To withdraw or not to withdraw...

As some of you might have noticed (by some I mean everyone who is friends with me on Facebook...which equates to one, maybe two of you), I have stopped typing up elaborate comments on various articles. Not that any of you really care (or have even noticed).
I've been trying to keep my mouth shut and fingers from the keyboard as much as possible. Sure, sometimes I'll still like a(n) comment/article, maybe I'll type a short sentence, or write something if it's someone's birthday. It's not like I want to come off as a complete douche (not that anyone would really notice that either).
So, why would I go from typing up comments and trying to entertain my friends to not wanting to type up anything at all (on Facebook at least...I hardly use Twitter, and special rules apply to this blog...you're all here at your own risk)?
To put it simply: I've become disgusted with myself. Yeah, yeah...I know what some of you are thinking. "How is this different from how you usually feel about yourself? Is this supposed to be news?" Well, no, this wasn't meant to be some kind of revelation. It's a bit weird to explain, but my self-loathing just managed to reach a new depth, that's all. I guess I just got beyond disgusted by my own comments that were becoming increasingly depressing...to me. And if I, as someone who is always already mildly depressed, manage to make myself even more depressed, then how are the people on my friends list going to feel? Granted, I've been known to say that I would rather have everyone hate me, but if you don't already hate me, then, I'm sorry to say, I don't have the energy to go out of my way to make you hate me. I need that energy to keep myself from curling up in the fetal position and sobbing hysterically every five seconds. Just kidding...maybe...not really. (Okay, it's not that bad...today at least.)
Anyways, I just didn't like what I was typing up anymore. Besides, hardly anyone was reading them (I don't know this for sure, but let's just say it's an educated guess), and even if someone was, what is he/she gonna say? "OMG, you need to talk to a professional about this" or "You should end your life ASAP"? Even if someone wanted to help, he/she couldn't.
And no, none of you needs to be concerned about me. If nothing has happened to me in the past 28 years, nothing will happen now either. I still have to finish working on my MA and then pay off my student loans... Oh, and there's always my precious ball of fluff (no, not that "fluff")...that is currently living with my parents and the rest of the Fluff Brigade. *sad*
I guess things could be worse: It could still be Monday. For some reason (depression, obviously), I could not stop myself from crying. Writing about my feelings *sob*, talking to one of the Japanese teachers *sob*, watching American Dad *sob* (that last one isn't true, but I did cry a looooot). Actually, Sunday and Tuesday weren't that pleasant either, but Monday was bad.
Maybe reading all of those articles and processing them in my comments wasn't the wisest choice... Especially since many of them just made me feel like a complete failure, which I am, but I shouldn't necessarily be subjecting myself to constant confirmations of said fact from outside sources. I'm also guessing that another contributing factor was the last phone call with my parents (which took place on Sunday...last Sunday). Even though I'm usually slightly less depressed, if not neutral, after talking to my parents, somehow this last conversation just completely irked me. I don't need rainbows blown up my ass every single time I talk to them, or anyone else for that matter, but something was...off. More than likely, I was already so depressed at that point that everything my parents said just sounded more negative and critical. I guess I'll find out when I talk to them later (it's already Sunday for me).
Of course, I'm still not completely out of the woods yet. There are several other factors contributing to my current blue mood, so it probably won't go away for a while. I won't mention all of them because that would probably be enough to fill a whole series of books (or provide enough material for ten Woody Allen films). Maybe I'll talk about what else is on my mind in future posts, but for now this incoherent, sad little update will have to do.
Will I return to typing up lengthy comments on Facebook? I don't know. I probably shouldn't. Most of my friends seem to be too busy enjoying life (or Candy Crush) to be bothered with my rants, so I might be better off saving my thoughts for here.
Oh well...since it's way past my bedtime and I still haven't been able to organize my thoughts properly, I should stop here and try and get some sleep. By the way, if you see me, just please refrain from asking me how I'm doing. At least for the time being. Just assume that I'm doing okay because that's all I'm going to tell you anyways. It's the one thing I'll lie about. Don't want to, but I also don't want to risk talking about how depressed I actually am. At least in person. The blog is different. That way I can cry without having anyone look at me. So, it would be really great if you could just keep the conversation light for now.
Oh, and thanks for listening (well, reading)! Maybe next time I can write about something funny and lighthearted, like sex. What can I say? I have a weird sense of humor...        
  

Struggling with feminism...

Today I've decided to share my thoughts on this particular blog entry that deals with the issue of feminism. I was going to write something short and potentially funny, yet slightly profound, on my Facebook wall, but then I couldn't get myself to shut up, so I figured: Why not publish it on my blog?

So what can I say about this before I pass out? Personally, I don't like the term "feminist". This is probably due to the fact that this and any related terms hold a negative connotation for me. Many times when I hear someone call themselves a "feminist", they either do so while engaging in the "oh-so-fun" male-bashing or they happen to be someone like Miley Cyrus. Now, despite the fact that I have been known to crush a few male egos (it really is a gift...j/k), I love men. I mean, I loooooove men! Was that too much?

In addition to that, I can't really identify with most feminists, so I would never think of calling myself one. I hold doors open for men and women alike; if I am financially able to, I am more than willing to pay for others (unless it happens ALL the time, and I don't get ANYTHING in return...); I tend to naturally get along with men more than with women (because let's face it, women can be bitches...then again, so can men...); etc. I just don't buy into the whole "men have to do/be this, women have to do/be that".

As for the engagement ring, here's a news flash: You don't need one to be engaged. They're 1) too expensive (I mean, seriously, do you know how much a 1-carat stone costs? Go ahead, google it, I'll wait...), and it is too impractical/potentially dangerous for a klutz like me (Come one, when will I wear it? When I'm out and about, hanging out with my friends? Pfffft... Besides, it would probably lead to my death anyways, just like new socks...and errant razor blades...).

Unfortunately, it is still true that many men are raised to be fearless, which oddly enough does result in a fear of fear and vulnerability. That being said, I have the same issue, but this probably has more to do with a combination of me wanting to make my father, the Army of One in persona, proud (tut mir leid Mama...hdl), and me not ever wanting to be hurt by anyone ever again (that is its own little story that doesn't need to be elaborated on at this time).

However, while I do believe in equality between the sexes (if someone is better qualified for a job, they a) deserve to be hired for that job, and b) deserve to receive an adequate pay, regardless of whether their reproductive organs are laid out according to feng shui or not...you might not want to quote me on that one), I will openly confess that I do worry from time to time that men find me too intimidating... I mean, do they? I honestly dunno...it would explain the lack of a boyfriend... Maybe one of you guys could tell me? Or maybe one of the guys could tell me? I actually am kinda curious about that...

Anyways...all in all, I guess I can be considered to be a feminist in some ways, but I wouldn't restrict myself to that label. It really boils down to: Are you a decent human being? Yes? Then we'll get along and I can respect you. If you want to act like an asshole, fine, just don't expect me to respect or interact with you. That applies to everyone equally...well, except for family, you're kinda stuck with those people... 

So, what do you guys think of feminism? Should everyone be one? Would you consider yourselves to be feminists? Let me know.

A bit of self-hatred

Here you lie before me, yet again. Looking at me with those wide eyes. Do you expect any mercy from me? Whenever I look at you, my hate towards you increases. As much as I want to kill you, I know that a simple and quick death will never do. I want to hurt you, I want to see you suffer, I want to hear you scream. Just give up, accept the inevitable, let me take over. Give me your soul so that I can tear it to shreds. I don't want any part of you to survive. Are you crying? That's so cute..and pointless. Everyone has a breaking point, even you, so just give in. Fighting me won't save you. So what should I use on you first: the baseball bat, the knives...how about some of sulfuric acid? What did I say? Fighting won't help. Oh, you still think that someone will come and save you from me? Assuming that there is someone interested in saving you, how will they stop me? We're inseparable, aren't we? But all joking aside, nobody will come to save you. Because nobody really likes you. No, nobody ever has. They all hate you. Everyone has been lying to you. They always have. I'll be doing them a favor by killing you. That's right, nobody will miss you. Oh ssshhh, it's alright... Now, where to start? Do I break your kneecaps? Dislocate your shoulders? Or should I just go ahead and cut off that ugly face of yours? Do you know how many people have been traumatized after looking at that...whatever it's supposed to be? I would be doing everyone a great favor by removing it. Don't worry, this will actually be an improvement to the way you looked before. Oh, and don't cry over missing out on love, sex, and happiness. Nobody wants you anyways. Let's face it, someone would have to be really fucked up to be interested in you. That's it, can't you feel the calm descending on you? Give in to the inevitable. Let me save you from yourself and this pathetic existence of yours.

Death of Selflessness

Before I start with the actual entry, I would like to apologize, yet again, for not updating my blog more often. I promise to do my best, and hopefully, I will be able to provide you guys (whoever you may be) with more frequent and entertaining rants/stories/etc. on a more regular basis.
Alright, on to the main event: The following is a short story I wrote in November 2008 for one of my classes. I don't want to go into too much detail, but there were a couple of things that happened to me in that year which may have influenced the storyline just a wee bit. When I started out, all I knew was how I wanted the story to end, and so I basically worked my way backwards. It isn't the best story in the world, I discovered a few things that I wanted to change as I was retyping it for this blog, but I got a good grade for it, the instructor liked it, so (with a few tiny exceptions) I left it the way it was. Feel free to comment or not comment, either way I hope you all enjoy it!

Death of Selflessness

“Wait! You forgot your lunch!” “Ah, you are too good to me,” Jacob replied as he gave Rebecca a kiss on the lips. “Yeah, yeah...just leave or you'll be late for work.” Laughing, Jacob drove off, and as his taillights disappeared in the distance, Rebecca let out a long sigh, placed her hands on her hips and returned to the house. The house always seemed so dark when Jacob was gone, even with all the curtains and windows open. “So depressing...,” was all Rebecca managed to mutter as she let herself plop onto the living room couch. After turning on the television and realizing that, as always, nothing interesting was on at eight in the morning, she turned the television back off and stared blankly at the wall. Rebecca and Jacob had lived in their six-bedroom house for three years now. She personally felt that living in such a huge house was overkill, but since she knew that it would please her husband, she had decided to give in. Yes, Jacob and Rebecca were married, even though the road to the wedding had been littered with its own share of bumps and potholes. They had separated five times before finally settling down. Each break-up had its own reason: Jacob cheated on Rebecca, Rebecca cheated on Jacob, he thought Rebecca had cheated on him, Rebecca went to Europe to advance her career, and the cause of the final break-up was Rebecca's pregnancy. This last separation had been especially devastating and surprisingly unifying at the same time. Jacob had run out on her, and Rebecca had gotten into a horrible accident. It had been so damaging that she ended up losing the child. When Jacob had come crawling back with an increased amount of affection for her after the miscarriage, all she had wanted to do was shove a few fuck yous up his ass, but she eventually took him back anyway, mainly because she saw how miserable he was without her. Funny, Jacob never struck anyone as the miserable type. He was, after all, a CEO at a Fortune 500 company... Still staring at the wall as if in a hypnotic state, Rebecca couldn't help but think that having a child would keep her preoccupied...and of course, how different her life would be if she hadn't miscarried. However, she couldn't possibly have a child now...well, SHE could. Her body had managed to recover from that experience. Unfortunately, Jacob was still very adamant about not having kids, which is odd considering that he was hardly ever home to begin with. Being the good wife that she was, Rebecca had given in...and secretly hated herself for it. That was just the way it seemed to be lately...or maybe it hadn't been that way just lately. She had always catered to everyone else's needs and wants, and during the times she had to herself, Rebecca just didn't know what to do. “No wonder I'm so bored whenever Jacob's at work. I have nobody to look after but myself,” Rebecca said to nobody in particular, “Am I really that pathetic?”                                                                         

Twelve hours later and nobody to talk to but herself, Rebecca was fuming. Her husband should have been back three hours ago, and he didn't even have the courtesy to call her and let her know that he would be late. Sure, Rebecca could have spent hours on end chatting and hanging out with her friends, but most of them lived overseas. She could have spent time with her mother, but she lived faraway, and talking to her was also out of the question because she had to learn to live on her own and not constantly rely on her mother. Rebecca hated shopping or partying or any type of socializing, and so had no other choice than to stay at home...and think. Most days, she didn't mind being alone, but today was an entirely different story. She had built up a rage to end all of modern civilization if packaged in a nuclear weapon, and that upset her even more because she couldn't explain this extreme onslaught of hostility. And yet, here she was, stewing in it, with Jacob set up as the most convenient target. Somehow, after spending most of her life living for others, all of a sudden, she was sick of it. Something had to be done, and before this black hole of self-neglect swallowed her whole... There he was...that selfish prick of a husband. “Hey sweetheart! I missed you soooo much! There was so much work to do...,” Jacob exclaimed while swooping down and showering Rebecca with tender kisses. Usually, this gesture would have been enough to placate Rebecca; instead it just added fuel to the fire. To keep herself from blowing up at him, she tried to say as little as possible, and therefore could only reply with a dry “Aha...” Of course, she was thinking about slapping that stupid grin off his face, but she figured that physical violence was still uncalled for. “Just let him push me a little bit further,” was all she could think while grinding her teeth. Everything would have gone well, and Rebecca would have calmed down if Jacob hadn't said this: “Sooo, what's for dinner, lover?” “First off, save yourself the sweet talk, and how does a fist down your throat sound for dinner?!” “Umm, not good? What's wrong, hon...” “What did I say about the sweet talk? Zip it. If you want something to eat, you can make it your damned self. I'm sick and tired of catering to your lazy ass! Yeah, you might earn most of the money, but at least you get to leave this depressing hole for eight to ten hours every day. I've done whatever you have wanted me to: I took you back after you cheated on me; I groveled before you, begging you to take me back after I cheated on you; I accepted your apology and took you back again after you falsely accused me of cheating on you; I refused a prestigious position at one of the leading international publishing companies so I could be with you; and then, I took you back again after you left me when I was pregnant and then miscarried!!! Why? Because you were so pathetic, I thought you were going to slit your wrists! And still...that's not enough, is it?! I'm a good housewife! I stay in shape for you! I do things in the bedroom that I could never, NEVER, mention to a living soul! And most importantly...I desperately want children, but because you're still so “traumatized,” I can never have children! I mean what's the point of this damn six-bedroom house, if we aren't going to fill it with children...or other people anyways! And why do I settle for not having any children? Because I am TOO FUCKING GOOD TO YOU!!!!” Storming out of the house, she heard Jacob yell something, but she couldn't have cared less about him at that moment. Rebecca was feeling energized and free as she drove off in her car. She didn't know where she was going or what she was going to do once she got to this unknown destination, but she felt lighter than she had felt since...well, ever. It hit her about fifteen minutes later: hunger...and something else, something rather sneaky... She hadn't meant to blow up at him like that. What would happen once she got back home? Will Jacob have changed the locks? Put her things on the street? File for divorce? This guilt and anxiety started to eat away at her in much the same way as she wanted to eat away at burritos, hamburgers, and huge bowls of spaghetti drowned in tomato sauce and shredded cheese. Chewing on her lower lip until it bled, she fought with herself about whether she had been in the right or the wrong. “Yes, a conversation was necessary, but that wasn't a conversation...that was me tearing him a new asshole... It's my fault because I could have just stopped catering to him all the time, and haven't I always been that way towards everyone? He should be more sensitive towards my needs and wants though too...” This mental and emotional war of worlds went on until Rebecca could have passed for one of the wax figures at Madame Tussaud's. Old habits die hard, and before Rebecca could smother the last bit of life out of her self-destructive selflessness, it came back with a vengeance. She decided to not only get herself something to eat, but also decided to get Jacob his favorite fast food. While waiting for the food, she thought to herself, “We'll get through this somehow. We just need to have a calm, more thorough conversation about this. We can work it out.” A new spring in her step, smile on her face, and food in her hands, she was ready for a new start. For a new Rebecca, who could be selfless and take care of herself as well. She couldn't wait. However, she would have to wait forever for she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She was confused. Confused as to why she was losing control over her body. Confused as to why her shirt was getting wetter and wetter and darker and darker. Confused as to why the ground was getting closer and closer to her face. Confused as to why the world around her was getting darker and darker. Somehow she now knew what was happening as she started crying. “No...I can't...not now...” was all she could say before everything went completely dark.                                                                       

The next morning the police reported that a young woman named Rebecca Marie James had died from a gunshot wound to the abdominal region at the age of 28. On an even sadder note, her unborn child had also died. To this day, nobody knows who shot her or why. Many people who knew her intimately, not that there were many people who knew her to begin with, also asked themselves what her last thought could have been. If they had truly known her, it would have become clear that the last thought would not have been of what she would lose. Even though it seems silly, she could only think of getting her husband his food.

Letters (Part One)

Dear everyone who crosses my path, Why the frack are you staring at me? Is there something wrong with my appearance? Are my shoelaces untied? Is my fly undone? Am I bleeding profusely? Do I have all of Kpop-dom sitting on my head? What is up with the staring? Is this possibly the first time you've ever seen a human being? When you guys (and girls) stare at me like that and it's not just an isolated incident, there are a few things that happen: 1) I worry, 2) I get paranoid, and 3) I get pissed off. Luckily for you, my parents raised me to not randomly punch people in the face, which is good for you, but not necessarily so healthy for an angry Bettina. If you're staring at me because I'm tall and fat, I know. If it's because of the big boobs, I know. If it's because I have fish eyes, this too I know. As much as you people are staring, I might as well move to Asia or Africa because at least then I could understand the staring. The bizarre thing is, about 99.99% of the people staring at me are fellow Europeans and Americans. Congratulations! You've all been deemed impolite d-bags, who should know better and should be ashamed of yourselves. Thank you for helping me reaffirm my choice in future continent of residence. Sincerely, Borderline Ticked-Off

Much-needed Update

Hey everybody, I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. I know you've gone with longer periods of radio silence, but still. I haven't posted in so long because I wanted to prep some countdown posts for my blog, but I can't seem to focus or get my internet to cooperate with me long enough to get much of anything accomplished. In addition to that, school has taken over most of my daily life (as it should). So what's been going on with me? A cold, mostly. Oh, and research for my two papers that are due by the end of this month. Of course, there's always K-Pop to listen to...oh, but wait...you guys don't even know about that development, do you? Well, that is unless you've been paying attention to my Facebook or have actually been around me these last few months. Anyways, the plan for the next few posts will be a series of countdowns. They should be very video-heavy, and hopefully, quite enjoyable. Also in the works, videos of yours truly. Yes, I want to try and post videos of myself. Why? Because I'm that self-absorbed. I don't know. Look forward to all the fun! Take care, Bettina

Things I am grateful for

Since today is Thanksgiving, I have decided to compile a list of things/people I am grateful for. Hence the title "Things I am grateful for"... I know, how very original. Just read...or don't. 1) Being back in school: Let's face it, there's nothing more sobering than returning to school and realizing how stupid you are compared to all dem youngsters out there. If I had at least had a job that utilized my educational skills then I could overlook this nagging feeling of inadequacy, but that just wasn't the case. However, I do love being back in school. It provides me with certain challenges that can be quite painful sometimes, but I would much rather take this kind of stress than having to witness the slow and excruciatingly painful decay of my brain. 2) A lack of hand sanitizers: Thank you Germany for not being obsessed with sterilization! Sure I've seen antiseptic sprays, but I can count off on one hand how often I've seen them. You just don't see people here whip out their hand sanitizers everytime they've thought about touching something. If you want clean hands you simply wash your hands with water and soap. What a novel concept, right? Plus, this also means that you won't hear "Oh, I can skip washing my hands. I'll just use the hand sanitizer." after someone uses the restroom. *shudder* 3) Public transportation: I don't have to worry about gas. I don't have to worry about parking. I don't have to worry about traffic. Sure, I have to share a space with other people and sometimes I have to stand in the bus or street car, but I'll gladly do that than be worried about all of these car-related issues. Oh, and you're not necessarily faster if you do decide to drive. So that's out the window too. Here's another bonus for you party people: You don't have to worry about drinking and driving. You can go out and have a few drinks and then just stumble into the bus or street car. 4) Eye candy: Sorry people, I have needs too. The number of attractive people is quite a bit higher here than at my last place of residence. I know: "How dare you be so superficial? Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Uhh, yeah, I have. I know what I look like. I'm not saying that I want to date a skinny or overly pretty guy or anything like that (a wicked sense of humor, intellect, and amazing voice do trump muscle mass), but I can still appreciate physically attractive people. To me it's more like going to a museum and appreciating the various works of art. "Oh, how can you objectify people like that?" It's simple: Until I become acquainted with you on a personal level, you're another living creature sharing this space. It's not like I'm going out of my way to ignore people, but if you don't give me the slightest of clues that you want to interact with me then I'm not gonna bother you. 'Nuf said. 5) The expected: My parents: I would like to express my gratitude for having tolerant and accepting parents. Yes, we have our issues, but when I look at the way some of my friends are treated by their parents and families, I am fully aware that my parents are genuinely good people. They don't care if you're gay/straight/bi/trans/black/blue/Hispanic/Asian/etc., but you can't be an asshole or complete douche. My parents never mentioned how they felt about other groups, so I grew up blissfully unaware of this unnecessary hate and discrimination that so many people seem to have. My parents might have made a few mistakes in their time, but raising a bunch of blindly prejudiced fools was not one of them. 6) My siblings: I have to mention them because otherwise war might break out (j/k...kinda). Both of them still have quite a bit of growing up to do, and they really need to learn how to become more self-aware, but both have their hearts in the right place. So, you two, continue to work on yourselves and everything should be fine. 7) My nephew: Yes, he deserves his own spot on this list. He's such a cutie. I can already tell that he's gonna be a complete heartthrob, and he's going to be one of the coolest people ever because anyone who can enjoy RuPaul, "Gangnam Style," and Family Guy is a shining beacon of hope for humanity. Then again, I am his aunt, so he has no choice but to be cool, right? (I'm not conceited at all...) Who knows, maybe I'm just really grateful to have a disciple to corrupt. *mwahhahaha* 8) The kitties(!!!): Of course, the kitties deserve a place here. They're kinda like my children. My moody, fluffy, children with claws. Without them life would honestly be terrible. Sure they can be irritating, but there is this unconditional love, and in a world filled with people who, at times, fake feelings of love and compassion in order to gain some kind of benefit or advantage, I can come home to my cats and know that they at least don't hate me. 9) The people who accept me for who I am: Some of you know that I have said that life would be easier if everyone just hated me, and it's still true. If everyone hates you then you don't have to care about what you say or do. In fact, I still don't know why you guys like me (or merely tolerate me) or miss me. However, it's you, who make life more tolerable, naughty and fun. 10) Booze: Yeah, I needed one more point so that people wouldn't be confused by a list that only includes nine points. Alcohol definitely is my drug of choice. Seriously, can't you hear my liver screaming. Just kidding, if it were to actually start screaming, it certainly wouldn't be because of the friggin' booze. Anyway, that's it. If you've made it this far without bleeding profusely from your eyes and ears, congratulations! Yeah, that's all you're gonna get. I mean, what do you want? A cookie? Some kind of medal? Get outta here! Get off da friggin' internets and spend some time with your family unit of choice, okay? Happy Thanksgiving to everyone and bonne chance with surviving Black Friday...ugh, I know, I feel so bad for you. All those people going psycho over stuff that they're only buying because it's marked down...I mean, the volume is insane, and try talking to customers with all that noise and suffering from a sore throat...it's like you're at some kind of night club, except the music sucks (well, mainly because there is no music) and there is no booze (wouldn't it be more fun for the employees to be completely liquored up?)...oh wait! Something else to be grateful for: NO BLACK FRIDAY!!! Because it doesn't exist in Germany! Thank you! Yes, winning! Winning! Oh, I mean, oooohhhh... Until next time!!!

Adventures in Dreamland (Episode Zero)

Dark hallways, soft red and pink lights, rooms on either side filled with men and women involved in intimate conversations and other activities. How did I get here? Why am I in this building? Trying not to attract attention to myself, I start to wander past the rooms, highly aware of my own breathing. Every so often I can't help myself and peek into the rooms: Men with their hands on womens' knees and thighs, whispering sweet nothings into their ears. Women seemingly hanging onto their every word and laughing at the appropriate intervals. I know that I'm here for a reason, but I also know that I need to get out as quickly as possible. Right in front of me the hallway opens up into a bigger room filled with more people. What do I do now? If someone sees me, they'll think that I belong here and I will never make it out. I glance around and am relieved that noone is paying attention to me, but as I try to move forward, one of the women looks right at me. Our eyes meet and my breathing stops, but after what seems like an eternity, she gives me the slightest of nods and I sneak past them into one of the few empty rooms. I look around and try to gather my thoughts. I try to calm my racing heart. There is another door I can use as an exit, but as I move towards it, I hear a man behind me. "Excuse me. Where do you think you're going?" Please don't turn around, just run. However, I can't and I slowly turn around to see a man in a business suit. Brown, slicked-back hair, piercing eyes, a no-nonsense expression, and exuding the air of superiority. He isn't the most attractive man, but I can't seem to tear myself away from him and his stare. "You're new, aren't you?" No, no, no, this is a big misunderstanding. I want to explain, but I can barely breathe. Suddenly, someone else joins us: the woman who saw me a few moments earlier. She tries to distract him. "Oh no, you don't want her. She's too inexperienced, but I will be more than happy to assist you." I'm grateful to have her in the same room. "No need. I saw her first and she seems perfectly capable of fulfilling my needs. Besides, if she's so inexperienced, I will see to it that she only works for me. Is that a problem?" "No. No, of course not. Would you like for me to leave?" "No, that won't be necessary. This will be quick." What?! No, this can't be happening. What does he mean with "quick"? I want to defend myself, to run, but I'm trapped in my own body. All I can do is stand and stare, my naturally wide eyes growing increasingly wider. He starts to walk towards me, and I can see a hint of a smirk. It feels like eons have passed before he reaches me, before he stands so close to me that I can smell him, before I can hear his calm and steady heartbeat. His voice is deep, smooth and almost soothing as he places his lips closely to my ear and gives me the first instruction: "Take off your clothes." I take a few steps back and raise my fingers to the buttons on my shirt. Even though I'm so nervous, I somehow manage to skillfully unbutton my shirt and let it fall to the floor. After that, I remove the rest of my clothes until I'm completely naked and exposed. I try to look at him, so he can tell me what to do next. He seems pleased. "Lay down on the bed." I look around for the bed and lay down so I can look up at the ceiling. Pretty soon, I see him lifting up the covers and getting into bed next to me. "Turn around and face me." I shift onto my side and find myself face to face with him. Our noses are touching each other and I can't stand looking him directly in the eyes without my eyes fluttering wildly and threatening to shut on me, so I just stare at his chest. "Put your leg around me." I steady myself by putting my hand on his arm, but accidentally place my leg between his legs at first. Always so clumsy, even here, with him. "Sorry," is all I manage to say and quickly place my leg on top of his. I can feel it, I know it's there, but I'm nervous. Is it the fear to disappoint? I can feel the anticipation building. I can feel him. What if I don't fulfill his expectations and needs? My heartbeat is getting louder and stronger with each passing moment. Why do I care? So close, almost...

Conversations with Myself (Part One)

I can hear her slink up to me. That look of pure disgust and utter amusement at my suffering. I don't want to listen to what she has to say, but she'll say it anyway. She always does. What a mess... You really have a knack for fucking things up. However, I can't say that I'm surprised. It was only a matter of time before you screwed up this relationship. It wasn't a relationship. Not like that. We were...are friends. Really? But you certainly would have liked one with him. What was your plan with this...boy anyway? A bit of corruption? Were you going to take his innocence and introduce him to your world of perversion? Shit! She really knows how to drag out my darkest thoughts. What an annoying bitch! I wouldn't have let that happen... Oh my gosh! That's right, I forgot...he's your SUNSHINE! You really are a piece of work. Was he going to save you from yourself? From your depression? From me? You really thought that, didn't you? So stupid. You know, with your stupidity, I'm surprised that you don't just forget how to breathe. That's really enough. Oh no, I'm not done. Yet. You do know that she's better for him...don't you? Look at you, you're older than him. She's actually in his age group. She's prettier, cuter, probably smarter, quirkier, more innocent...oh, and far less depressing. Just imagine it, a year with you and the kid will be half as cynical as you, on anti-depressants, and contemplating suicide every time he looks at your sad face. Oh, and don't even get me started on the sex. Your last boyfriend couldn't stand the sight of the jiggly mess you've become so much that he couldn't even stomach the thought of fingering you. How was your sex life with the kid going to work out? Were you going to scar him for life? I can't help but feel sorry for him! Poor kid. I know how traumatizing it is for me to watch you masturbate, so I can only imagine what horrors he managed to escape. Her laughter at my misery. I can't stand it. Tears roll down my face and she laughs even more. Yes, I know. I was stupid for thinking that happiness and love would ever be able to find me. She leaves me, but the laughter lingers. I have been defeated by her again, only a hollow shell yearning for death to strike me down. I should be so lucky. My true punishment will be survival and the knowledge that she will return.

Temptation Calling

Or texting, as it was in my case. In order to explain this, and how I came to the realization that I must be stupid, let's go back a few weeks to St. Patrick's Day. Naturally, I was at work because that's where I always seem to be when others are off living life and having fun. As fate would have it, I would wind up repeatedly helping customers in the canning room. One of these customers happened to be a fairly attractive young man whose right leg was wrapped up. I talked to him about what had happened to his leg and found out that he had a tear in his patella. It was light conversation...and then came the shocker: "Are you single?" "Yes." "Can I have your number?" "Sure." Without thinking, I had handed over my phone number to a stranger, an attractive stranger, but a stranger all the same. Honestly, I wasn't expecting to hear from the guy, but, surprisingly enough, he started texting me the next morning.
Maybe I should have taken the texting as a sign. I know I'm a bit ancient when it comes to modern-day courtship (not to mention that I've had so little action that I'm practically still a virgin), but the texting seemed a bit off. However, I decided to overlook it.
Maybe I should have taken the breakdown of my cellphone as a sign that this potential connection was not meant to be. However, I still ignored everything and bought a new battery and phone. Why? Because of a boy.
Another warning sign came up when I offered to meet up with him and got no response. Why would you ask for someone's phone number and not want to at least occasionally hang out with that person?
After about a week of not hearing from the guy, I decided that maybe this wasn't quite meant to be and was determined to occasionally send him texts, but not get my hopes up. Of course, this was the sign the universe needed to throw me a curveball and send him through my line at work. This encounter led to a seemingly renewed interest in communications between the two of us.
He had supposedly helped to set up a fairly popular adult entertainment site on Facebook, which I was able to verify later on. I liked the basic concept of the site and felt that this open view about sex might be a potential unifying factor. Unfortunately, I was then also able to find out, thank you social networking sites, that he was not only in a relationship, but that his girlfriend is also currently pregnant with their child.
Really... I mean, really? REALLY?! PFFF, WHAT THE FRACK?!?! Why would you ask me if I'm single and ask me for my phone number? Why didn't I ask him if he was single from the beginning?
So, I wound up torn between being pissed at him and at myself. Well, I still am. However, I resisted the voices telling me to do what I had seen my sister do: Shoot first, ask questions later. I needed to know if this information was the real deal or just plain false/antiquated, but I didn't want to walk into the situation with guns blazing. I wanted to lure the guy in and then, when he felt safe and comfortable, gently feel my way through to the truth.
Needless to say, that kinda fell through. After telling me that he missed me and really wanted to see me and that we should really hang out at some point (had I not previously suggested this?), I had to tell myself that I needed to find out the truth, and if need be, kick him to the curb.
And that brings us to yesterday... I went on my lunch break, turned on my phone, and received another text from him. We chatted, one thing led to another, and he asked me if I would have sex with him after I was done with work. What? Sex offered to me on a silver platter? The bestest gift anyone could ever offer me? Now let's ignore that I'm going to be standing on my feet for almost eight hours (trust me, I would welcome the time I got to spend on my back afterwards), get off of work at midnight, have to be up at six in the morning, and am therefore supertired (and yes, I get the irony of me still being awake at this time...I mean, I might as well have said yes to the sex). In addition to that, let's overlook me being on my period and not wanting bloodied-up nether regions to be the first sexual impression. Oh yeah, the guy's in a relationship and going to be a dad! And I don't even know if the girlfriend knows about our interactions...
I thanked him for the generous offer (my parents raised us kids to always be polite), but declined due to my schedule. Needless to say, he had a bit of a hissy fit (ever heard of masturbation?). He stated that he could always find someone to sleep with him (yes, it's called your right and your left hands), and of course, my reaction was to get mad and tear into him (you cross the bull, you get the horns), which caused him to apologize (destroying egos, it's a talent). Here's the thing, I'm not a teenage girl blinded by "love," so if you think you can pressure me into having sex with you or doing some crazy shit, that won't work with me. I've had the pleasure of being in abusive relationships early on in my life, and so I've come to learn that I might as well be alone than be a puppet. I was raised to do the right thing, even if that means making some hard decisions. I don't mean to brag, but making hard decisions is my specialty because if someone threatens me with fewer friends and sex, I feel alone most of the time anyway, so even though I care, I know that it isn't worth the pain in the long run.
So, what's the current status? I didn't have sex with him (I would have loved to), he is in a relationship (and she doesn't know about our interactions), and I feel stupid and like the biggest joke in the universe. It's either people who need mothers and therapists, people who want to make fun of me, or who just want to use me for their own selfish agendas.
Now mind you, I don't care about an fwb-type of relationship, or even having sex with someone who is already in a relationship, as long as everyone is on the same page. However, if someone doesn't know about it then they probably wouldn't be okay with these "extracurricular activities," and if you're going to become a parent then you should focus on your child first (at least most of the time).
Anyway, I've cried a little bit, even though I didn't want to. I'm mad at myself for handing out my number and for not having sex (hello, we all know how badly I've been wanting some physical loving!), and I'm upset with this guy.
So, the conclusion is that I must be stupid. However, I'm sure that with a lot of booze and battery power, this crisis shall also pass.

Adventures in Jobland

As some of you are aware of (and by some, I mean like all two of you), I suffered from mild hypothermia as a result of my last attempt at making some money around two months ago. As a result, I had to quit my job of delivering newspapers. Oddly enough, the universe decided to take a break from laughing at my pathetic excuse for a life and threw me a bone. The bone came in the form of a job offer from Wal-Mart, which I gladly took. Of course, since the universe is worse than M. Night Shyamalan (sorry Mr. Shyamalan), there just had to be a twist: I now work 90 minutes away from home. I wouldn't mind a commute...if I could take a bus/street car/train/etc. So, I've managed to trap myself just a little bit. I'll deal with it for now, and hopefully, I can come up with a decent solution (which I should since I now spend 15 hours...on the road...by myself).
As much as one hears horror stories about working at Wal-Mart, I haven't come to find it that terrible. That's probably because I have this habit of having the almost opposite reaction to situations than the average person would. So, the worse a situation is expected to be, the more, dare I say, positive of a reaction I tend to have to it.
I've come to realize that some of the worst customers are actually Wal-Mart employees (go figure). Self-checkouts can be great when you have a steady stream of customers coming through, but some people just don't get that self-checkouts are there so you can ring yourself up. It's weird because most people can tell you that suicide means to kill oneself, but those same people seem to not know what self-checkout means. Hmmm...
In addition to that, most people don't know how to shop or organize their groceries, and yet they all seem to know how I'm supposed to do my job. Here's the deal: You shop for all non-food items first, and then you go through the grocery section (dry items first and dairy/frozen/other refrigerated items last). The second rule is that unless you're bagging your items yourself, you should put the items on the belt in the order you expect the cashier/bagger to bag them. Remember people, I can't read your minds and if you want to have a speedier checkout, you're going to have to help me at least a little bit.
Now, do I expect my customers to read this blog and learn from it? No, of course not. I'm idealistic, not delusional. I never expect anyone to pay attention to me, but who knows, maybe I can provide some entertainment for someone.
Since it's almost time for me to get ready for bed, I'm going to finish this entry here. However, I will do my darndest to keep everyone on the up and up about what's going on in my corner of the universe.

Alla prossima!

Foray into Jobland

This blog entry was intended to talk about my first week at the first job I've had since July 2009. That is until I managed to screw up my body temperature after the first morning at work. So, what kind of job did I manage to get? Drumroll please...Newspaper carrier. Yeah, that's how I feel too.
Don't worry about me though. I had to call in and quit the job today (yes, it would have only been my second day). I'm not proud of it, and had I thought the situation through more thoroughly, I wouldn't have applied for this job in the first place.
I didn't mind carrying out newspapers...even after slipping and busting my knee on someone else's driveway. I didn't mind the physicality of the job. Trust me, I need to lose at least 50% of my current weight, so from that perspective, the job would have been a godsend. What I did mind was that I was jumping from an extremely hot car out into the extreme cold and vice versa. Multiple times. For two hours. Now, I've spent a couple of hours out in the cold, but I was out in the cold that whole entire time, and so it didn't take that much of a toll on my body. Unfortunately, the extreme temperature switches caused everything to feel way too cold for me, even in a heated house, dressed in sweats, wrapped up in a comforter. After several unsuccessful attempts at falling asleep (two hours worth) because everything was just too damn cold, I put on a robe, and sure enough, I finally managed to fall asleep after 15 minutes. Fastforward to 1:15 a.m.: My alarm went off, and I woke up drenched in sweat and feeling terribly nauseous. After trying to work my way through feeling hot and cold at the same time, and fighting against urges to vomit and pass out for almost two hours, I made the difficult decision (for me at least) to go against my principles and tossed in the towel.
Afterwards I went back to bed and passed out for a few more hours.
I do feel a bit better now, but now I'm back to square one jobwise.
As for you readers, I guess the moral of this story is to be aware of one's limitations, and know when it is absolutely worth killing yourself over a job and when it is time to back down. Don't quit a job just because your body feels sore or you feel a bit tired. However, if you're so sick that you have to go to the ER, and your job had a major and direct role in this, then you should definitely consider your options.
Well, I'm finally done with my rambling.

As always, lots of love from my little bubble in the universe.

Take care,
Bettina

Home Life (1)

Here I am, standing in my brother's room...wondering why in the world I have been stuck with doing his job. It is 10 at night. My mother's sleeping in the room across the hall, and even though she has to be up by 5 in the morning, everyone is still wide awake, loud, and borderline obnoxious. I can hear my brother laughing in the garage, my sister and her boyfriend are also still laughing, my father is either drifting off to sleep or (when he is awake) making borderline inappropriate jokes and just generally talking way too loudly. I just want to sit back and relax in a dimly-lit room. Who knows, maybe watch some Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations.
No, instead I'm stuck cleaning out the litterbox in my brother's room. Why? Because he is incapable of doing it himself, and my sister asked me to. So, I decided to be nice. Of course it didn't help that my father told me to be flexible. I may be a quarter of a century old, but due to a lack of a job and having to live with my parents, I don't have a choice but to listen to my parents. Not that it really matters because whatever I do I will always be Miss Inflexible to my father. Oh well, such seems to be my fate.
Fortunately, everything seems to have finally calmed down, so I can now sit down and take a few deep breaths.
Here's to the end of a hectic and loud day...

Until some other time,
Miss Inflexible

Breaking point (not for the sensitive or overly optimistic)

Yes everyone, Bettina is depressed. Again. This would be no surprise, if my depression weren't so bad this time that I just wanted to lay down and die. *gasp* Yes, I used the d-word. Before anyone goes into savior mode and calls 911, let me just say that I've been suffering from depression off and on (mostly on) since at least the age of 8. So, do not panic (I'm not worried about most of you, just about the lone Christian mother who might accidentally stumble across this blog, and think that she can actually help someone like me).
At this point in my life, actively trying to end my life is too exhausting anyway. However, I won't be doing anything to stop my death either (sounds weird, but you spend some time living my life and then you can come back and talk to me about how it went for you...who knows, maybe you're able to live my life better than I currently am).
I am currently living in a house filled mostly with people who aren't aware of and don't even care how their actions and feelings affect everyone else. Everyone else gets mad at me when I point out the bull**** that goes on in this house, but then I'm also supposed to be happy all the time. I was raised to speak my mind and be honest, but nobody likes it when that happens. However, people like it even less when I don't say anything or lie. So, here's my solution: Give me a script because I am a great actress. I am great at portraying other people, but I obviously suck at being me.
I can see why people get drunk or drugged up because right now, those two seem to be very viable options, and they're looking better with each passing minute in this hellhole.
My brother's a whiny bitch and drama queen, who's way too damn lucky for his own good. My sister, even though she has matured quite a bit, can't decide whether she wants to be nice or bitchy, and she was like this before she managed to get knocked up. My sister's boyfriend is also a bitch, who thinks this is his house, wastes my sister's gas and money, is disrespectful (particularly towards women), and thinks he can get in a pissing contest with me just because we're the same age. As for my dad, oh my dear sweet dad...it seemed that he was finally able to mellow out, until recently that is. He very recently fell back on a very bad habit by threatening to move back to Texas. Why? Supposedly because he hates this house (I'm guessing it's more that he hates the people in this house, but he would NEVER admit to that) and because he was angry about how the house is or is not cleaned up. For once though, I wasn't there when this happened (I was in Chinese class at the time), which is weird because if you ask the majority of the people in this house, I am at fault for everyone's problems. Here's the issue: As much as my dad thinks he cleans up, he does more complaining about it.
Since at least three people have threatened to move out, here's what I have to say: Move the hell out! Stop talking about it and do it. If you supposedly earn so much money that you can afford to threaten people with moving out then you do it. This applies particularly to my siblings. Now, as for my dad, you're not a damn kid. You're a father of four (even though you only had to raise three), you're married, so you can't afford to just get up and leave, and even less to talk about such things.
As for me, I would love to move out since that seems to be my only chance at what is considered to be happiness. Personally, I wouldn't know what happiness is, even if it slapped me across the face. However, I'm incapable of finding and landing a job, which means I'm not making any money, so I can't afford to move. Heck, I can't even threaten people with a move. So, if anyone has a legitimate job for me, please let me know. If you have any other solutions, please let me know.
The only person who isn't currently driving me insane is my mother. She has always been the patient and understanding one, and now she is also at her breaking point, which is kinda sad because it took her a lot longer to get there than it took me. I feel bad for her because she has to suffer through all of this. I'm sure that if she knew 100% that she could get another decent job (or a job period) in Germany, she would just move back there. I'm sure my Oma would enjoy getting to see my mother on a regular basis again.
In many ways, moving back to the USA is the worst decision we, as a family, have ever made (aside from the fact that my parents had three children because I think that that was the beginning of the end for them). I don't completely regret it because of all the wonderful people I was able to meet and befriend, none of whom I ever get to see anymore (no thanks to overwhelming stress and depression and a complete lack of money). However, I also had friends in Germany when I left. People I still miss, but since, in addition to the reasons why I don't see any of my American friends anymore, my German friends have more friends who they are much closer to elsewhere, I highly doubt that my absence was and still is much of loss to them. Thinking about this, I do believe that this also applies to my American friends though... It just seems to be easier to stay physically present in the lives of, well, at least some of my American friends. In addition to that, I could have gotten my degree for a lot less money in Germany than here, and I believe it would have been easier as well, especially considering that I lived and could have studied in Heidelberg, which is known for its medicine and language studies. I would have also been skinnier and healthier. Healthcare would have cost less. I could have had more of a social life and been more independent. I probably could have also had a job by now (who knows with that one though...).
Anyway, enough with the rambling and venting. All that is left to say is that I'm done playing nice, I've been done being way too damn patient for quite some time now, and that with the way my life is going, death will ultimately be an improvement to my life and welcome reprieve to me in general, so the sooner it shows up, the better.
And if you didn't like this post, just remember that nobody forced you to read this.

Lessons in Friendship (Part One)

As some of you might have guessed, this entry is about friendship. Hence the title. Anyway, the two main players of this episode are my oh-so-illustrious brother, and one of his "friends."
Here's the situation: This particular "friend" lives in Watertown. I'm not sure where it is located in the QCA, nor do I really care, but supposedly this guy bought a $350 bicycle, and decided to loan it to my brother. Now, the bike has been stolen, and this "friend" is threatening my brother and wants his money back.
First off, this guy is a complete moron for spending $350 on a bicycle that only looks like it's worth maybe $100 (I was told that he spray-painted it and that it is supposedly a "rare" bike), especially since he lives in a part of the QCA like Watertown (he does have a lock on his garage...like that's ever stopped anyone before). Secondly, if he really did spend $350 on a damn bike, which I still find hard to believe, he shouldn't have been so incredibly stupid and lent it to my brother. I wouldn't have lent such an expensive bike to my brother.
This incident gets me thinking that today's youth has no clue what actual friendship is. You should be able to trust your friends. You shouldn't abuse the title of "friend."
Have I lost things my friends have given me? Yes, but I've also told them that I lost them, and I still feel bad about those times (not as bad as I did in those exact moments though).
You should be able to eventually work through these issues with your friends, not threaten to beat them up and risk going to jail over them.
However, I'm also not surprised that this happened to my brother. My siblings have this knack for becoming friends with people who aren't really friends. Like with so many other people, their fear of being alone wins out over the instinct to protect themselves from abusive and shady people. I'm the opposite in that area. I'm so used to being a loner, and I've been stabbed in the back so many times, that I would much rather be alone than be a victim to other people. This doesn't mean that I never take risks, I'm just very cautious. I will say though that my sister has gotten a bit better at distancing herself from some of her "friends," so that is somewhat of a silver lining.
Some of you might be wondering why I am writing this stuff down. Well, my siblings don't necessarily get these lessons through their thick skulls, so instead of yelling at them, this is my way of venting. I am also hoping that maybe, by some stroke of randomness, someone will read this and take stock of his/her own life and be able to learn something from this (hopefully before it is too late). No, I don't think that I am better than you people. In fact, I am one of the first people to say that I'm not.
Just remember: Not all friends are bad friends, but not everyone who claims to be a friend is really a friend. Be aware of this without shutting yourself off from the world completely, and you should do just fine.

Lots of love,
Bettina

It's about time...

...that I write another post.
It's been over a year since my last post, so I am quite embarrassed and ashamed. I still haven't gotten around to typing up the posts I said I was going to type, but they also haven't been forgotten. Hopefully, they will be up on this blog before I die. Hopefully.
So, what's new in my life? I am a college graduate, without a job, without a social life, and without a significant other. Well, at least I've finally managed to graduate from college.
As much as I would like to type a longer post, considering that it is shortly after two in the morning, I might wind up mentioning stuff that I would not necessarily want to reveal at this time and in a less than clear state of mind. I usually prefer to be in a more sober state of mind to do some storytelling.

Well, I hope all is well with everyone.

Take care (as always)!

Something's been on my mind lately...

...and I guess I just want to kick this out in the open.


I'm kinda irked by people asking me why I take so much damn medication. The main reason this gets to me is because the question implies that I have a choice in the matter. Granted, I could always say "Screw it" and just stop taking medication, but then my body would probably kill me faster than it already is.


So, here is what I am taking and why:

1) Synthroid - My thyroid glands aren't working as quickly as they should be, and considering that pretty much all of the human body depends on these glands, I need to be on this for the rest of life. Unfortunately, my doctor doesn't want to get sued, so I am only given enough for my body to function on a minimally "normal" level.
2) Paxil - Ah yes, without this medication, I would be suffering from a nervous breakdown at least once a week. Paxil allows me to live a somewhat "normal" life without feeling the need to be overly self-destructive and, dare I say it, suicidal.
3) Yaz - Honestly, I'm not completely sure being on this medication is worth it. The pros are that I am not completely fatigued and in labor-worthy levels of pain during my period. The cons are that the pain actually gets spread out, so it doesn't really go away, and that I still get ovarian cysts (which also hurts). Other than that, I don't have sex anyways...so I constantly forget why I'm taking Yaz.
4) Ibuprofen - I can live with a tremendous amount of pain. In fact, I find pain to be quite motivating most of the time. However, when you feel like sticking a knife in the side of your face because the pain in your jaw joint and ear area is so damn great, which I've been told supposedly isn't an option, then you need to do something else about it. So, I take ibuprofen. Usually, I need about 600 mg to ease the pain, but sometimes I do need to take more.
5) Acetaminophen - I only take this for headaches, which have been cropping up a lot lately... For my average headache, I need about 1 g of acetaminophen, which I think is bordering on excessive, considering that the labels suggest taking only 400 mg. And let's not even talk about how much I had to take last night to make the pain go away (1.6 g).

As for other meds, I occasionally take Benadryl for the random allergic episodes I go through.

It may seem like a lot to some people, but I have my reasons for taking all of them (including Yaz). If everything went according to me, I would not be taking anything. I can't stand taking medication...and I have my reasons for that attitude as well, which I will not be getting into in this post.


I'm sorry if I have made anyone upset or uncomfortable writing about medications, but it's just been on my mind quite a bit for the past few days.

Anyway, I'm still catching up on a few things, so it might be a while until my next post. Something I am still working on is a smoking hot review of Rabbit Rue, which I promise will be posted before the end of the year. I know I'm really reaching for the stars with that deadline...

As always, ki o tsukete ne,
Bettina

Not much to say

At least for now, I won't be writing about much.
All I'm going to do is post a few music videos. Why? Well, I can't seem to get these songs out of my head, so I thought I'd share some of the fun. Honestly, at first I didn't want to like these songs, but I like more beat-driven music, and these songs are (I'll tell you in a later post why I initially didn't want to like them). Anyway, I'm sure that at least some of you will appreciate watching the women in these videos.
So, enjoy!

1) Girlicious - Like Me



2) Girlicious - Stupid Shit

It's been too long

Well, the last time I typed a post was shortly after the end of the fall semester and right before I fell into another massive black hole, provided by the depression of none other than Yours Truly. Thank you, I'm simply talented like that.
Sorry, Shaun baby, I still haven't typed up a review of Rabbit Rue, but I promise I will, and yes, it will still be posted this year.
I am just now starting to slowly come out of this depressive episode, so stay with me people.
What else is going on? I am currently on academic probation, which is mostly due to the fact that, after so many years of being depressed and being proud that hardly anyone knew because it hadn't effected my academic life, everything just went horribly wrong. I missed lots of classes, most professors have an attendance policy, exams are based largely on lectures, and therefore, I didn't get too many good grades.
Anyway, I'm working on tying up those loose ends now, which doesn't really help with the depression and anxiety, but it has to be done.
There are other things that need to be talked about, but I don't have enough energy to formulate those properly.
I just wanted everyone to know that I am still around, kinda.

Until next time...Curate!

No more school!

Yes, I have finally made it through the semester people. I've had more lows than ups, but I can always write about that at some other time. Nobody wants to read about my bitching. It really is no wonder that most people seem to think I'm emo... And yes, I actually did write the poem from my last post myself. See? I can write. I just usually think I suck at writing. Also, I didn't want Trifthen to think that I was copying him...

Why do I call him Trifthen on here anyway? I mean, he has posted comments before using his actual first name. Does it really matter? Sorry...I didn't mean to babble that much.

Well...since I've mentioned Trifthen...how many of you have read Rabbit Rue? I hope all of you have. I'm not going to type up a review on it quite yet. I'm going to save that for a time when I'm a little less tired here.

Right now, I'm just glad that I have some time to breath.

Anyway, here is another music video for everyone. I love the song, so hopefully, some of you will like it too. I don't know how good the sound quality is. I wasn't completely satisfied with it, but then again 1) I don't know if this is just my computer and 2) I like my music on the loud side.

Ja mata ne!!!