my father is tired. all of the time.
i am deathly afraid that one day he is going to fall asleep and he wont wake up again. he sleeps so much now that it’s like he’s practicing.

i hate my mother more everyday. it multiplies like cancer cells that i never want to get rid of.

i tend to think that some of our crazy shithouse patients aren’t necessarily the most disturbing of all of the patients that we have. i also think that, as opposed to other doctor’s offices, we have a much different relationship with our patients, especially since we see them so routinely. we know a lot more about their lives, they might know a lot more about ours, and we may be a little less formal in our approach to them, instead of having to look down on a clipboard to have to spell or even remember what their name is.

patients also do us favors. probably because at whatever point in their treatment, we will be treating them for free because either their insurance company from whatever accident they were in doesn’t want to pay us anymore and we are waiting to litigate the balance (which we will not see all of) or because their insurance company doesn’t reimburse us for anywhere near what it costs for us to treat them, and so they might be nice to us every once in a while.

and, i guess, since we have patients who have been there forever, they think that they kind of run things. that they are in charge. that they are buddy buddy and can say whatever they want to us.

but…i don’t know when it is ever okay to say to someone that isn’t actually your friend, “you are a slut. you little slut.” and, yes, i know it is mostly because he is currently imagining himself with my office manager (and friend) naked and fucking in his brand new bed (breaking it in) and is therefor getting more into it by bringing the dirty talk into real life 3D with technicolor to get her reaction so he can figure it into his fantasy, but…seriously. would you walk into your doctor’s office, on a day that it is closed because you are helping another one of us out with a computer problem, and call a girl who is always nice to you a slut? would you walk into any office anywhere and call someone a slut?

what the fuck is wrong with people?

and my manager just laughed it off, because she knows as well as i know that he really didn’t mean anything bad by it, that he was really just trying to get his jollies or whatever…but the fucking nerve of some people!!! and he makes comments like this all of the time and..seriously? you dont talk to people or treat them that way. at least have some respect for us because we’re females and you are a nice guy who doesnt want to be an asshole.

some days…i just cant take it.

i can’t take that there are people who think that they can say or do whatever they want. i cant stand how i would have so rather been at the beach today than anywhere else, but wound up working, then sleeping, and that’s about it.

i don’t know why it happens. i really dont. people ask me what’s wrong, or if there is anything going on that is upsetting me, and i dont know what to tell them. i don’t know how to explain that it really isnt just one thing, that it’s everything, and that no…nothing has really changed, but that is exactly part of the problem.

i don’t know how to tell people that i dont see it coming. becuase it isn’t a monster looming in the darkness. it is a monster that is as bright and wonderful as sunlight…so it chameleons itself and swallows me at the most unsuspecting of times. a monster as bright as sunlight that clamps its mouth around me and refuses to let me out. i just have to play the waiting game.

in the morning, i dont want to get out of bed. during the day i get dizzy and feel light in the head and i worry about everything. it’s crazy. the thoughts that scream through my mind so loud that i can’t think and i can’t see and i can’t concentrate and i want to scream just as loud so i can find that equilibrium that will make everything clear and alright.

but i don’t. i stare and i yawn and i smile, because everyone wants me to smile. everyeone wants me to be the me that they are used to. and i oblige, because that’s what i do.

is it true? did it go that far? it is one hundred percent true and written from my point of view and yes, it did go that far. and you don’t even know how far it went yet, because i sure as hell know that he isnt far enough into it to know that i swallowed a bottle of pills and that there is a darkness that blossoms inside of me so beautifully perfect it’s like fresh ink for a rorshack that i will only lie about when asked what it is that i see. i was fresh and clean and white as a piece of paper and the ink spilled from my center, dripping out of my eyes and ears and mouth and…i’m a bit of a mess right now.

a bit of a mess.

but that’s alright. things run their course.

i keep saying that i am frustrated with being simply content, that there is nothing worse than complacency in a world where people are always more than satisfied by it.

and so, today i was thinking, that i shouldnt worried about being satisfied by complacency, because i am utterly dissatisfied with my life. and not just one or two parts of it. all of it. i feel like there are things missing or wrong with every aspect of my life…my love life, my work life, my career life, all sorts of my lifey life. and, some are defintiely worse off than others, because the things that i am dissatisfied with in my love life are things like, i can’t afford to move in with jon and do it independently instead of having him pay for everything for me, which is not how i want it to be. i want our relationship to be able to progress instead of only seeing each other on the weekends. i feel like we cant grow if we never fucking see each other. and that’s really my only complaint so far as that aspect goes.

other complaints…

i work my butt off. i really do. i know that i can completely look like i am doing nothing and putting off doing this or that, but i really work my ass off. and i know that i barely have anything to show for it. i have a good job, and i work with great people…but it isnt going to take me anywhere. it is going to leave me being basically a doctor’s personal assistant for pay that is nowhere near good enough for the amount of shit that i do and no health benefits.

i have no idea how i’m supposed to find time in the day to write. i have ideas bursting out of my head and no time to do anything with them.

i cant even think about this bullshit anymore.

just yeah…utterly dissatisfied.

i’m going to be entering the wonderful literary world of twenty dollar reading fees in the hopes that a groupd of people will have the taste for what i serve and therefore want to give me an amount of money exponentially higher than the twenty dollar reading fee.
in other words, i found a great database of writing contests and such and i’m going to start entering.
i feel like i am more than good enough. is that conceited? i personally prefer the word confident…because what is the use in entering a contest if you dont, somewhere deep down, believe that you have the chance to win. or at least walk away with something from the whole experience. but…i was reading about this one contest where the first prize is a bit more than three thousand dollars, and i said, “i am so good enough to win three grand.”
and i really feel that way about my writing, at least, i really feel that way about select pieces of my writing.
maybe i’m crazy and maybe i’m wasting my money…but…i feel like there is something that i have to offer the world. that someone is going to read my piece and be like, “woah…this is effing awesome!!”
on the ride home from jon’s last night, i hade at least three seperate revelatory moments regarding different story ideas, which is such a happy and welcome occurrence. and they were such eureka slash duh moments that i wanted to jump for joy and smack myself in the forehead at the same time.
thank goodness for seatbelts.
and i feel like these contests and general submissions will help to give me some focus…a goal.
one day i will be paid to write.

oh the hilarity of everyday life.

so…it seems that there are a lot of people who like to read my blog when i’m talking about sucking cock. suprise suprise.
on a side, but also completely related, note, i sucked some dick last night and it was goooooooooood…right to the ooey gooey center which i happily slurped down….because certain people might be right when they say that i know about the goopey parts
the only downside of the fantastic blowjob i gave, which involved not only my mouth and tongue but both hands, was that it got me so going and there was nothing that we could do about it.
lie, there was something that we could do about it, obviously, i just didn’t particularly feel like walking around funny all day long!!!!

i look in the mirror and i don’t know who i am anymore. bubbling beneath the surface and in a special glint in the corner of my eye i am this stranger.

i tend to be ragingly emerald with envy on a daily basis. envious of what? of mostly everything. it looks so easy for everyone else in the entire effing world, and if it isn’t easy for them they are blissful in their own complacency which, to me, is basically the same thing, because they aren’t struggling.

maybe i just am not trying hard enough. i am sure that there are things that i could try. i could sell out. selling out is easy. but, while i previously complained about wanting it to be easy, i don’t care whether it’s easy or not, i just want to know the steps how to get where i want to be. i think, if you read that sentence enough times, it will begin to make sense. either that, or it will break down into such nonsensicalness that you will begin to doubt your own sanity, as i have my own for so many years now.

welcome to my evil plan.

but, actually, i just want to be a successful writer. i go through google everyday looking for places to submit to or wondering how i can possibly make money freelancing. i am about to start tagging my blog with things that i know people will search for because they are either perverts, shallow, ignorant, or unaware of things that matter, just so i can get people to stumble across my page. because, if there are enough people stumbling, i’m sure that at least a small percentage of that number will start reading.

i don’t even know if there is anything that i write about on this blog that is worth reading.

at one point in my life, i found myself completely fascinating, as i tend to find other people completely fascinating. but, i’m not that sure aymore. what is there that i have to offer the world? what am i experiencing that people will want to find out about? nothing. i am experiencing the day to day because i don’t know how to escape from the day to day.

and it isn’t even a highly interesting struggle.

maybe it would be more interesting if i felt more at liberty to talk about the things that are plaguing me.

in fact, i’m sure it would be a lot more interesting, but there are thoughts running around up there that would get me in trouble, and i know that there are certain people who read this who i would not want to know what is going on up there. personally, i dont want to know half of what is going on up there.

too bad i cannot censor me from myself as much as i censor myself on behalf of the rest of the world.

be thankful.

maybe this is a sign. maybe i should be starting a new blog under a new name and have no one know who i am, so that i wouldn’t have to censor myself, so i could be the highly interesting person that i am afraid of letting the people closest to me see. i feel like people get so used to the person that i present to myself, who is complete with soft edges, big bright wide eyes, a smile, and a head cocked to one side that when i do something out of the ordinary they are weirded out.

fran was saying the same thing actually, in regards to her family, and i know the feeling exactly in respect to mostly the entire world. mostly, not exactly all, i’m sure.

my insides are hurting. stupid insides.

i really find it astounding that 60 years ago we put a man on the moon. i really find it astounding that we haven’t been back since. i feel like there’s this whole, been there, done that attitude going on.

my daddy is really into the space thing. and i wish i could refer to it as more than just ‘the space thing’ but i really dont know what else to call it. but, i know that it is a love of his, and when he talks about it he is so excited, and he remembers everything so perfectly. he literally gets that faraway look in his eye because he is looking at something other than what is in front of his face. and it’s magnificent.

i wish i could remember every word that my daddy says to me, because i feel like it deserves to be remembered. i try to get my daddy to write a book, because there is so much inside of him that he could share with the world, like he has shared with me, but he says, “what do i have to write a book about?”when i ask him the same question back accompanied with,

“and i’ve written two so far” he says,

“that’s different, you’ve had experiences.” which, yes, i have had experiences, but so has my daddy. he has worked with the government, and the military, and he was so into so many things in high school, and he worked at the kennedy space center, and he saw apollo’s launch, and he’s a pilot, and he knows everything!!!! and if he doesnt know something he goes and he learns about it. he tells me these fantastic stories about when he was a kid, and about his mother and father, and i feel like there isnt a day in his life that doesnt deserve to be written about.

that’s why i wish that i could remember every single word that my father says to me, because i would love to write a book about my dad if he wont write one about himself.

my daddy has a facebook now. i was so excited!!!!

i really have to figure out a way to get all of these thoughts out of my head. dr. paul kept asking me what was wrong today, and that means that it’s obvious that something is wrong.

i really would like to be able to say what’s wrong, but there is something wrong with me. that wrong thing being that i would rather not gripe about everything that is wrong with me.

did that make sense?

my brain is filled. apparently fucking is only a temporary solution to the thinking problem. I mean, this weekend i was in a blissfully wonderful ecstacy state of non-thought while my brains were being fucked out of my head. which, yeah, is probably why all the thougts stayed at bay.

i’m tired. i suffer under no delusions that i will be able to fall asleep. i haven’t been able to go out and get any more benadryl to help me get to sleep at night, and there is nothing else in my house that can pass for it.

i wish i had something of more consequence to say.

i wanted to go to the beach today, but it didn’t happen. maybe next weekend. i try and make it to the beach at least once a summer, which is a rather pathetic goal, admittedly, but it’s actually hard. i feel like so many other people my age are somehow able to get to the beach whenever they want, or to the mall or to the movies, and if i want to do any of those extraneous fun things then i have to plan it out. which kind of almost defeats the purpose.

i have all of these thoughts in my head trying to break free.

i’ve been sort of hopelessly depressed lately, but have been able to hide it from the whole entire world. it’s exhausting in and of itself, and then i have to live a life on top of it, and get through the motions of the day. it’s these thoughts bogging down my mind, and the real life in 3D that’s going on around me, and i frankly don’t want to have to deal with any of it.

everyday i don’t want to get out of bed, but i have obligations that mean that i have to get out of bed and get through the day and put a smile on my face. it’s hard.

im tired. i dont want to get into any of this.

even in the utter exhaustion of being having about five hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, my mind will not be quiet, and it, if anything, is even more scatterbrained and skittish than usual. i don’t want to deal with any of it.

the lollipop obsession continues. the having something to suck on continues. and there is no end in sight. maybe because during the week, lollipops are a poor, sad and pathetic substitute for having a dick shoved down my throat until i gag. because i like to gag. and i am not yet to the point where i will be gagging myself with a lollipop. yet.

i took a bath again tonight. after i cooked dinner, and picked up my dad, i took a nice and long hot bubble bath until my fingers were pruny and my skin was red from the heat. my skin smells like honey because of the lotion that i’m wearing and, like i’ve said before, my bubblebath made me feel a little bit like i sparkle. not as sparkly as other bubble baths…but i’m tired and the lighting is a bit bad, i suppose.

i am in love with how i look in pigtails. i’ve been doing pigtail braids in the afternoons because i have no air conditioning in my car so i drive with all of the windows open on the highway, and that is not friendly to very many do’s. so i put in some pigtail braids because they hang down nicely, and my side bang is a little punky on both sides so it’s a little naturally messy and i look effing adorable. couple that with a lollipop and i might be downright lethal (if i wasn’t in work clothes, of course).

i felt great in my hogwarts witch outfit last night. i looked hot and was on such an adrenaline high, and too bad jon wasn’t around for me to jump his bones because it would have been awesome!!!! he could hike up my skirt and…teehee.

i think i might be oversharing, that means that it’s time to watch spongebob and finally blissfully fall asleep.

so…normally in the mornings while i’m driving to work, i don’t listen to the radio because i have an adapter for my ipod and i would rather listen to music that i can sing too. however, yesterday, i stopped at starbucks in the morning before work, and unplugged my ipod because i dont trust the illegal aliens who line the side of the road hoping for a truck to stop and hire them for a days work. when i got back into my car, i figured that as i was only about a two minute drive from my office that i would just turn on the radio.

oh how glad i am that i did.

i turned it onto WBLI because i like their morning show, though everyone at work looks at me like i have two heads when i say this. but, anyway, as i was listening the DJ Dana was reading an email that someone sent her that went along the lines of, “my boyfriend of three years, in an attempt to spice up our bedroom life, made a request of me. and he requested that while we are banging i somehow wear a picture from a magazine over my face. he made a few really good arguments, and i just want you to ask your listeners if you think that i should be offended.”

and….you’re kidding me, right?

no…i may be utterly fantastic by every definition of the word, but even I cannot make this shit up. It exists in real life 3D and that is the scariest part. i feel like…i feel like this lady has multiple problems that require professional help a) she somehow thinks that this guy that she has been with for three years loves her and is not just keeping her around in lieu of a microwaved bagel with butter while he’s shopping around for someone else to do b) she thinks that this man made something that passes for a rational and good argument for why she should consent to this activity that in most lands would be called debasement, and c) she is somehow unable to figure out whether or not she should be offended all on her own because she has become so emotionally detached, probably thanks to the fine male specimen that she is with, and needs to ask a bunch of strangers their opinions. that’s three counts of professional help.

now…as scary as it might be, i can imagine an argument or two that could seem like they make a little bit of sense…one being among the role playing kind, the other being around the insanity defense.but mainly, i would think that it would be easier than pie to be offended because he is basically telling her that he wants to be able to visualize, with the help of a visual aid, that he is banging some other chick, because the one he has right now just doesnt really do it for him anymore.

jeez…he should just fuck her in the ass like every other guy looking for something new and spicy, get over himself, or dumb the dumb chick for being dumb already. because i so do not believe that it is entirely his fault. sure, he comes across as an asshole, but that’s probably because he’s been enabled his entire life by dummies like this one.

actually…i dont know what im complaining about…they sort of seem to be made for each other and kudos to them for taking the other one off of the market for the rest of us.

im thinking about getting my nipples repierced. actually, that’s a lie. i’m completely getting them re-done, i just am going to wait until september to do it, though it’s going to be on my mind until i do it.
im excited. there is something about a new piercing that is exciting. the anticipation. knowing that it’s going to hurt, but that it’s going to feel oh so good at the same time. and…i feel like nipple piercings are like a special little secret that i know about and that others can only really ever wonder about unless i tell them or let them sneak a peek.

i have to go and finish getting ready for the midnight showing of harry potter and the half blood prince.