A Life Eclipsed

A Rare Mushy Moment

Sat, 26 Jan 2008 05:29:25 GMT

These kinds of posts will be rare I promise.

I really love my girlfriend. I think it's aparent from this journal that it takes a very special kind of person to handle someone like me. Yet she does. I'm so used to playing games, manipulation and lies. I've never been in a relationship this fucking healthy before. It's been a year and a half and we've never had an argument. Me. Not argue. It isn't about just one person collapsing under the weight of the other either. We're able to work things out like and this is the scary part like two people who have their emotional shit together. Is it strange that, that scares me?

Anyway. A mere conversation has given me a rare state of euphoria. It could be my meds but I think I'd like to believe it's her.

Who Wants To Earn Their Red Wings?

Fri, 25 Jan 2008 20:29:54 GMT

Periods suck. Actually they create a lack of sucking but anyway...... Every time I'm just emotionally bleh and cramping I seriously contemplate becoming a transman. I'm not trying to belittle that choice I respect Trans people but.......THIS HURTS DAMMIT!

Maybe I Should Lay Off The Self Loathing?

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 20:30:36 GMT

Misty called me last night. It's the first time I had talked to her since the summer. I was getting the impresion that the lack of communciation with my old Uni friends was due to more than extremly busy scheduals. Now though, I think it may just be me and my self loathing. I don't have a lot of drama in my life outside the occasionally freak out by my bi-polar, under medicated, stressed to the max, ocd, control freak of a mother. I've fallen off the beaten path but have wandered back onto it but really in retrospect compared to boyfriend hopping, lying, cheating, gossiping and all the other annoying things college students tend to do, my problems seem a lot less stressful to hear about. Finding this out totally made my week when Misty said to me: "Shelley! I'm here with Amy and Jon and Mike and we're gonna watch movies tonight and when I said to them 'Look all the drama free people are here!' Amy turned to me and said: 'But Shelley's not here!' so I had to call you and invite you!"

So to hear that from the gal I had a crush on and my ex-dorm mate was wonderful. I tend to be rather childish in thinking that I'm always the problem when people move away from me but really these two are RAs with full class loads and other jobs to boot. I really shouldn't be that surprised I rarely get to hang out with them when they rarely get to hang out with each other in the first place. It was just nice to be thought of, to be called and to be considered drama free when I've been so immersed in my bull shit lately. We're hanging out this Sat night and I can't wait. I'll do the Shelley dance for Amy and try to cop a feel of Mistys boobs. Just like old times. Misty requested that I should bring my light sabre dildo. I think the queerness pills I have her may be taking effect.....muhahahhahahaha. Not like it matters now though. She could get totally naked in front of me and it wouldn't matter. Damn the fact I don't cheat. Damn it all to hell.

Which brings me to a funny point about myself. I have no quams killing people but cheating really bugs me. Guess I'm just a homecidal romantic at heart.

Lady Luck Gave Me Head Today

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 04:06:46 GMT

Total ammount spent on text books this semester: six dollars.

Yes I came. I came hard.

The Joys of Living

Sun, 13 Jan 2008 07:52:26 GMT

I'm 23 yrs old and my mother is limmiting my internet time. How outstandingly pathetic. Well atleast I'm aware of it. I think it's worse when people don't realize in what ways they are pathetic. Everyone knows what they are good at or how they are unique (if they say they don't they're lying fucktards) but most people are oblivious to their most important traits. Their pathetic ones. There's an overabundance of niceness in American society. This cultivates a facade instead of a realistic outlook of ones self. A prime example of this are the American (shithead) Idol auditions. How many deluded morons parade themselves in front of a country that's too nice to keep them from humiliating themselves? Hundreds? Thousands? The faveorite excuse for their patheticness (yes that's the word of the entry I'm too lazy to go thusaurus.com) is that their friends and family told them that they could sing. Their friends and family are just being nice without being nice at all. The right thing and ultimately the nice thing to do would be to keep your friend or loved one from making an ass of themself. Telling the truth is hard though and it may make your friend angry or sad oh my. When is friendship only about feeling good? Friends are suposed to tell you when you suck so you don't go out and make yourself suck more. It's hard to be a good friend and the 20,000 douche bags that camp out to humilate themselves need new friends who will tell them that they are thinking to much of their abilities and to persue something they can actually do. However, there are the select few who are so lost in a fantastical vision of their self that no amount of warning from loved ones will deturr them from their condeluded dreams.

Now I'm not talking about the jerk offs who know damn well they can't sing and just want their 15 secs of fame. I'm talking about the people who should just kill themselves. Those who really think they can sing when they really sound like my ass after a mexi melt binge. Their tear soaked faces after they're bitch slapped by the judges make me sympathic to Harris and Klebolds vision of American youth. They're too far gone and unfortunately one of these sad indivisuals is an old High School aqutance of mine. I would like to think that once upon a time he was sane. I'm not so sure any more if that was the case. I think he is a casualtiy of unchecked depression. He spends more money on mastering his albums, getting them made, having photo shoots and shooting videos then moving out of his mothers house. He can't sing a lick or dance. When he proforms he has the audiance laughing and cheering because they think he's a comedy act. Oh don't let the shoots and videos etc sound glamorous. He's not signed and does all of his albums right out of his bedroom using outdating equipment and a mac he went 2k into debt for. Just a side note, he only got it for the garageband software. His photographer is an ex-gf of mine and his videographer her current gf. They don't even do it for free either.

The end product always looks and sounds like shit. Once it looked like his hobby was turning into something unhealthy I withdrew my support. We barely talk anymore. Suprise suprise. I tried talking to him again just to find out he's died his hair and eyebrows blonde. Actually, that aforementioned ex who stirs his delirum dyed it for him. My deluded friend is built like Ron Jermey (the old one) minus the cock size and is about as hairy as him too. He could pull it off though with a sort of robust swarthyness. Now he just looks like a freak with orange hair. I tell him the truth about how he looks, asked him if he dyed his arm, chest, back, ass and pubic hair blond too and end up with the pleasure of reading a blog entry about how much he likes his new look and how people shouldn't judge him. You're not being judged you're being ripped from your fantasy world where you're the next Britney Spears.

I love the kid like a brother. I'm sure someone feels the same about atleast one of the American Idol rejects. But how do you make them listen when they're drowning in niceness?

I don't know. All I can do is watch the months go buy with out a call or the birth days go buy with out a present and wonder if I'm really being too harsh for busting his dream. I just don't know how I can support a friend who persues an empty dream.

I have to give him credit for atleast having a dream and the guts to try and persue it even if ends in total self destruction because hes moving. I however am standing completly still. No dreams spurr my soul into action. I have no idea who I am or what I want. Just vague ideas of what I might want but how do you build a life around that?

So I join the masses as I look for a new steady job to pay back my debt. A slave in a white collar with no illusons about it. Maybe if I could delude myself I could be a happy little hamster in its' wheel running for it's owner without a mind. Or I could live in reality. It's hard. I'm starting to understand my friends pop star dream more and more as I realize that my 8 hr days online were my delusion.

As much as I hate to say it. Thanks Mom for waking me the fuck up. G my friend I tried to do the same with you. Where's my thank you?

First post blahs

Tue, 01 Jan 2008 06:29:14 GMT

I have no idea what to write here. It's a feeling I've come accustomed to. I either don't know what to write or know what to do so in both situations my answer is normally a big impressive nothing. That pretty much sums up the whole of 2007. It's amazing how in one year you can totally erase all the progress you've made with the last five years of your life.

The saddest no, the most pathetic part about all this is that I can't say I went on some crazy binge. I didn't kill anyone. I haven't been running from the law. I didn't find my self in my india or go on some self searching quest were I do something idiotic like walk across the country. I stayed home or I stayed asleep. No great novels stem from that. I guess it started with going to a school I didn't like then snow balled as I discovered the major I thought I had wanted for the previous six years turned out to be utter bullshit. The hilarious part is the classes were easy. I had gotten As in tougher coarses. 110 bio *shivers* As an ex-English Ed major (with terrible grammar), the majority of my classes only required what I do best.: to read something then bullshit about it. Once upon a time, I could pump out a ten page paper including "reading" the novel, finding the resources and the citation in eight hours the night before it was do. Then it all just stopped. An easy vocab test reminicent of the second grade became an impassible obsticle in my life. So I just didn't wake up to go to class. First it was one class then it was all of them. All the while, I kept deluding myself that I could get my grades up to B's and C's once I got over what ever was keeping me curled up on the futon in my dorm room. Ofcoarse this continued until the morning of finals and lets just say it was the first time in my life I ever had under a C in a class. I failed them all. For no other reason then I couldn't get out of my dorm room. I think I only opened my eyes to eat or to go out with mothering friends just to fake being ok. By the end of the semester I didn't even bother. I don't even talk to them anymore.

Sixteen great friends have been narrowed down to an awe inspiring two. Though I cut out a lot of drama in the process. It still kind of sucks though when I actually want to get out of the house and the options are so limited. Friends and school aren't the only things I've cut out of my life. God is another but recent cut. I had been struggling with my polytheistic belief system for several years now and just this month finally came out as an athiest. Really, its indicative of what I've been going through. Not in the way one may think though. I've shed myself of all the false people, silly dreams and empty pursuits. It only makes sense that I would remove all frivalous beliefs from my life as well.

After whittling my life down to it's marrow, I feel surprisingly empowered. Yes I'll be a super senior, yes I'm now way behind my graduating class, yes I'm still living at home but I'm free. Completly free. I'm not bogged down by anything but my job but that's forgivable. Now when I start school again it's with a clean slate. Well so to speak. My GPA may be fucked but I refuse to define my worth to the world with an arbituary number.

There's a darker self imposed enemy than the empty shell I let my life become before shedding it. It's the very way I think and feel. All of the things abussive ex-gfs, manipulating friends, and negative experiances of my past stalk the edges of every new experiance. Now when I get angry I don't know if I'm getting angry over the current situation or the fact my ex-fiancee used to hit and strangle me and I never worked up the corrage to punch her lights out. I don't know if the people around me are really trying to make me feel small or if I'm making myself feel small by having the same reaction I did as a child whenever my mom would beat me with a hanger because I didn't fold the towels correctly. I also don't know if the people I know now are truely leaving me behind or if I'm just reminded of the day my father left, I turned to my mom and in the way only a toddler can describe I said "Da da all gone".

I'm trying to cut the strings so I'm not some deformed marionette that dances through life to the tune of it's past. I don't want my current being robbed by my past. When it is, I don't want the move. There's nothing new in the past. There's nothing to look forward two when you live in a constant rewind.

So fuck it. But oh, if only it were so easy. It's so difficult to change the very way you think, the way you feel and the way you act to a given situation. Just today I had lunch with my mother at a local diner and I saw my old coach there. I made eye contact but there was no reconition there on my coaches part. No smile. No wave even though once upon a time we had worked so closely together, coach and captain, to hold a team in transition together. How many hours after school were spent disscussing camps? Plays? Players? How many times had my shoulder been tapped to make something happen and yet not a wave. I nearly swooned, my heart beat trippled and all I wanted to do was get in my seat and stare at the salt shakers. I had to shake back tears. Fucking tears! Had I really changed that much? Gained that much weight?

But what did it matter? Why would I let some half bit green coach of my past ruin lunch with my mother? It took a full twenty minutes but I was able to let it go. The vice that had become my chest loosened, my heart took five and I was able to just enjoy one of the few peaceful opertunities I get to have with my mother. The food was fucking great too and tasted all the better once I was able to not let the past ruin my present. I had almost run to the car less strangers see me cry or I do something as pathetic as break out in tears in the middle of a diner over a fucking memory.

A fucking memory. How can I build a future if crippled by my past? So fuck it. To quote the great George Carlin: "Fuck it in the ass with a big rubber dick"!

Memories take such a sudden hold of me though. How quickly the chest can tighten and tears can come. Sometimes I don't even know why.

So I'm workthing through my shit and I can't wait to be helped by gods, for dreams to just become fullfilled or to persue a meaningless career for no other reason then I don't know what to do otherwise.

I have no idea what to do with my life. I just know what not to do. It's a start.