a smaller area, getting into each other's faces. What I'm hoping is that the kids will want to play outside more. The yard and decks on this house are fucking amazing.

I'm taking more time off from school, too, and I worry that my family will assume I've given up. This time it will be a year, only because what with all the house hunting related whatnot, I stupidly missed that the college needed some extra paperwork for my financial aid. I thought I had everything done, FAFSA was completed and all, but, whatever. The deadline has passed. Maybe this extra time is something I need, though. I'll be unpacking and getting used to a new house, getting used to BOTH kids being in school this year (finally), and hopefully I can find a new job. I'll pick back up with school and I will slay it into the mother fucking ground, dammit. I will have my Bachelors. Someday.

I've gotten the notion into my head again that it might not be too late for me to be a writer. I mean, writing is the thing in this life that I enjoy most. Why can't I do that for a living? Maybe I'm no good at it. I've thought about that. I really haven't gotten feedback from anyone who isn't friends or family, and they will say it's good even if it's shit. Because they love me. Or they're afraid of hurting my feelings. And I totally get that, I have a hard time critiquing anything done by someone I care about. But also, I'm a bit conflicted about trying to "sell" my writing. I write because I can't not. It's like pooping. I ingest so much stimuli during the day and need to excrete it periodically in the form of words. If I don't write, it is a form of constipation. But really, who would pay to see this shit? Pun Fucking Intended.

Less than fuzzy feelings

I don't know what. Really, I'm sitting here feeling things and not feeling anything. I am down. I am really fucking down. I'm going through motions, but I don't have anyone to talk to about it that will really hear me and care. Everyone has their own shit going on, I understand that, so I write it down to feel some temporary relief. Things are happening that should make me happy, but instead I can't feel anything but confusion and indifference. The only things I do that hold any meaning for me is reading and writing. And maybe music and movies...by myself. I just can't force myself to enjoy doing things. I turn all of my limited energy inwards. I try to keep myself moving along, doing the things I'm supposed to be doing, trying to feel busy and efficient. It's like being on a treadmill. I put in some effort, but I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere.

Several times today, I've felt as if I was the only person alive. As if everyone I see are ghosts, figments, flat characters. They talk, they interact, but there is nothing said with meaning. I can agree with them, talk to them, but it's almost as if I'm talking to myself. I feel like life is a dream sometimes, like I'm going to wake up anytime and say, "None of that shit made any sense."

Great Plans

I just woke up from a nap, disoriented as hell and I can't remember what I dreamed about. But it put me in a mood. I had Great Plans to drink and come up with some witty and/or angst-filled poetry. OR! Or I could watch a movie. One that has great meaning and will leave me feeling either fulfilled or disturbed (either way, it would be worth it). Tonight was going to be one of the great alone nights. One of those heart-wrenching or life-shaking or even eye-opening but definitely alcohol-induced nights for me and me alone. But then I napped.

Why did I nap? I wasn't even really that tired. The hope fell away and now I'm trying. I'm really trying to get it back. See? I've got the first drink washed down, which is why my fingers even started to type this nonsense.

Tonight held the promise of being extraordinary, but the ordinary ho hum broke in while I was sleeping. Oh, that mother fucker. This calls for another drink. Everything calls for another drink. The end of the last drink calls for another drink. Oh, to be able to quit my job and spend the rest of my life on drunken adventures and sleeping in. How much poetry do you think would be written? Well, I'll tell you. Lots. I think I am feeling my Great Plans for tonight returning.

Something New. Soon.

If I don't do something worthwhile, create something NEW, soon, my soul will atrophy and die. I will be doomed to shuffle around bored, always in awe of what has been done by others, but never be a source of something fresh and amazing. I don't want to be another this or that. Same shit, different person. No. I want to be the proud owner of an Idea, of something that is purely Me but vibrates through the being of Everyone. I hope this random capitalization of words is lending emphasis to what I'm trying to convey as muy importante instead of making me seem an illiterate douche.

On another note, this is the second time I've used the word "atrophy" today in a sentence. Not that I'm keeping track. Okay, I am.

Recycled Dreams

I had a vivid dream last night. Most of it has faded, but I seem to have recycled the setting and characters. I don't really know if this is a recurring dream since I don't remember exactly what the other dreams were about, but here's the one from last night (or as much as I can recall after waiting four hours to write it down).

:: Jenny's Dream Sequence ::

There was a mountain without trees. A few dirt roads crisscrossing the side, dotted with old trailers, junk cars and clothes lines full of sheets in the yards. The homes were distantly spaced, with large grass and dirt fields between them. The area was populated by the elderly, save for one guy who was maybe in his 20's. He rode around on a dirt bike. I've had dreams in this setting before, with the same character, but his appearance is always changing to match that of someone I've seen in a movie or in life. In this dream, he had the appearance of the actor that played Tomas in the movie I Am Dina, which I just watched last week.

The people that lived here were being blocked from the rest of society. I was trying to get to the residents there, because I apparently had some sort of connection with them, but there were blockades at the base of the mountain and armed guards. The male younger character made it out and together we tried to evade the guards and save the elderly people of the mountain.

This is all I remember.

:: End of dream sequence ::

10 things that are wrong with me:

1. I'm too concerned with what others are thinking. I can't read minds, dammit.
2. I obsess over things that I have no control over. Worry worry worry.
3. I can't control myself. When I want something, I indulge.
4. Weight. I feel like someone awkwardly wearing a fat suit. Not right in my own skin.
5. Teeth. Not wanting to stay in one piece. Crooked as hell. Overbite.
6. Conflicting views about the way the world works. Trying hard to be rational. Horribly sentimental. I try to give deeper meaning to things that are probably trivial.
7. Drink too fucking much. Drunk right now. Always need a vice.
8. Prone to depression. No will, no energy, just shit.
9. Lazy and messy. Procrastinator.
10. I make stupid lists.

Two Movies and My Sober Opinions.

I haven't been drinking. The past many times I've blogged, I haven't been sober, so this feels strange. I watched two movies tonight and now it's 3:30am and I am not tired. I'm not anything. Possibly a little down. Maybe it was the movies?

I finally decided to watch Human Centipede. I had this feeling I wouldn't like it, and it had been sitting un-watched in my Netflix queue for over a year. I have no problem with horror and disturbing movies, I love them actually. I think I was hoping for more with this movie but somehow knew I wasn't going to get it. But a girl can hope. Anyhow, Charlie was working night shift so I decided to get it over with, because I had to watch it. Much like with a train wreck, I couldn't help myself. I was curious.

It was terrible. I couldn't stand any of the characters. I couldn't root for the victims because they were terribly irritating and dull. I couldn't side with the crazy doctor because his character lacked any hint of depth. He was weird, yeah. Had the creepy look down alright, but beyond that he was nothing. I couldn't even laugh at this movie, it wasn't even, "so bad it was good." If they couldn't have made it more disturbing, the least they could have done was make it corny or funny. This movie offered nothing, I wasn't shocked or disturbed in the least. I was bored as fuck.

Next movie, I Am Dina. Great movie, albeit a bit depressing. I love the main character, though. Dina. Crazy and wild and broken. Strong and vulnerable. This character was all depth. Of course, it had Christopher Eccleston in it as well, and I am a rabid fan of his, so that could only help it. For some reason, any time I see him even almost smile, my eyes water a little. Le sigh.

A dark patch on a rainy day.

Today, I am void of emotion. I have no energy, no will to do anything. I don't want to be awake. I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to be. I don't want to...not be. I don't know. Everything feels wrong today. It's like a dream, where I'm standing in a fog and feeling uneasy, not knowing if it's supposed to be a nightmare. Maybe a drink will help me feel something, jump start my soul. I feel like a shell, a husk. A...husky husk. Oh, that was mildly funny.

Nothing I write feels sincere enough. This is the way I am today, in the words that I know, but the words that accurately describe my mind today have not been invented. I will read this tomorrow and it will seem like a lie. Like a melodramatic whine. I write these things down because I want to let myself know how bad it can feel. Because when I'm feeling good, I can't remember what bad feels like. When I actually have the energy and will to do something about it, I block it out and my mind pretends that everything's fine. Reading these words once I bounce out of a dark patch, they don't describe it well enough. I'll think, I couldn't have been feeling THAT down, I was just being silly.