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Mandark [userpic]


September 6th, 2016 (10:50 pm)
Feelin:: lol

We eats the pills we're supposed to eats. Even if they make us sicks. We eats the prenatals, we eats the birth control, we take the hormone-blasts. Why? I dunno. I fear weight gain and mental lapses worse than I already have. Of no concern to the master. "I'll be there for you, no matter what." Didn't believe it, and in the end was right. Out on my ass yet again. None stop cycle of back and forth. Why do I do it to myself? I don't know. I guess I haven't figured out anything better. Plus, maybe there's a love factor-- but at this point I hate to admit it based on the actions. Sometimes,and mine you-- I haven't done this in a long time, but I used to build nests underneath my dad's table. Just by myself in my room. A little fort. I would hide that hard. Behind the deadbolt I've installed on my door, behind the blackened windows-- I would hide under a table in a fort. Do not mistake me for a mentally stable person. Because I'm not. I'm either a picture of perfect, an alcoholic mess or just a manic person hiding under a table. I'm the latter today. Why drink when I get to get all the fucking hormone blasts I don't need? BOOM. Just explode broken uterus, get it over with. He'll be done with me then. I'll pine and be weird, but I'll get over it. I got over Mathew. No I didn't, that's a lie. I never will. What's to be said of the last two years? Would I get over it? I don't know. Haven't got over the last six. It hurts all the time. I go to therapy and stupid fucker just wants to be regaled with my stories-- gives me literally no feedback or anything. Just listens to my stories. Yeah, must have been nice fucking shit to throw in the spank bank. I caught a few glimpses of love though-- like reflections in a wind-chime. I've been fortunate for that.

I've had a shitty attitude lately, I can place blame all over-- but it's just me. I sabotage everything. I wish I could just be normal and take everything like everyone else, but my whole life leading up to this point hasn't been normal and I'm an accumulation of my experiences. They've fucked me up. This isn't to say that's an excuse, it's to say I'm totally fucking weak.
My Dad would be so disappointed.

Seriously, he'd whoop my ass. Hardcore. Maybe that's part of my problem. But overall, I feel paralyzed-- like nothing I do is going anywhere; and when it starts to- I blow it up. I blow it up to save a fucking trip to ride the Jurassic Park ride. I do maintain that it is my life goal. If I can do that, if I can fight through this, then I can fucking accomplish anything. The only sad part is: it is no way advancing me in life. It never will. It's a dead end. I've fought for two years, I don't see why I take so much fucking abuse. I've proven to myself I can have better. YET, I still end up with this shit head who throws me out all the time for one reason or another. This time it was because A. I didn't think it was cool he let three huge drunk dudes into our house at midnight, one of which straight out groped me. He didn't notice because he was to busy showing off his guns to them and letting them pretend shoot them in our house. That's a big no-no for me. If you want a felony, that's on you. Don't fucking implicate me. Watch out for me. Protect me. Don't let monsters in the our house when I'm making dinner. B. Starting on this birthcontrol is making me excessively sick to my stomach-- use a fucking shirt when you smoke weed in the bathroom, or something, clean the vent-- fucking something. If I have to go pee, I don't want to gag on fucking inch thick pot smoke.
Is that too much to ask? In light of being promised fucking everything under the sun? I've gotten none of it, but I ask to be respected in the place I'm supposed to call home. I don't want the fucking dealer over ever single god damned night drunk as fuck and breaking our stuff. I don't want the fucking drunk neighbors over. Past ten-- I don't want anyone I didn't specifically ask over. I don't want it to be OK to ring the door bell 3,000 times when you're drunk at our house. Where the fuck IS that OK? Oh wait, when that doesn't work-- go bang on the windows. For what? Nada. Just to check on his fucking truck and collect god damned money. It's fucking annoying. Every fucking day this guy shows up. I caught him smoking pills in our bathroom. That wasn't enough, HE had to catch him again. And yet, he's still over. Why?! IT'S FREE FUCKING WEED. WTF. Sorry, but that means nothing to me. I don't do drugs. I have, but I just don't anymore. We're approaching thirty-- we can at least pretend to be adults. Go get a medical card if it's that important, you stupid fuck.
But I'm the selfish one. I'm the crazy one. I'm the weird one. Because I want a normal fucking life with a person I care about.

Mandark [userpic]

Boo-boo kitten.

June 21st, 2015 (04:24 am)

Left to my own devices I masturbating until cumming didn't even feel like cumming anymore. Happy Birthday to me. Although, in seriousness, I did miss this kind of depravity. This isn't to say my current sex life isn't great, but I got to just have a full on masturbating fest with no fear of interruption. Masturbation, to me, is more like a contest with myself. Particularly since my wrists have gone bad, it's like-- how many orgasms can I have for before my wrist literally stops working. To date, and yes, for the birthday trophy, I've managed 11. Not great, but you know, it is what is. Do not confuse this with porno-style fantasy. It's pure mechanical. What I do, I sometimes call "stresstubation", as it mainly something I do obsessively when I'm stressed for a general sense of relief. It's a farse, I know. But temporarily effective.

Virtually no real sexual feeling attached to it. It's like a brain douche.

Mandark [userpic]

(no subject)

April 2nd, 2015 (06:32 am)

I don't know what that other shit was. I wrote it a long time ago, when I was in Visalia. I've resolved to a different path. I think I'll call him a stranger forever, mostly because it's funny. Lots of a amazing adventures already. His cats make themselves at home on my lap. Cats. Yes. He has cats. What do you do when your heart is this full?

Mandark [userpic]

(no subject)

April 2nd, 2015 (06:28 am)

I am the master of my own destiny. I tend to repeat that to remind myself that all the stupid shit I get myself into is my fault. I'm drunk and it's not even noon. That's not regular for me (anymore). My husband has been admitted to a psych ward for a suicide attempt. He asked me to meet him at a park yesterday. I blew him off. This is what happens. I don't believe for a second it's legitimately my fault, but I can't help but take into consideration the possibility that I could have held him in his time of need. He took off on me, which is something I have to repeatedly remind myself of. Now at this stage, I'm fucking up a relationship I actually enjoy. Nom nom the drugs is where I'm at. being sent away at midnight with nothing, as per usual. When it all comes down to it--- it's Mathew's fault, but Eric is also the master of his own destiny. He kicked me out. One fucking drunk ass night, and I get kicked out. I guess it's better late than never for him to realize he can't deal with me. Muchos gracias codein, weed and booze.

Mandark [userpic]

Brain need stop hurting.

November 8th, 2014 (01:03 pm)

Still no mas focus. My ability to speak has been impaired for days. I'm not sure how to fix this.

I'm happy where I'm at, I think. Aside from the general discomfort. That comes with the territory. As I always say, it's not my first time at the rodeo.

I just watched a fly die. Seriously. Of natural causes. Just drop dead out of mid air. Uttered a fraction of a "zzz" then died. Whoa.

Seems like everything dies in California. Why the fuck do people sing about it all the time? Well, if it was about death I'd get that, but everyone sings about how fucking great it is or about the pollution. Never about the fact that there's fucking dead animals all over the San Joaquin Valley. Literally. Fucking everywhere.

Now it's gotten bizarre to the point I found a dead horse. What the fuck. Halter on and everything. Hidden up in an orchard.

There's to many orchards here.

I feel like I spent most of my life with people telling me it's great here, and I've never got it. Now I've given it a good honest try. Still no. Don't get it.
Arizona is the best place. In my opinion. I don't necessarily agree with our politics and I totally hate Phoenix; but overall-- it's a place of wonders. I think I can explain why.
I have a sense of control there.
I have a tendency to throw myself into situations where I have no control. I can take control, I just don't. This is another one of those situations. Unfortunately I have no idea whether the person I'm with realizes that. He probably does. Or at least part of him does.
I fucking hate having company for an extended time. Actually, I really just fucking hate not feeling like I live alone. If I'm gonna live with people, I wanna live with people that are never here. Not fucking here ALL the time.
Doesn't mean I don't want to stay in California.
However, my reasons for staying are......well, I dunno, confusing. But I like confusing don't I? I think I do. Well, no. it's chaos. I must. Because that's what follows me. Scratch that. That's what I thrive on. I think. I must. Thriving on chaos.

I go through these phases sometimes where I think I can be normal, but it hasn't fully come to fruition yet. It just sort of floats in and out.

Head still hurts from accident. It's all kinds of not good. Can go to Doctors. Just haven't. I haven't decide how much I care yet.

Confusing? Chaos? all the same.

I'm just causing problems.

I need to be independently wealthy and just be a hermit.

I also need a bath. or a shower. whichever. Where the fuck is Robert Downey Jr. when you need him?

Mandark [userpic]

(no subject)

November 6th, 2014 (04:11 pm)

NO MORE HEAD INJURIES. No more drugs............other than Zoloft. I smell like a bar. For sure. Which is really uncomfortable when you're at a house with people you don't know that well. I'm grateful. For sure. But I'm even paranoid to take a shower. Not because of the people I live with, but because I'm totally unsure when anythings OK, where things go, how to behave, etc. I'm to used to people being mad at me. It's more damaging than I thought it was. Also, when I'm not damaging-- I make a way to be so. Sabotage. How do I not sabotage things? Don't move or speak I think. I don't fucking know.

I'm in a toss up between being me and not fucking things up for myself. I will attest to that being me isn't necessarily great. It can be, but for the most part I'm shit magnet. How do you abandon the person you love most? By this, I mean me. I love me. Don't wanna let me go, I just want things to not be so fucking complicated. I also rarely want to move. I just want to curl up in a ball or stare at the floor. LIKE A BADASS.

No seriously, it's totally not badass.

I was supposed to be in Tucson by now. I'm not. Boyfriend's friend is coming over. I just want to be alone. But generally that is the case with me.

I don't want to feel like I gave someone the wrong impression of me. I mean. I showed him me. I just am not the best me right now. I'm a shitty me. I'm a scared me.

Mandark [userpic]

Notes to self.

November 6th, 2014 (03:32 pm)

Hey Manda. Everything's going to be fine. You just gotta buck up and deal with it. Also, find a way to get Robert Downey Jr. to bath you. Also stop smoking and stop drinking. You've said that a lot but now you have the opportunity to do it and you're still not. Stop questioning yourself.
Most importantly--- stop whacking the shit out of your head. Eventually it's not going to be fine.

I act like I'm waking myself up to this but I already know all of this. I just don't have the mental fortitude to do it.

Mandark [userpic]

Don't want to explain the whole story right now.....

October 29th, 2014 (09:22 pm)

Was left in Visalia, California with no family, friends or anything. Some how have pulled my ass up by my boot-straps again in a matter of a coupe of days. Got kicked out of my house, but managed to find a new place to live, found a job and have figured shit out. Not to toot my own horn but I'm a god damned survivor. Will explain further later, as to my recent circumstances--- which I'll admit, really suck. Thank god for the few good people in the world. For Realz.

Mandark [userpic]

Added notes on "not bitching about" and "tripping balls" in Visalia, California

September 12th, 2014 (10:23 pm)

current location: Visalia, California
Feelin:: exhausted
Sounds:: Space Ghost Coast to Coast

Can't take next antibiotic for another four hours. I have to take them every twelve. At least I have an alarm. This icki-ness is a nightmare and a blessing. I have to reassess things, plus-- I get to trip the fuck out while I do it. I feel sorry for Mathew though, as he has to put up with my crazy-ass. Trying to keep it together though. I guess that's why I decided to restart my LiveJournal. Although, as Dave said-- I never really left. It was more like a hiatus. Over and over. I spend more time writing in my actual journals. Probably too much time. There you can draw though. I can only post pictures of my drawings here-- I don't have the confidence or where-with-all to do it right now.
One time I was living in a tiny efficiency apartment. I had a farce of a swamp-cooler, an airplane sink, and a toilet. That was it. That's a lie. I had a giant shower as the entire fourplex was separated weird from a two bedroom house. I got the master bathroom. My good friend was a larger individual......he got the main kitchen, but the tiniest bathroom. He had to go into it sideways. Any way, this is all beside the point....the point is-- I loved my tiny apartment. I painted all the walls, I painted the trim, I made it my own. I read poetry on the CB radio.

Mandark [userpic]

This is me not bitching about Visalia.....

September 12th, 2014 (09:48 pm)

current location: Visalia, California
Feelin:: cynical
Sounds:: Goldberg Variations

Antibiotics+fever== world's best drugs. Or at least I think so, I suppose they're not supposed to be. Watching 'You're the worst'........kind of questioning a lot of things in my life. I hate seeing a person I can relate to on TV. Why? Well, because I despise the fact that I haven't owned it on my own. OK, scratch that--- I have. I've owned being me. I shouldn't feel the need to relate myself to any sort of television character; but maybe my lack of self-esteem gives forth to that. At the same time, it's still my choice. Granted, it's not always my choice how I feel about myself, but I can put forth the effort to feel better about me.
Going to a therapist.
Wondering how I could pull off the jobs I've had..... being a business owner, someone in training to be sommelier, set designer, photographer, newspaper employee, ranch hand....to name a few.
Maybe that just says that I can't commit to a job. Now I just want to work for Toys'R'Us. Why? 'Cause I love toys.
Oh wait....why do I love toys? I refuse to grow up, that's why.
Sometimes I wonder if I've lost brain-cells, although I really don't think I have. I just think I'm at a total loss......
It's almost like I've been buried for 6 years. I wish I could give it a legitimate explanation, but I can't. There's no excuse for it.

At the same time- I also just want to write a blog about the beginning to end of Law and Order SVU. So there's my goals. No surprise there.

Also, My husband and I have been working on a youtube series doing commentary on Project Runway. Who the fuck does that shit?

People who dont give a fuck. I guess.

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