Read the Printed Word

Read the Printed Word!



You Make Crazy Fun

You Make Crazy Fun

Friday, February 5, 2016

Want To Play A Game?

What if: a question that asks someone to imagine what might happen or what might have happened.

I often play the "what if?"game. I like the torture, and I hate my life.

I will enter into a fantasy realm I have created. The "what if?" game starts, within this realm. I create a character I believe I should've been. Smart. Beautiful. Talented. All the things I am not. This character is well respected, and loved by many. Something, I have never experienced.

What if I had never listened too my mother?
What if I had never continued on with athletics?
What if I has stood up too my mother, and told her I needed therapy?
What if I had told my mother about the sexual abuse?
What if I was allowed to become what I wanted, at a young age?
What if I followed my creative side, and not the side everyone else wanted for me?
What if I had grown a backbone?
What if I wasn't poor?
What if my parents did not get divorced?

The characters I create never have to play the "what if?" game. They made the right choices. I still give my characters flaws, but these flaws made them stronger. These flaws made and make them determined to fight. Once again; everything I am not.

Writing, and daydreaming are where I feel, at home. I am home when I write my short stories, fan fiction, and even these blogs. For the moment, I am writing; I am not playing the "what if?" game. I am lost, in the worlds I have created. I stay lost, in these worlds. I have blurred the lines, and I am fine, with the idea.

I stay, at home, because the real world is not a place I want to frequent. I enjoy my fantasy world. I enjoy the worlds I create. The real world is ugly and full of "what if's?". My worlds are full of beauty, creativity, and even heartache. I cannot prevent my own hurt from bleeding through, into my created worlds. Isn't all of the pain, hurt, and loss the reason why some writers are so goddamn good? 

I am not going to stop playing the "what if?" game. This game helps me cope, and I don't give a fuck if any person says I am delusional. Want to know a little secret?...I am delusional, and I couldn't be better.

No More

No more: Nothing further

There are times when I say "no more." We all have said "no more." I either say "no more" when I have nothing more to say. I say "no more" on a more frequent basis when I have had enough. I will not go any further, and I have nothing further too offer.

I limit my interactions, with either people I encounter, or people out in the Interverse. The plague of locusts has only become worse, over the years. I don't see the Interverse clearing of these locusts. The Interverse is safe, for the most part. I have written about this time and time again; the Interverse is for individuals to fake their way through life. Enough about that subject.

I have nothing further to give these locusts. I have attempted to understand, but all I have gotten is one big fucking headache. I am not sorry when I say their puny little minds couldn't be wrapped around a piece of lettuce. I am not going to waste my precious time engaging. I have better things to do; like bitch about them on my blog. I need to release this pressure somewhere, and what a better place than a blog no one reads. I feel like I can get away with anything, and I often do. 

I say "no more" to encounters, with real breathing people. I will not be surrounded by individuals who can't keep their egos, opinions, and rudeness, in check. I will endure this type of behavior, but I will end up saying something to bring these people back down to Mother Earth. Did I mention I am not a nice person? I have social anxiety. I don't like to be around people, and I am not going to waste my time being around people who are a big bag of dicks. 

I have enough issues, to bull my way through. Petty shit is not my cup of tea. I do fine the petty shit to be entertaining on a surface level, because I can't believe people will become upset over another person's opinion, or belief structure. Or, the same people will make a mountain out of a fucking molehill. My eyebrows can't be raised any higher, and my eyes can't get any wider.

I feel some kind of relief by not giving a fuck, and saying I will not put up with this shit. I declare "no more."

Monday, February 1, 2016

There Is No Cure

Treatment: The manner in which someone behaves toward, or deals with someone or something else.

Do not do unto others as you expect they should do unto you. Their tastes may not be the same.-George Bernard Shaw

Interesting quote. There should be no expectations, of another human being. Human beings will react how they see fit. I have control of how I respond towards any human being.

The advent of the Interverse has brought upon me a plethora of; you know I will not call these people human beings, because these people are not human being too me. They are mutant monkeys(thank you Omnia for coining that phrase). 

I am sure every single one of my readers has encountered such monkeys. I was naive, when I came upon the Interverse, back in 1999(I started going into chat rooms at this time, but before this time I used the Interverse for research and the like). I know. I was a late bloomer, but I lived in an area where progress was slow as a constipated dog. 

First, mistake I made was going into chat rooms. At this time, I was going through some major shit, and all I wanted to do is escape. What a better why to escape, but through the Interverse. I could become anybody I wanted, and I often did. 

Second, mistake was meeting any person out of the Interverse. I should have known better, but I can't change who I met, and what happened. I was lonely, insecure, and I wanted attention. How I received this attention did not matter too me. Good. Bad. Indifferent. I was lacking something, and the Interverse gave this something too me.

Third, mistake was getting involved, with Second Life(I am sure all of you know what a cluster fuck this online "game" was all about). I came across Second Life, in its second year of operation. Another big mistake, but once again real life sucked balls. I needed an outlet. I needed attention. I needed a distraction.

I played Second Life, for about two years. All the shit that happened. All of the scuzzy people I met. Second Life was not worth my time, but I gave so much of my time. I would lock myself, in my room, and not come out for up too twelve hours. This is what happens, too me, when I don't want to deal with life. I distract myself.

So, where the fuck am I going with this? MySpace(when it was in existence), Facebook, PaganSpace, Google+, and many other social networks almost turned into a distraction. I was getting caught up, with the bullshit of MySpace and PaganSpace. Then the light clicked, and I was banned from MySpace. I limit my exposure on PaganSpace. Facebook, and Google+ are used, to post my blogs, and other writings. I also use Facebook messenger to communicate, with my friends(not having cell service kind of sucks). 

This is where I am going, with my thoughts. The Interverse is full of people who use the monitor, and keyboard to display a fake persona. We all know this, and some of use can see through the bullshit. While, others are easily sucked into the stories these type of people tell. 

I do not care about how a person exhibits themselves, in the Interverse. That shit is on them. Not me. I don't get upset when a piece of shit decides, to rant and rave, on their page, about how life is not fair. What I do give a shit about is when a person will randomly attempt to harm another person(even if they do not know the other person). That shit is a no go area. A big buckets of nopes.

I will say my piece, and move on my merry little way. I do not engage, but laugh when I piss off a person. I am not an Interverse warrior. I am just one of billions of people who use this platform, to convey thoughts, feelings, and ideas. I am not special, and I am not unique. But, I know how to treat people, with respect, or disrespect. The choice is left, in the hands, of the person, I am conversing with. 

People do behave differently, in the Interverse. False bravado. This is me. The mask comes off, and I no longer give a shit.

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Show Me,On This Doll, Where He Or She Touched You

Violation: the action of violating someone or something
Violate: fail to respect; treat something sacred with irreverence or disrespect; break or fail to comply

Does this color violate your eyes? If it does; I don't care, because I enjoy violating whiny bitches. Complain about a font color, or font type; you have entered into the world of a whiny little bitch.

Definitions of words get lost. I attempt to call out too the definition, and play Marco Polo, with the definition. Often, I am able to relocate the definition. But, sometimes the definition is forever lost. What the fuck am I talking about? Social networks folks. Facebook. Twitter. Tumblr. And anywhere else people can spout on and on about how violated they are that day.

I am disappointed. No. Scratch that. I am apathetic, and I just don't give a shit about this new way of thinking. I don't give a shit about the shit generation who are nothing but a bunch of cunt cakes. Doesn't surprise me this, cunt cake generation, would whine about being "violated." All because some person disagreed with them, in an online discussion. Wow. This is where the world has gone.

Since, these little cunt cakes know so much more than I(because they are college educated in women's studies, and philosophy); they can tell me they have been violated. Don't give me any back story about the how, the when, or the why. Just "I've been violated!" This phrase has become the new rape cry. Cry wolf enough times, and no one is gonna believe your mother fucking ass. Also, these crying cunt cakes make reporting a legitimate violation difficult. The police can only handle so many phony complaints. 

Examples of legitimate violations:

*Sexual(unwanted touch, or penetration...this goes for you girls can be sexually violated). Sexual words are not a violation. These words may be uncomfortable, but unless they lead to an unwanted touch then walk the fuck away from the fuck stick saying the words. Cat calls are not a violation. Once again uncomfortable, but keep walking bitch.

*Physical(this means pushing, striking, spitting, slapping, kicking, or just being a cunt all around....once again can be held accountable for your actions...even when the majority of you aren't).

*Just plain ole disrespect(verbally assaulting someone, silencing another person, giving someone "the hand," talking, or chanting over another person...the youngen girls have a horrible habit of doing these message is not being received, and it has been returned to sender).

I am sure there are more examples of legitimate violations, but these are the ones that come to my simple little mind.

If I hate you; not a violation. I just don't like you, and I will ignore you. Piece of advice; if I don't like you don't poke the dragon. Unless you have chocolate then all is forgiven.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

Boxes and Stuff and Things

Definition: a statement of the exact meaning of a word, especially in the dictionary

The definition of definition all wrapped up, in a tidy little box, with a pretty pastel blue bow on top. Okay. Time for me to blow this up.

Any person's definition is subjective. If I say the definition of word X is Y; the next person may say the definition of word X is W. Are either of our definitions wrong? I don't think so. Words are in a constant state of flux. The original meanings of words have been long forgotten. None of us remember the word fag meaning a cigarette. In fact, some Brits still use this word. But, the word fag has turned into a derogatory word for a homosexual. Word definitions change, and we need to except the fact word definitions change. A better way of putting this is word definitions morph into another meaning. The word fag still means cigarette, in Britain, but fag also has the other meaning.

I don't like boxes. I was once told there are no boxes, and I shouldn't live my life like I am, in a box. Sound advice, and now I don't live, in a box. What is the point of me mentioning boxes? Keep reading.

I am having a hard time not defining myself, because in order for the ignorant society I live in to grasp any idea of what mental illness means; I have to make the definition of mental illness my own. I become the interpretation of the definition, and I am not digging the idea of morphing into any definition, or box. Is this necessary? At this moment, yes. Adhering too a definition is supposed to help me. I am not feeling the help, but patience right? 

Somewhere, buried deep, in my brain matter I think I understand defining myself as a person who has severe mental issues is something that will become private(once this living hell of paperwork is done, and I receive the benefits due too me).

I burned many boxes, years ago. I am not going to live my life being defined by anyone. I am not going to allow myself to define me. In time, I am gonna have to accept the definition and burn it too the ground.