My birthday is in two days.
Gifts of luv, money, new life, geeky men can be sent here.
i had just finished the tome I Know This Much Is True by Wally Lamb. what else can you say about a 900 page tome about twins, incest, drugs, AIDS, SIDS and other fun stuff?
the ending was tied too neatly and everything fell into place.
all i wanted to do was give someone a hug, and i had no one to do so.
i’ve been thinking about death recently. and life. i can’t help not thinking about. i’ve been obsessed with the thought of death since i was a wee tot and had seen this television show on cryogenics. i laid awake in fear, thinking that someone was going to put me in a big freezer and never let me out.
would explain where the insomnia came into it place.
i spent hours tonight talking to cartoon boy. and most of it just me talking with him listening. i appreciated that. because in all honesty, no one, in a long time has ever really asked me about stuff in general. about me. questions have arrived, looking for answers, about why i do this site? there are no real answers or any that i can think of. but the context always begs “what will she say and what won’t she say?”. and i find that i don’t dwell on anything in particular and i find that i don’t speak of any particular subject. however, it just is. it’s something and it’s nothing.
when i think about love lately, i think about why people fall in love. is it mutual attraction? loneliness? what?
i spoke to my friend sherry yesterday to wish her a happy 26th birthday. 10 years we have known each other — amazing. she’s living with ben now – finding that hard to believe. i told her that we have swapped roles — she’s now settling down while I’m jet setting around. she laughed and said that i never expected this from her did i? no, i knew it was coming. i never told her that. and now it’s true. all my friends are either married with children, married or just have children. I’m truly the last one left. we’d joke, shelly and i about sherry — about how she would never settle down. and now she has.
when mike and i talk about relationships, i always go back to Alan and how he broke my heart when i was 21. and it seems, talking with mike more, that the relationships in between then and now were not as important or as life changing. every person you meet changes you, in some way or another, but there are some who alter your life drastically. and Alan did that to me.
I’m not saying that those relationships since then were indifferent, they weren’t. what i am saying is that when you fall in love for the first time in your life, it changes everything.
as i have said before, mike is the type of person i would date in a heartbeat if it were so. but there is 2000 miles of dirt between us that cannot just be upped and gone. (is that even proper English?) the funny thing is, i gave up on irc relationships years ago — and i find myself into another one. is he my bf? no. but is he just a friend? no. then what the fuck is he? i dunno. he’s a keen guy. i likes him a lot. he’s’ tall, funny, southern, smart, likes the same music and movies (!) (dude, he knows of greg dulli — you cannot go wrong here) plus he’s creative. I’ll whip his ass in trivial pursuit. you know it. BRING IT!
the problem is, in the past, i have gone places for the sake of love, knowing it wasn’t going to work out. but i gave it that old heave ho try to MAKE SURE cos i didn’t want to leave a stone unturned. and my heart always got broken. in some aspect anyway.
this saturday i will be 27 and 30 is looming right ahead. i am frightened by different things and doing the whole dating dance scares me. there is no rhyme or reason why I’m not out and about with my friends here in SF — but partly the reason i have for hesitance is because SF has tainted itself and I don’t see it as being the city of dreams i thought so many years ago. however, i grew up a lot our here — and maybe some of the choices i make in the future won’t be so damn retarded. sure.
i would like to meet mike.
i told him so early this evening in our conversation. but i find now that i have been left alone to my own mind, that my hesitation grows long and weary. there are no warning signals indicating he’s a freak. i am not tied to anything or anyone in any particular place. i have no fears here or there that would keep me rooted to SF or forbidding me from flying to Graceland to meet a k-rad guy.
the only thing i fear
is falling in love.
Author: pookiebear
home is where the heart is
My birthday is in four days.
Gifts of luv, money, new life, geeky men can be sent here.
home is where the heart is
My friend Jenni from back home, sent me an email with this in it:
you need to come home before it goes…….
for old time sake, we could have a sleep over and I can snap your bra into the ceiling fan.
My mother, it seems is going through the toughest parts of her life. My step-father Robert is finally filing for divorce after being married for nearly 8 years (they have only lived together for aproximently 2 of those 8 years) and my mother has decided to file for bankruptcy. Along the lines of bankruptcy, she’s giving up the house on Paris Ave in Grand Rapids along with all the furniture inside of it.
Danny is making arrangements to have my mothers four poster cherrywood bed, cherry wood desk, my grandmothers rocking chair and the living room couch put in storage for me.
my brother Jeff got accepted to Bradley University, my mother is moving into a mansion outside of Grand Rapids with friends and I’m in SF. Any resemblance of family is now gone.
I remember back in early days, when I was a child growing up in Port Huron, MI, the big family get togethers held for every holiday. My mother is the oldest of seven children, I’m the third oldest grandchild. Now, everything is gone. My older cousins are married with kids of their own. My younger cousins Kevin, Shelly, Chris, and Paul are god knows where. My aunts are all retreated into some sort of weird lifestyle that makes them forever unmarriageable (three of my mothers sisters never did get married and all hang out together in some sort of weird lesbianism way. but they aren’t lesbians. maybe just crotchety old aunts?). My grandmother died in 1972, my grandfather passed away in 1996. My fathers side I have never had any contact with to begin with – and my father is now 72 and holed up in a nursing home in Toronto.
I am, completely alone.
And it’s been coming for years. When my mother in 1985 got the killer job offer in Grand Rapids and moved our little family of three there, all the family get togethers died. Even living just 2.25 hours away from them, I never saw them for months if not years at a time. The last time I made any effort to see my family was back in 1996 when my grandfather passed away, and I stood like an outsider at my grandfathers funeral. I knew nothing of these people anymore. My older cousins Doug and Denise who used to torture me when i was a kid had nothing to say to me. My younger cousins Kevin and Shelly were grown up — and I stood there feeling lonely than ever because I never had what I have always dreamed about: family. And I remember crying on my way back to my apartment that I shared with Danny then, because I had nothing. My relationship with my mother had been lukewarm at best, my father I never lived with save one year when I went to school in toronto, and my cousins never made an effort to contact me.
I remember sitting at my computer the day after I got back from his funeral, drinking down a fifth of absolute and paging my brother to get a bag of pot so that I didn’t have to think. No one could quite understand what was wrong with me. I never drank at home and Lisa buy pot? Oh yeah right — hell must have frozen over. I drove to the funeral on Christmas Eve, came back the day after Christmas and drunk myself into a stupor between the 26th and New Years Day.
Many people don’t understand why I feel so damn down about this — primarily because I’ve always regarded myself as an orphan in all aspects. My mother even said it herself that when I moved to SF that I had cut off all ties to family and never called, wrote or even came home. I tried going back home and making things right last Christmas, but things between me and my mom never changed and while I was happy to be back at my old stomping grounds I found that nothing was the same — and that any life for me in GR was over. I tried telling myself that I wanted to go back — and I still do — but it’s not the same. Everything has changed and I am no longer that scared little girl any more that used to sit in her bedroom crying anymore.
it’s several hours since i wrote the above, and I’m at work now. i hate when i break up a chronicle like this: writing half at home and the other half somewhere else. i lose my train of thought — and the somberness i had earlier this morning isn’t as prevalent as it is now. A good shower, shaving my legs, lots of cawfee, talking to cartoon boy, I can’t feel depressed right now.
But then again, maybe i don’t want to think about it.
it always ends up this way.
the pill vs the springhill mining disaster
My birthday is in five days.
Gifts of luv, money, new life, geeky men can be sent here.
the pill vs the springhill mining disaster
every day my roommate and i have a fight.
i get up, rinse my mouth with plax, plop my contacts in. once my vision is crystal, the first thing i always notice is the case that she keeps her diaphragm in and her damn spermicide. it sits there, so innocent on top of the shelf above the sink. and every day i get this revolting feeling in my stomach. i try not to let it get to me — i mean it’s not like her diaphragm is staring me in the face, winking at me, reminding me that I’m alone. but it’s just the class of the whole idea. i mean, it’s tacky for godsakes. i mean it’s bad enough that no one will go and fix the cracked toilet seat. Cathleens idea was to use duct tape around it the crack. my my my, aren’t we high falutin.
so.
i move the diaphragm and jelly into her bedroom. and that next morning it was back in full force. laying there in its pretty pink case – defying me. taunting me.
it’s annoying the piss out of me.
what jails is like
“I’ll warn you, if cornered
I’ll scartch my way out of the pen
wired, an animal, the claustrophobia begins.”
it’s approximently 3:57am and insomnia is taking over.
again.
it’s a never ending battle it seems. today i was so proud of myself. all of the stuff i had planned on doing i got done (oh yeah, fighting with justin was on the list of priorities, don’t lemme forget that): i updated the site. i did laundry. i biored. i cleaned the house. put the clean laundry away. called the car pool people. it was going swell. so at 11:something, when i laid down to read before i went to sleep, and i check the clock an it’s 12:16, and then 1:26 and then it’s 2:27am. Justin is back to working days now at PBI, so he’s up at the crack of dawn. He decided, at 11pm, to watch Party Girl. I rented it for him, on the basis that there was nothing else at the vid store. And Danny always said i reminded him of Parker Posey. She’s got MOXY! I luv her.
An anonymous email I just sent out:
“It’s 4:16am and I’m still awake.
It’s freezing here.
And i’ve decided that I’m unbearably lonely.
Lisa”
you know, I’m tired of being strong.
Mike and i had this killer conversation yesterday (being Sunday — lets not fuck up my sleeping habits enough).
And I like him.
I like the fact that that I can be something of myself around him. I thought he was being pretty spacey sometimes — you know always good for a few laughs — he’s a funny guy. every time we are on the phone, I’m laughing so hard my stomach aches. but today was different.
and i think it was because when the fun and games were done, we got down to some serious talking. he always pesters me to ask him questions (i hate when people do that btw) about himself. and it’s hard, when i’ve lived in my head for so damn long. almost 27 years worth.
and we talked.
and it felt good — it didn’t feel contrived or that i was using one of my sparkingly personalities to do something. I’m grasping for the words to describe it — but I’m afraid I’ll sully it with some trite description. and this wasn’t really about you know, a rehash of our life — but it was more a telling of stories. about ourselves. and i felt utterly comfortable discussing things with him. it was strange — it was like something had changed. i just felt — me. and talking about my moxy vs insecurities. it was just normal.
i’ve been striving for normalcy for the last few years. a few days ago, i went to Jeff’s website and found that i was a tad green with jealousy. newly married, new loft in downtown Pittsburgh. i don’t know — i just felt sick that i didn’t have that. it’s like a part of me won’t allow that to happen. and i don’t know why. well, yesh i do know why. I know precisely why.
i can trace it all back to specific events in my life of why i am the way i am. i can explain it so clear. maybe you should work on it — i keep hearing that. but damnit. it’s like, mike is so totally the guy that i would love dating on a daily basis (well you know what i mean). not textual. just — you know beers somewhere. a movie. hiking somewhere. where i can give him a kiss on the cheek good night, shut the door and go sit on my bed for hours whispering to my teddy bear, telling him how great mike is.
real.
in your face.
i need that as bad as i need to be whipped sometimes. don’t get me wrong, i love my mind f00ks as much as the next sadist/masochist, but there is something about reality. smelling and breathing. and touching that is just so appealing. it just seems in the last five years i’ve meet guys i’ve liked on-line, we meet and it ends up somewhere has to move somewhere to date. and it’s not even that anymore. it’s like assumed we will automatically start living together. i wouldn’t give up that for anything — it’s experience, i want to be able to say i’ve done it, but the last time i was on an actual “date” was with danny back in 96.
and that makes me sad.
i get so disgusted with the pick of men in SF — hell — i know totally part of it is my attitude since i’ve gotten here — how i feel like it’s tainted and sullied with bad memories. that things shouldn’t be the way they are — that my dreams got dashed by things that i couldn’t control.
now, don’t get me wrong, geeking out is great. it’s fun. i love being online, but there is so much more to me than just what you see here, in this medium. it’s like the whole email disaster — people email me, but i don’t think they really want to know “me” — cos i might say or do something that will totally disrupt them and any illusion they have of me. and that annoys me. or they think I’m so fscking cool. cool about what? I’m just me damnit! That’s all I have ever wanted to be — was me.
Jaffo once told me I was the most complicated woman he ever met. he’s a net.legend, this must be true. he has this thing for grapefruit — Lisa get back on track!
yesh ma’am!
i just think that maybe, I’m growing up. things defiently don’t seem like they used to be when i was younger. things seem more clear — or — just more focused. and that feels like a lie, partly because well, I’m feeling vulnerable right now. and it seemed like a good thing to say.
it’s 5:31 am. Justin is up and told me i was beautiful. i keep staring at the picture to your left — and i can’t believe that’s me. that’s just one of me’s. so it’s been said.
I’ll leave you from a few words from my boy Greg Dulli:
When We Two Parted
baby, i see you’ve made yourself all sick again
didn’t i do a good job of pretending?
You’re saying that the victim doesn’t want it to end
Good. I get to dress up and play the assassin again.
It’s my favorite.
It’s got personality.
I should have seen this shit coming down the hall.
Every night I spent in that bed
with you facing the wall
If I could have only once heard you scream
To feel you were alive instead of watching you abandoning yourself
baby, you can open your eyes now
And please allow me to present you with a clue,br>
If i inflict the pain then baby only I can comfort you
Out of the night we come into the night we go
If it starts to hurt you then you have to say so.
finis
x0x0x0x0x0x,
moi
Countdown
My birthday is in 6 days.
I turn the ripe old age of 27.
beauty is only skindeep
this is a crock of shit.
When Justin and I were dating, we would constantly get into big arguments because his style of dress was anything that was clean: ratty old tshirts and crotchless shorts. When we would go out, it was a long never ending argument that I wanted him to DO SOMETHING with himself. And he would, eventually, begrudgingly put on a pair of dress shorts and decent shirt. and by this time, after i had primped and gotten beautified, i was pissed.
Justin and I spent so much time arguing about this. I couldn’t make him understand that part of having confidence was just the fact that you feel that you look your best. His argument was that if I loved him, I would love him regardless of what he wore. And i wanted that to be true, but lets face it, I’m a snobby bitch. I want someone who looks good, at least in my eyes. I want someone that when I look at, I want to pounce. I want someone who /cares/ about how they look. i tried, really, really hard to not make this an issue, but I couldn’t help it. I felt guilty because it felt like i was being shallow — but when i talked to other people about this little problem, they assured me I wasn’t. Part of feeling good about yourself is how you dress and thus how you present yourself to the world. I’ve always made the correlation that on days when I’m feeling less than good about myself, it’s mainly having to do with how i look. Now honestly, no ones other opinions do matter other than your own — and this was justins biggest argument to me. That if he was comfortable and felt comfortable with himself, why was I making a big deal? The problem was that I knew (because he told me often enough) that he wasn’t comfortable with himself. He would bitch about the weight he gained and then go eat. Or lie on the couch. His lack of motivation, passion and drive drove me nuts. (Intoxicated by your aggression, I offer you my one possession). The arguments would subside and sooner or later would start all over again. This is one of the reasons why I never wanted to do anything with him: he didn’t feel the need to put on anything other than this icky orange t-shirt that was nearly a rag and icky shorts. I would spend the time getting beautiful and I felt like I was going out with my brother. Hell, even my brother had style. He loves Nautica. He takes somewhat good care of himself. He has pride in how he looks.
And i don’t want to hear about how being prideful is sinful or whatever lame argument that is presented. Cos you know what bub? No one is gonna give a shit but yourself. It’s true. Only you and you alone can make the changes and become what you are.
okay, i diverting from the subject.
back on track lisa! whip!
and so it’s much later.
today consisted of me bolstering peoples ego, helping friends out and sitting on my fat ass all damn day. justin and i had gotten into a huge argument earlier this afternoon because i had wanted him to help around the house. many may remember months ago when i had spoken of this very same subject: the plan was devised of a chart of which days on who does chores. This helped out for awhile and then we broke up and we both slide down the hill. For awhile I hadn’t cared much because the house wasn’t falling into the pit of despair it once was — but looking back now i realize i just accepted it for what it was. But I’m fucking annoyed with it. I’m tired of picking things up. So i attempted to rouse Justin’s ass off the couch and he picked a fight with me. And we were arguing in the bathroom and he backed me up against the wall and yelling at me — and i told him he was scaring me. he knows not to yell at me and he commented “don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you” — and even if it WERE true — I just felt so damn defenseless standing there.
living with men suck.
i had this long diatribe in my head about beauty and how we appreciate it and i find that now that the day is gone, so am i.
for your amusement however, you may download one of the following:
new pics of me
cartoon pron
x0x0x0x
moi
Happy Birthday
Today would have marked my Grandfather John’s 87th birthday. He died a few days before Christmas in 1996. My relationship with my grandfather can be found in the piece D3buck’s S0d Farm and Gift Shop.
Speaking of D3buck’s Sod Farm and Gift Shop, last summer i received a whacked out email from a woman who claimed to be a representative of the D3buck family. As in the same family who ran the “actually” Debuck’s Sod Farm (yesh it does exist). She claimed the family thought their granddaughter had written the piece and that they had received a copy of the piece via fax from some consumer who had found it on the net. In the name of Jesus, she wanted me to remove it. I forwarded the email to Jericho and he ripped the woman to shreds.
some people have all the luck.
if only i could hear you scream
okay. first off, like the new design? 🙂 Mike from ihatemike.com did it for me as a pre-birthday gift type thingy. I’m totally loving the way this came out. go email him and tell him how much he rocks. 🙂 He doesn’t believe it.
fountain and fairfax
so much running through my head. haven’t heard back from any of the schools as of yet. i can’t make a decision on what i want to do. i can’t decide where i want to go. people are pushing me a million different ways. i don’t know what’s going to make me happy — o better what what goals will need to be done to get to that point.
i feel so shallow.
all i can think of is damn Afghan Whigs lyrics and the fact I’m getting my hair done tomorrow.
hopefully tomorrow i will have something more profound.
“think I’m proud of this, then the shame you never lose”
this must be what jail is like.
someone stop me!
404 Not Found
From Greg: “OK, either you’re being subtle, or you have a bad link. Either way, you have to admit that the answer to “what do you want” being “Not Found” is kinda funny in a Janeane Garofalo-ish web-savvy kind of way. :)”
Uh, well, I went to upload the file what i want and my connection died last night. I dialed into three ISPs and I couldn’t route for the life of me. However, amusingly enough I could route in Linux. But the file is in winders. I’ll fix it tonight. 🙂
99% accurate
I’m not pregnant.
you are probably wondering “what?” but for the last few weeks, the only thing on my mind has been the fact that I “may” or “may not” be carrying another life within me. i was conscious of this as i sat drinking all day Sunday and i was conscious of this every time i lit up a cigarette and smoked.
but I’m jumping ahead.
As many of you who know me fairly intimately know that I haven’t been “right” with menstruation since, well, forever. I was one of those weird kids that got their period at the age of 8 (and had to deal with Mrs. Bruntrock (real name) calling me a liar and forcing my mother to come down to St. Josephs to verify my claims of having to change my damn pad) and got it again at the tender age of 13. I was regular for like a minute and then I stopped getting it. I got examined at the age of 15 where the doctor proclaimed I “may” or “may not” have juvenile endometriosis. he suggested however that i start taking the pill to regulate my periods and take things from there on in.
i think i was the only virgin who has ever been on the pill.
this worked well on and off for the last 11 years, but there has been times where the choice between getting my prescription refilled and eating and eating came out to be a winner.
when i moved to SF, I had my doctor write out a prescription for me for a years worth and diligently took the pill with no problems, however my prescription ran out last July and I haven’t been back to get it refilled since.
In the interim, I was sleeping with Justin, who was by far the only person I was sleeping with, and we were double bagging condoms on top of the pill. When the prescription ran out, I didn’t really think anything about it and just kept screwing Justin and using those damn condoms but kicking myself internally for being too lazy to get the prescription refilled. there has never been any worry of me getting pregnant as we were taking extra caution since i went off the pill.
i haven’t had my period since January.
living with another alpha she bitch (ie: Cathleen) in the house has caused, when even on the pill, disruption in my cycle. Cathleen and i would joke about who was “large and in charge” based on who was forcing the other person to go with their others cycle. it was damn annoying. then i went off the pill. and I didn’t have my period for a few months and then i got cramps from hell and got it in December and January. and i took out my Dilbert planner and marked the days so that i could finally start tracking my period to see who really was large and in charge.
for months I would get “symptoms” that i was all too familiar with: some cramping, craving of chocolate/salt for a day or so. moodiness. and then Cathleen would tell me that she just finished her cycle and it suddenly make sense. so I started jotting down my moods and they completely corresponded with when she was on her cycle.
but no blood.
I kept telling myself that it was just my fucked up body doing it’s thing, but then march turned into April turned into may turned into June.
and then I started feeling “funny”.
Ever since James went back to England a week or so back, my stomach has been acting weird. a combination of cramps and acid and major gas. i felt like someone had shoved an air pump up my butt and just filled me with 10lbs of air. my stomach hurt, i couldn’t drink anything more than milk and sometimes even that was too hard. and i couldn’t take it anymore. i hadn’t told anyone what had been going on. i was in complete denial about what was going on. and when James and I talked about it the other day, found out that both of us were having the exact same symptoms for the exact same of time (since he left). and if i was “maybe” pregnant, did that mean james was too?
so i told Justin what i was feeling.
and he said “you’re not pregnant” and i asked him how did he know? and he said that he had been through this with his ex and he did research on getting pregnant and turns out it’s harder than it seems. yeah sure, i mean if you have real respect for your body, you’ll always use protection, but even so, he kept telling me that there was like a zillion and one chance that i was pregnant (go back to the: ALWAYS using protection and double bagging at that). He said he wasn’t worried. I was worried. I kept talking about going and buying a pregnancy test and never got around to it. I kept putting it off and putting it off. and i had gotten my horoscope on Saturday for Sunday and it said something like “the news you have to tell people will be taken with more sense then you have” or some shit and i freaked out. I had planned, on Sunday to go and get the test and interpreted THAT to mean that if I WAS pregnant that people would be cool with it. So i skipped out buying the test.
But i couldn’t deal with NOT knowing absolutely for sure.
So last night, after dropping Cat off at my house, I screwed up the nerve and drove to longs. I lit up a cigarette even though I knew that it was a 2 minute drive. I parked the car and walked right in with determination in my back and my head held high.
I was so scared.
I walked down the baby aisle and just stared at all that BABY crap and a million things went through my head about abortions and having kids and my friends who had all been done this path before me. i thought about my immaturity (i can’t even take care of a damn cat hello!) and the fact that if i ever got pregnant i wanted to be married or at least very much in love with someone.
and then i couldn’t find the damn tests.
i looked to my right and saw something that said “early testing”
But of course.
Pregnancy tests are located next to the condoms. How silly of me not to have thought of that.
I grabbed the first package and read the instructions. It sounded simple enough and walked towards the cash register. I sat there, shoving the box underneath my armpit. I felt ashamed as i watched the people ahead of me buying Mt. Dew and their damn dr scholls foot deodorant. I stood there with my mind running in a million different directions. I twitched and put the box face down on the conveyor belt and started reading the Enquirer. I kept telling myself “there is ABSOLUTELY nothing to be ashamed of. No one is going to make fun of me for buying a pregnancy test.” But I couldn’t help swallowing hard as Tariq the counter guy asked me how i was doing as he examined the box a little more closely. I said fine thanks and kept my head held high and attempting not to look scared..
I drove home and read the instructions. Now all I had to do was wait to pee.
And I waited.
And I waited.
By the time i went to bed some 6 hours later (and drank enough water to kill a horse), i still couldn’t pee.
I went to bed after working out determined that regardless of what, i was taking the test the next morning even if it killed me.
as par usual, i woke up late.
I had the most delicious dream that I was dating Henry Rollins and had been screwing him in an apartment we shared. I heard the alarm go off and looked at the clock. i was determined to do this. i grabbed a plastic cub and went to the bathroom. ripped open both packages (two tests came in one package). dipped the sticks into the urine. jumped in the shower for five minutes (test takes 1-3 minutes), jumped back out. pulled the sticks out. looked that the information sheet. looked at the sticks. looked at the package. looked back at the sticks.
went out and said “hey Justin!”
got a muffled “wha?” from under the covers.
“I’m not pregnant.”
a “woohoo!” comes through loud and clear. then a “i told you so.”
As to be expected, i can’t but help feeling a tad bit disappointed. i had it all in my head that if i was pregnant i was going to have an abortion. i wasn’t in love with Justin, i was single, i wasn’t making enough money, i wasn’t in love, i wasn’t married. a thousand different thoughts went through my head of the reason “why” i wouldn’t have a child right now. but as i grow older, I’ve noticed that the more i look at some little girl with big brown eyes and dark hair and think “she could be mine”. and i can’t help feeling that all the promises i made in my head to a god i didn’t believe in were not only empty but somewhat full of some meaning. i start stressing out about how now that I’m getting older I’ll soon be too old to have kids.
the irony is that five years ago, i thought i was pregnant with Alan’s child (another “oh shit haven’t had my period in 5 months deal). and i had thought THEN there was no problems in my head with being young and having a baby. now five years later, i found that my expectations of what i want from life are completely different then they were then. i always thought i was strong then, but i was so immature. and i realize now that if i sat here and think about it, i could have handled having a little girl (or boy) NOW as I’m older than when i was young and stupid. maybe I’m not in the right situation right now, and i know there is a lot i want to do before i get married or live in sin again or whatever, but just thinking about the reasons then of wanting to have a child and now —
please god.
let me not turn into Ally McBeal.
little mikey norton
mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike mike
the ferrets made me do it.
if i were going
“you give it all but i want more”
okay.
damnit.
I’m getting bitchslapped on all sides about not updating this. it’s been nearly a month. i know i know. so do i play catch up with info or do i just delve into what’s a happening now?
what’s a happening now.
your attention please
first off, props off to my boy greg dulli from Afghan Whigs. his being the inspiration these last few days when i’ve been hanging out at work. hanging out at work. can you believe I’ve been at slip.net for 16 months? I’ve never held a job this long. responsibility scares the living hell out of me.
this morning Cat, Scott and I were in the car on our way to work (car pools all the way baby), I was sipping my cawfee when suddenly I couldn’t swallow. Cat was going on about her father (we were comparing life stories) when next thing I know i coughed up cawfee all in front of me and the dash of my car.
You know, I think there is something about Cat being around me. Last week we were walking in the parking lot on the way to my car, when i went flaying towards cement poles and landed on my ass. I did not trip over anything — that’s the weird part. Sat up in shock but amused — had busted open my hands and my knee and elbow. Heh. nothing like gleaning sympathy from everyone around me.
10 days till my birthday
learn it.
love it.
know it.
all gifts of cash, flowers, hardware, software, lap tops, iWhacks, books, clothing, and CDs can be directed to me. OH! and any tall geeky guys too 🙂
naive | go to hell
Okay, last Wednesday some fucknut stole my icq UIN for home. Think it can’t be done? heh. Wrong again buckeroo. Did some extensive searching and found out by using certain software your UIN could be stolen. And if you put your email address in the profile, it’s more like to be stolen (and easier as well). So, please check the contact for an update on my UIN’s and other info. This just pisses me the hell off. Someone said I should contact ICQ, but have you seen their site? It’s like schizophrenia at it’s best. It’s damn annoying. You can’t find ANYTHING on there. Argh. And the fucked up part is that I went searching for information on how to steal my UIN back and I found all these sites that were like “yo d00d, like tell your mate or your enemy to put his email address in his prefs, and you can like, steal the password to grab the UIN.” uh DUH!. So, I found a program that will do it if you compile it in c. so i tried compiling it and found out that the program had a ton of errors as well as as i was missing a few libs. blah. it went dormant for two years before i resurrected it again, I’m not stressing it. what’s sad is that all these people will icqing him and thinking it’s me. 🙂
heh
oh yeah.
When James was in town visiting me, we installed linux on my box. wooo. 12 gigs and think of all the pr0n one can muster. well. i had partitioned 4gigs to linux and the rest to winders. I’m getting pretty proefficent, the only problem is that when updating this site is that I need, NEED a spell checker damnit. iSpell in linux works aight, but the problem is that it saves the file in /tmp/somefuckedupfilename, and not in my directory of my choosing. So, once I edit a file and save it, then i have find it and the copy it back to the main directory. fsck that. Doing it in winders is a hecka lot easier 🙂 so I’ll be swapping back and forth while i find decent software to do html in. and no, pico NOR vi are the way to go baby. so don’t even bring up that argument. 🙂
what i want
a few days i started a chronicle on the precept of what i wanted from a man.
instead, i found that it should have it’s own piece. so if you are interested in reading in what i want from a guy as my luvah, check this out.
x0x0x0x0x
moi
pain (makes me beautiful)
my goil rynsey and i have figured out we were separated at birth. we think the same, act the same (sometimes) and have impeccable taste in men: Imhotep. darth maul. now mike.
twas strange how this worked out.
one day, i read my guestbook and i always go check out websites of those who sign my book. i find mikes. i read it. I’m impressed by his artwork. i email him. he emails me back. we do this for a few days. i don’t know notice there is a new person hanging out in #userfriendly. rynsey says something about his kick arse drawing. the light bulb goes on over my head. “dolemike == ihatemike.com”. he says “yesh”. and thus rynseys and i’s new obsession began. he’s tall, he’s cute, he’s a geek. what more could a girl ask for?
the funny thing was, he and i were talking and i mentioned i had given my resume to my friend greg who works at @Home for content writing. Mike said “Oh really!” I said “Yesh.” Seems that Midsouth Road Runner is looking for content writers too. I said “what the fsck!” and sent in my resume. Never been to Memphis, but what the hell, has got to beat SF.
timeshare.
rynsey and i really need to set up a timeshare on all our mens. pawly. brendan. imhotep. mike. darth maul. will the madness never end?
redux
In July of 1997, I had gotten my tongue pierced. In January of 1998, I had taken it out. However, lately I’ve been watching my cube mate Matt gauge his down to a 2g. I wanted my piercing back. I scheduled an apt with Anne Greenblat to either taper my old hole back open or repierce it. Turned out that the hole was never closed and she put in a 5/8th’s bar with pretty purple beads.
While I was at it, I had her gauge down my nipple rings from a 14g to 12g. I could have, effectively, worn a 10g. However, she didn’t have them in matching colors. The new rings are now bright blue with blue beads, instead of being the lame stainless steel color they were before.
And of course, I have pictures.:
gash.
i look horrid.
I’ve recently become obsessed with my breasts: i keep thinking they are getting saggy. Justin keeps making snide comments about how they are not: they are perfect. He even said after I had unrobed in front of him at the piercers that he was going to say “Doesn’t she have the more exquisite breasts?”
I really, really need to move soon.
So, here is my left saggy breast with new ring (b/w cams do suck sometimes), me being tired with my new barbell and my tattoo. I’ve never had a picture of my tat up before. Kinda amusing that the symbol of what it is (Eye of Ra) flows into this whole Mummy theme this weekend. My friend Will has the same tat on his wrists, in much smaller format. He is my gawd. 🙂
Speaking of Egypt, I just saw the movie The Mummy this weekend. Fuck Brendan Frasier, I want Imhotep, High Evil Priest of Orsis.
We were sitting there at the movie theater and when the actor (Arnold Vosloo) took off his robe, I about creamed my panties: tall, bald, incredible body, intense dark eyes. I must have him. And the girl who played his love interest was gorgeous too. Okay, I’ll have them both. 😉
What I found so damn amusing is that the hole never closed, though it had only been open for about 6 months and nothing in the hole for about 16 months. When I had called Anne, she had described several procedures:
- Either use a taper to widen the hole if possible (she had said this was the most painful) or!
- Repierce in front of the existing hole.So when she slide the taper into the existing hole and viola! It was still open. She slide the new 5/8ths bar in and put on the pretty purple beads. I felt no pain. It was most strange.
What was also weird was that I had been expecting to have the same problems I had before: lisp, slight annoying tug of the bar against the meat of my tongue, etc etc etc. But I had nothing. It tugged for about 12 hours and it feels like I never took it out. I was also frightened about having to re-learn how to eat again, but that didn’t occur either. The body is truly marvelous thing.
My breasts I had gauged down from a 14g to a 12g. Anne thinks by the next time I come in, I should be able to gauge down to a 8g. My whole reasoning was to stretch the holes to provide spacing for two rings, nesting inside one another. However, I recently saw a picture of a double nipple piercing and it looks exquisite. I want that, I think.
What I’m planning next is two outter upper labial piercings. From Anne’s description, it’s like better than ben wai balls AND rocks for fucking doggy style.
I begged her to stop telling me such things since I’m single now.I’ve just spent an inordinate amount of time here.
It is NOT for the faint/weak at heart.
I also came to the conclusion looking at some other pierced female nipples, that my breasts are pretty extraordinary.
You have been warned.
Gash, it’s strange. It’s like watching a car wreck or some other national disaster. I’m also finding myself highly aroused.
Eep.
Damn don’t I just feel like plain vanilla today.
I think I’ll take my vanilla ass to bed and continue on tomorrow.
Love,
x0x0x0x0x
dorothy
here toto!
eyes like coins
my rant the other did help one thing: the serious writers block I have had as late. Those long term in the Lisa Chronicles should know the pattern by now: days of entries, big gap in time, one seriously angsty entry, and back to days of entries again.
In the last few days, I’ve been spending a lot of time in my head. I was telling James (from England) about how I would, at times, spend hours staring at myself in the mirror. Maybe looking for the piece that is missing? maybe looking for the “spark” to light up my life. who knows. but, it’s something I’ve always tried /not/ to do (but did anyway) because it seemed to be fairly vain.
When I’m walking by a window/mirror or something that basically is going to reflect, I always want to look at my eyes and facial features. I want to see what the world sees. Justin often chides me on this as we are driving home because I will glance into the rear-view mirror and just /look/ at my eyes. I want to notice something that other people claim to see or want to see.
The one thing that struck me odd was that my eyes are actually /light/ brown. I remember a few years ago when Danny and I were at BlockBuster one night renting a movie. We had been joyfully arguing about whose eyes were darker. The BlockBuster we patronized at the time had square poles that were covered in mirrors. He grabs me by the hair and shoves my face (lightly!) near the mirror with his next to mine. Yep, he was right. My eyes were a lot lighter than I had /thought/ I had seen while his were nearly black as night.
all too often I don’t think we really /see/ who we are. One of the big conceptions I think (as someone pointed out to me last night) was that web-Lisa is different from irc-Lisa, which to be sure, is different from real-life-Lisa. Some times it’s hard to reconcile one from the other and where those boundaries lay.
I’m not really good with boundaries. I tend to think “mine mine mine” and keep it that way until I’m bored or have been kicked to the curb.
so the other day, was sitting on the sink applying mascara when i /really/ looked at myself. eyes, lips, cheekbones, the curve of my face into my neck. i spent more time staring into my eyes than anything, still looking for that piece of information that i feel keeps lacking in my life. going back to the color, i noticed my eyes were light brown with a wide ring of dark blue around the cornea. it was a strange combination, but that is what i saw. someone else, as i recall, had noticed it too when staring into my heavenly orbs. others have claimed to have seen green and yellow specks or that one eye was hazel and the other dark brown. me? well, i always said my eyes were dark as night and after 26 years of living with them, you would think that i would know what i was talking about.
well i was wrong.
i keep thinking of late what Andrew said about perceptual reality and global reality. we can all agree, for instance, that the sun rises in the morning and sets at night. what we can’t agree on is whether or not when it rises or when it sets because our perception of this even is going to be different. i like akining this to people and how people perceive different things and what we want from that perception itself. maybe, sometimes, we try to hard to think one thing and what we really have is another.
i dunno, it just seems that lately the more angst i give myself the more i bury myself into myself. sometimes change is good — and sometimes finding certain aspects of different relationships with people on either irc/real life or what have you, gives you a whole new view on things.
tonight for instance, i interviewed a guy here for a position that is going to be created. basically, this position would be my boss. at first, i knew who the person was (he was doing tech support for us) but i had never spent more than five minutes speaking to him in any sort of conversation. but once we started the interview, the roles changed. he was a fresh perspective and i found i could really and truly communicate with him. while we came from different ethnic and racial backgrounds, our own lives were very similar in a lot of aspects.
Joseph said it on irc one night that clicked a bell inside of me: I like the attention people give me. And i had laughed that off because I didn’t that was true, but it’s not the attention from others in any context that i crave, it’s the energy from those people i crave.
someone with charisma who can keep up their end of the conversation is more apt to have my attention then someone who doesn’t. i think this explains some of the aspects of why i flirt so much. some people you can spend hours and hours talking to, even in a platonic matter, while others are like fucking dead people. I think that is what bothers me the most about some of my “admirers” that were stalking me at one time or another: the spark wasn’t there to carry on the conversation longer than any sort of subject other than what was superficial at the moment. and it wasn’t that i needed something like that all the time, but think of me as a battery: i need to keep going and going and going.
i think this works well with the exhibitionist streak that i have or the fact that it seems i have no morals. I do, however the point i want to make is that i want people to /think/ for themselves and think completely independent of what they see/hear. This doesn’t fall into any sort of intelligence or common sense issue, it falls into the issue that some people have “spark” and others don’t.
Jeff once said to me that I zipped up my whole life into a F.U.C.K. file and gave it to the world. Pawl said that I never told him anything other than in email. I think that I say a lot of things, I just think that many of those I’m speaking to just don’t listen. Yeah, yeah, I know: they are not clairvoyant or even telepathic. I just think that for the lack of attention paid to that aspect (look what I do for godsakes), is one of the reasons why i had finally broken down and did LisaLandCam, because I have absolutely no problem baring my soul to the world and have you notice the consistencies (or inconsistencies) of who I am. This is me. This is not all of me, but it’s enough for now. Even in day to day activities, I still find that many of what I said/do is still under heavy watching because it may not make sense with what I have said/done in the past.
I’m really into “real” things. like things that can be touched/felt/seen/heard. I’m into staring into eyes and seeing what images i can come up with. I’m into baring the soul and not letting go. mystery is fine, that’s part of the mindfuck, keep it changing, but i need to make it real, in no matter what context. so that’s why, it’s a paradox: i say a lot in these herein journals but when it comes to those I’m talking to: i want to see results! i want to see actions! don’t tell me x,y,z just do it! I get easily frustrated with how people will, instead of take charge of the situation, lax on it. either you do or you don’t.
as for me, well, no one ever said i was perfect nor did anyone say that i easy to get along with. but i can tell you one thing: go sit in your bathroom, flip the lights on and stare into your own eyes for an hour or so. things will become a lot clearer when you do.
love,
x0x0x0x0x