Yes, there is a reason why guests smell after three days

I’m so bloody tired, the mere thought of doing homework makes me want to puke. But with a paper (well, an essay) due tomorrow, a test tomorrow, two big papers due next week and my poli sci midterm also next week, i have to get cracking. I’m not sure how I’m doing it, but I’ve been channeling kethryvis, so fingers crossed it’s all good.
So, I’ve discovered just how much I love my personal space.
Like if space were a man, i’d marry it. Call it george, pet it, etc.
You don’t come over to someones house and bitch about well, everything. If I tell you something such as do not leave my bathroom trash can on the floor as one of my dogs will get into it and smear bloody tampons all around the house, please do what I ask. But no, that was apparently too bloody fucking difficult. Also, if i ask you if you want something from the store, because you’ve known me for a zillion years and you know I drink non-fat milk and eat lowfat/healthy foods, don’t complain when i ASK YOU WHAT YOU WANT FOR DINNER AND YOU AGREE TO WHAT I PROPOSE, STOP BITCHING THAT WHILE IT IS GOOD, XYZ IS WRONG WITH IT. The list went on and goes on.
And it wasn’t just my guest, it was my brother too. My god, my teeth are on edge I’m so pissed off. Yes, I do understand I do not have a job, but I DO work a lot getting these good grades, they do not come easily even if they are level 100 and 200 classes. And you know what else, stop picking on me. Stop making fun of my choices of reading material, music selections, food selections, and DVD selections. the fact that I have faster bandwidth and computer than you do. Stop getting pissed off if you ask me a question that has relation to the Internet and I do not know the answer. Or the fact that my apartment is nicer than yours, that my car actually does not need to be jumped in the morning and that I have enough gadgets support a third world nation. Just because I have something, say OH A TiVo, and I TiVo something for you, this does not mean you can come over when you want, eat my food, and expect to hang out here all afternoon. And stop bringing your fucking dog over here and calling my dogs bitch dogs. Yes, they are 18lbs a piece, but you know, this is THEIR home, and I don’t need your wild beast fucking with them in THEIR home.
I’ve fucking had it with people taking advantage of my generosity. Jesus christ on a fucking pogo stick.
Lets see what else:
Well fuck you to my mother, who, while doesn’t have a job and can’t seem to comprehend that while volunteering might just go against her at her review for SSI, is paying one of my aunts MONEY to clean her apartment. You don’t have a job. The woman is 59yo, let her get money somewhere else.
Fuck you to Paul for calling me up and blaming me for all his problems as to why all the people in NoVa (who, apparently and btw hate my guts) no longer speak to him and everyone is so ‘boring’ and ‘old farts’. Or something.
Fuck you to the ex Danny who states and I quote “I put my life on hold for you”, which I nearly laughed myself out of my chair, really, because you can’t get any funnier than that. And yet who seems to think that since I’m back that I’m now just a “Yahoo IM Booty Call” away. ahaha. Sure buddy. What the fuck ever. Hell would freeze over.
What else, oh well fuck you to boy-who-lives-across-the-sea. It seems, he likes a girl, which is fine. They went out on Valentines day, which is also fine. What is not fine is that we had this huge discussion about the probability that if one of us started dating that we would try and maintain our friendship, and now he’s back to ignoring me, again. Right. Who the hell was I fooling? Myself apparently (plus that super secret dream that i had feverently wished you were going to drop to one knee and declare your love to me was just that, a dream. hahaha. boy i’m so rich i kill myself). And we just had this fucking big discussion three months ago and you know, the whole point of being friends is that it IS a two-way street.
and fuck you too to the internet. Recently found someone I’ve been looking for for nearly four years now and now I’ve realised maybe sometimes it’s better to just leave things as they are — in the past where they belong.


mother, may i

my mother called me this morning to let me know what was currently going on with her since she had moved to Port Huron. She still gets a bit giddy with the realization that she see’s an ad on television for Port Huron, she thinks to herself how wonderful it would be for her to live there and then reality strikes that she does live there.
Mumsy is becoming the belle of the ball, being the second youngest resident in the independent living apartments she is currently residing in. She goes out, she plays poker, she goes shopping, she’s always on the go. She was lamenting to me that she no longer feels productive anymore and i had to keep reassuring her that she was getting along just fine. I then thanked her for being so damn impatient, passing that trait on to me and making me the anal retentive person that I am today.
A prime example is after we had moved everything yesterday, Alvin and I were in my bedroom unpacking my books. You can tell a lot by what person first unpacks after they move. The three things I was worried about were:
a. coffee machine/grinder
b. the teddy bear I’ve had since i was 3
c. my book collection
Alvin offered to help stack the books into the huge bookshelf i have, when i declined and said no, my anal retentiveness wouldn’t allow it. I couldn’t find the one big box of books i had that i had in my “current reading pile” but started reading About A Boy again by Nick Hornby, after telling Chris it was a load of poo. Well it was a load of poo, but it was a year ago when I read it (after finishing High Fidelity and deciding that the main character was me) and who knows?
Maybe I was wrong.
So far, I haven’t been wrong.
We have no gas and thus nothing to heat up the water heater and we can’t cook. Last night I had to have a shower and stood there under the freezing cold sprays.

pictures galore

This summer has been pretty busy, with my mom attempting to commit suicide, Paul and I calling off the wedding, and me getting inked/pierced galore. Plus include my obsession with Power Girls, my puppies and getting acrylic on my nails, it has been strange. To keep you interested until I get the website up and moving again, here are pics taken with the new digital camera I got for my birthday, indexed per subject.

power puff girls thong
power puff girls thong

desktop as of 8.24.01
desktop as of 8.24.01

my bathroom
my bathroom

my cube, side a
my cube, side a

my cube, side b
my cube, side b

my cube, side c
my cube, side c

my 25lb cat that currently lives with my mom<
my 25lb cat that currently lives with my mom<

Pugsley, Wednesday and Lily (left to right)
Pugsley, Wednesday and Lily (left to right)

ankle tattoo was done 1/1994
ankle tattoo was done 1/1994

arm tattoo was done 7/14/2001
arm tattoo was done 7/14/2001

lower back tattoo was done 7/5/2001
lower back tattoo was done 7/5/2001

repierced for the 3rd and 4th time on 7/15/2001
repierced for the 3rd and 4th time on 7/15/2001

left calf tattoo done 8/11/2001
eyebrow pierced 8/11/2001, nose pierced 3/1993
10g barbell put in 7/1999, pierced 1996
mom’s name ‘marietta’, two different variations
picture taken summer of 99
tongue pierced, 7/1997
Paul’s dragon, left upper arm
Paul’s right wrist


How the hell do you start talking about the fact that your mother attempted suicide? I had been sitting here for the last few days thinking about it myself here, coming up with no real answer. Do I sit here and talk about sitting with her Saturday morning at the emergency room watching the ER nurse talk on the phone to her kid rather than take care of my mom? Do i talk about calling 911, having Kent County Sheriffs department show up and the cop asking me if I was the one who OD ‘d? How the hell do you start a conversation about that?
Perhaps we should go into the back story — maybe that will explain it a bit more.
For as long as I’ve been writing TLC, I’ve talked about the fucked-up- ness (if that is a word) about my family. My own mental health up and downs, my failures and successes with my life, and touched on the bit about my fathers death and the almost estranged qualities my mother and I had.
Several weeks ago, I received a phone call from my mother, which is rare as I had always called her. Her voice was monotone and almost hypnotic when she spoke. Due to diabetes, her vision was getting worse by the day and she had become a hazard on the road. She didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t qualify for early retirement, she couldn’t get Social Security. She felt like her life was failing and she saw no need to go on. She told this to me, to Jeff, to the on call nurse at St. Mary’s, to the doctor, to everyone.
Friday 6-29-01, I called my mother on my way to work when she sounded horrible. She had called me the previous day to let me know she had resigned from her job — and I was begging her to wait till 7-3-01 so that I could drive up there. She didn’t know if she could make it. That afternoon, after getting everything squared away at work, I went ahead and drove from VA to MI, rolling in at about 3:30 am Saturday morning. My brother, who was in Oregon for a basketball camp, flew back home Sunday afternoon. By Monday morning, the whole family was together for the first time in nearly four years.
Monday 7-2-01 my mother attempted to OD on insulin by giving herself twice her normal value. Tuesday 7-3-01, we decided that she needed more help than we could give her and attempted to get her admitted to PineRest, which is the local (Grand Rapids) mental hospital. But my mother pulled the rug out from the shrink’s eyes and they agreed that she just needed a change in medication. She came out of Cornerstone, happy and nearly bouncy. She came home and attempted to get her life in order and then the next day, she slept for the next 36 hours.
Saturday 7-7-01, my brother came and woke me up. Mom took 200 units of insulin, he said. She is attempting to kill herself he repeated, and I woke up with a start. I held onto her while he called poison control. Jeff started making her drink OJ with sugar added while I got on the phone to 911. Within an hour, she was stabilized at the local hospital.
And now the choice is, where do we go from here?

dear old mom

earlier this evening, after speaking to my mom for about a half an hour, i hit the “end” button on my cell with a heavy heart. this has become a common occurrence when speaking to her as of late.
>it seems that earlier this week, when she was visiting my brother in Peoria for his basketball game, she had awoken up the morning after the game with a burst blood vessel in her eye. This was due, i find out from her, to her diabetes and this was not the first time this has occurred. When she arrived home back to grand rapids, she had emergency laser surgery done on her eye to repair the damage.
it was then she dropped the ball to me that she had wanted to up our plans and move in with us this year.
paul and i had talked about this previously prior to the bombshell this evening, and while i accept my mother is getting old and sick with her diabetes, i don’t know if i can accept the responsibility of her issues. i know, that the guilt deep down inside of me is pushing to do this out of fear and out of the fact that it feels like (to me) i neglected my father during his last few years on this earth. i know i know, everyone says it is not my fault and things work out the way they are, but i feel that the longer i fight to save my mother from herself and from killing herself (she was on suicide watch mid-last year), i find myself sitting in my car alone going, “I’m too fucking young to handle this”.
please don’t get me wrong, i love my mother. and i will admit that my fathers death was a blessing in disguise as we have been working on being close as a mother/daughter for the first time in years, i feel like i can’t breathe and i feel like I’m being suffocated every time something close to commitment of anything comes on. it doesn’t matter if it’s taking care of her, or paul or the goddamn dogs, i just want to break free and be alone.
on Friday afternoon, i drove to my shrink’s office with a heavy heart. after my conversation with Dr. B the previous week, i have been more silent than usual. not silent in writing but silent in communicating verbally to those around me. she and i had talked about this all the previous week about how when I’m asked what is ‘wrong’ i say nothing. the perfect example is when i walked into her office that afternoon and she and i sat there doing the “stare” for a good five minutes before i opened my mouth.
in all honesty, when I’m talking to her or to paul, or hell to anyone that cares, when asked what is wrong i always say ‘nothing’ because it is true — there is nothing wrong. my mind is often blank (so i think) and i just stare off into outer space. this has become more apparent as of late and those around me say they want to know what’s up and why I’m not communicating with them.
i don’t have an answer and i don’t have one major issue that if i talk about it, it suddenly becomes this catharsis of “wow, don’t i feel just fucking better”. it just simply, to me, isn’t that easy to discuss.
i had said to paul in many ways i was angry at my shrink for talking about things in the past — because it brought them up to light and it was issues i didn’t want to revel. things that are in the past and better left unsaid. however, my own behavior in the last year or two has shown that keeping it down deep inside is not the best solution, no matter how much i try and say it is. i often tout that I’ve worked past all those previous issues when I know i haven’t. it’s like, as paul pointed out, there are two me’s. the one that is angry and the one that is calm.
this got further discussed between Dr. B and I as I had told her that the words “hurt” “kill” and “stab” often pepper my vocabulary more often than I like. When I don’t like something or feel intimated, i often say “I’ll hurt you” and most particularly to paul “I’ll stab you”. I’ve often had thoughts of hurting people when I was angry and in the past I used to hurt myself. I remember when I was a child I used to sit there with needle and thread and only going through the first few layers of my skin, sew my hands together. I used to pull out big chunks of my hair (often from behind my ears where it wasn’t noticeable) by twisting and pulling. Dr. B. said I sound like a bully and she was right. But why was I acting like a bully?
In my younger years, I was often intimidated by those physically and mentally stronger than me (so i thought). I wanted to be liked so bad that hell, when I lost my virginity, it was due to peer pressure and not due to the fact that i had actually wanted to fuck that guy. Of course, years of beating myself up over it coupled with what I truly wanted were used to punish myself for what i had done.
Dr. B. says that having a vivid imagination or fantasy life is sometimes very healthy. If you do not act out in that fantasy life (you know, like i wouldn’t really stab paul even though I keep using it as a line of defense) it can help deal with anger. Many people say there is a fine line between fantasy and reality — and while often I feel that I often cross that path, acting it out inside my head is often a good release for whatever I’m feeling.
i never understood people who are ashamed or afraid to admit hey are seeing a shrink or are on drugs of any sort to make their lives easier. I have not qualms about facing reality and knowing that i have “issues”.
definitely something to think about.

twilight as seen by me

the last few weeks have been a surreal experience. suddenly i’m seeing myself in positions and places and acting in this strange netherworld that i didn’t think belonged to me.
i’m in this very strange place and it’s called being 28.
the rock and the hard place — the times i told paul i was leaving and today i come home and he prepares a bath for me, makes me a screwdriver (75% oj, 25% absolut), and lets me soak away the stress with harry potter (cause for divorce? she reads harry potter your honour). exes swinging back into your life and everything else in between.
brian’s leaving here in a few weeks. both paul and brian have been bugging me for “what do you want” as their mom wants to buy me something for taking care of brian and of course of pauly. taking care of someone is second nature to me. it feels that way. its like all those times i never asked for help and now i’m giving it and asking for it.
jeff and i have been going through some rather intense conversations lately on the status of my mother. the other day he and i spent an hour on the phone while i flipped around my sparc at work doing stuff. it was so much easier with a headset on to work and to talk. and my mom. at 58 she’s struggling with things i’m going through now and i want to reach to her and say it’s okay because i’ve been there. and she says to me “i cannot ask for help.” and before when she did ask for help, i ignored her because it was what i did best. and i kept coming home from work this week thinking about her and calling my brother. she’s broke. her job screwed her over. and i said JEFF! i buried one parent this year, I can’t go through another one. I just can’t.
sometimes i want to be free. i’ve always felt like a bird. relationships were temporary, measured by months and years invested and shuffled away to another spot where i couldn’t access them. and i think about all of them all the time. alan. danny. justin. and i wonder what they are doing right now at this very point in time and i wonder if they are happy? and i wonder why i care so much.
andrew said to me tonight ‘it always amazes when people think it’s so hard to find me.” and i said “get over it, i’m in my happy place” someone remind me, if i ever meet him, to bring him a box of crayolas.
love is blind.
love is good.
i had always envisioned that when *I* got married and had kids, i would have a family i never had. i wouldn’t have the bs and the bullcrap i had gone through. and i would create this stable environment where they could feel like they could belong. when i’m trapped i keep giving myself this out. jeff told me to set up seperate bank account and start saving money and if paul pissed me off, i would have enough to leave. and i’m thinking “yanno, it can’t be like that. we are in a relationship and yah things can get horrid but that is normal” but i run run run run run run when things get horrid and here i am.

mom’s birthday

Today is my mom’s 57th birthday.
I got a few emails from friends of the family asking if I was gonna call her and I haven’t made up my mind yet. Last time I spoke to her, which was a week ago, I started crying after the short 10 minute call. I’m sure my brother will call her. Hell, she’s found Jesus™ now, so what does she need me for?
Ufie dotted — again
Several weeks ago, my cohort Thyla and I put together a page simply called Carbonated Borscht for the Evil Geek’s Soul that parodied some funny stuff. It got mentioned on the news feature of UserFriendly and actually got /.’d. This week, Godmoma put together a page called Illiads Harem.
I have no idea what’s going through Godmoma’s head. 🙂
So, any rate, I’ve been Ufie Dotted — again. Got over 500 unique hits yesterday. Woo. That surprised me 🙂 So I felt I must update. heh.
Blatant Promotion
My buddy and yours, Mike Norton recently finished work on his new comic The Waiting Place. I got to see the um, rough draft of it when I was in Mayumphis in July. The story is really cool and the drawing is incredible. Mike is obviously, ultra excited about this.
Since I’ve met Mike back in May, he’s helped influenced my non-comic reading butt into reading comics. Now i’m addicted to Strangers in Paradise and have been looking at other comics as well — namely ones that Mike and other people have recommended.
It goes without saying I was completely detached from the fact of just how many people read comics these days. It’s almost as bad as the damn Trekkies. 🙂
Regardless, Mike came to me and asked me to promote his work since I have gotten a ton of people to read SIP and they all adore it. So PLEASE PLEASE go support a young starving artist before Mike makes me buy 15000 copies!
Speaking of comics though, I’ve been neglecting my own habits. I’m only up to early Vol 3 in SIP and haven’t had a chance to catch up. People have been offering new comics left and right and I’m going insane with the divulge of offers. Calm down people, after i move and get settled in, i’ll start my addiction back up again.
Lisa-Cross-America ’99
Well it’s been official for awhile, but you all know I’m leaving the greater Bay Area in early October.
My numwitted ex-fiancee Danny has recently informed me that he cannot drive with me and thusly I’m doing it alone. I had a brief panic attack (like ohmygodwhatifigetcaughtwithaflattireinbfetexas) — but after a minute or 100, I calmed down and realized that spending four days alone, in my car, could be a good thing (you know they say if you keep repeating something, it just might come true).
I’ve been mapping out my itinerary and it looks like i’m driving south to SoCal and then straight across crossing through NM, AZ, TX, OK, etc on my way to Atlanta. What’s in Atlanta? Why Atlanta Linux Showcase my dears. There will be the BIGGEST party that side of the Mississippi for geeks. I hit LWE, now it’s on to ALS.
I think it’ll be cool though. I will have my laptop, cell phone and all my credit cards. I will be updating on the road as I plan on spending about four days driving — maybe less depending on my speed. heh. I might end up in Atlanta on Monday night. Who knows? Anyway, I’ve been attempting to coordinate with friends about crashing at their place on the way across. So, I’ll be okay. Just look for the black Saturn with LNX and LinuxGurven stickers plastered all over it doing 80 and you’ll find me.
I realize that driving cross country is something that I’ve been dreaming about for years. I wanted the opportunity to see this great land we call home before I flee this white trashy country and go to Europe. What I can’t understand, is that with so much time available for me to do it, why I’m planning on taking a more direct route and not seeing the country. My friend James, who drove solo from SF -> Gainesville FL was telling me about the pit stops he made when he drove across — which he did twice. Not many people get the chance to see this wonderful country of ours and I’m worrying about all the extra time I’ll have.
My favorite catch phrase recently has been “But I worry”. It’s driving me insane.
I’m gonna end up in Virginia, where Shelly already has our apartment that she’s cohabitating with her bf. Everything is set into place. On one hand, I’m ultra excited about doing the move. On the other hand, I’m afraid of falling on my face.
This should be very interesting.

lisa the geek

As many of you probably know, I recently acquired a Macintosh. I know I know, no — hell hasn’t frozen over. Basically what happened was that in the process of doing Y2k inventory, all the “junk” machines such as the production machine I was doing IEAK on, were not being included and were going to be sold off. I bought a Macintosh Quadra, 17 inch monitor, CD-ROM reader/writer (SCSI) and an external SCSI drive for, get this 100 bucks!. I’ve been spending all weekend getting it hooked up. The only fucked up part is that it’s a 68k Mac and NOT a power PC. gash. But anyway, you would be surprised how much software is still available for the 68k Mac. So I’m sitting here, doing the chronicles on my Mac (named imhotep) while my linux box plays Ned’s Atomic Dustbin God Fodder.
This so owns.
See, this was part of the problem. Mainly I wanted to have two boxen: One would run linux of some distro (now it’s Mandrake aka RedHat on crack) and some sort of gui based OS. The problem was that with Linux, many of what I use and do, there is nothing out available for it. I tried doing TLC on a linux boxen and lemme tell you, it was not easy. Mainly the thing is my spelling (very important of course) sucks major ass — and I needed a spell checker. There was NO getting around that. The only thing I found for linux was iSpell, which is okay but it kept saving the files to /home/lisa/temp — which was pissing me off. It would save the files as “12aksjdhf.tmp”. Then doing a hunt and peck looking to see which file was what with pico ain’t my idea of fun. I needed something that was literally easy, I could run my lame ass apps (like Aol/IM/ICQ/Eudora) and where i could also fuck around in linux. I wanted best of both worlds. heh.
Anyway, the problem with running solely Linux was the fact that half of my hardware wasn’t running. We are talking about a second generation Sony Vaio (200mhz) which I had pimped out with 12gig’s and 64mb of ram and a PHAT 56k modem. heh. Anyway! Moving right along, sound didn’t work — and with no sound when lisa is working makes for a very unhappy lisa. Everyone and their brother tried to help me out — nothing was working. It was some sort of legacy issue — that and PnP of course. But, thanks gods for Justin. I walked away from my comp the other day and he sat down, reinstalled Mandrake, got ipchains working, setup the firewall AND got it so that my sound was working. So now I’m jamming to Ned’s and typing on mah mac. 🙂
This rocks.
ph33r my elitness
grey cell green
So, nearly 10 days ago when i wrote my last missive, shit has been fucked up all around. My car got towed and I owed the City of SF 600 bucks to get it out of impound. I’ve been playing “Am I getting fired today?” at work (very long story — and no I’m not). I’ve been uber depressed. Been walking around listening to nothing but Front242/FrontLine Assembly/KMFDM — anything industrial/techno/gothic based. Spending too much time being really down on myself. I wish I had something specific to pinpoint as to WHY I’m feeling like shit — I mean — depression is coming. I knew when I went out and bought “raven mist” hair color and painted my nails “seduction” (aka blood red). I know shit is fucked up all over — and it didn’t seem to get better. I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t know how to handle it. As obvious by Justin shaking me on the corner of 2nd and Stillmen when my car got towed. I’m slowly going INSANE. People are commenting left and right to me that they haven’t quite “seen” me like this in eons — and I know what it signifies. The next couple of months are going to be ultra-crucial. I’m moving to VA on October 7thish, I’m going to Atlanta, I’m moving to a new state — starting a whole new life. I should be FUCKING happy and I’m not. I keep degrading myself down to these pitiful little holes of hell and it’s driving me mad. I just wanted to be happy — and I think that everyone wants that as well. But I’m finding that all my old “things” that I was so angry at are resurfacing. Read anything before TLC came on-line in July of 1998 — you’ll see what I mean. Many of it still seems to be tripe to me — but a lot of echoes how I feel right now.
My mom is joining a convent soon. How quaint.
I’ve been trying to write a TLC for days now — but finding it harder and harder to do so.
I don’t know what’s happening to me.
Paul said I need to face my fears and only then will I be free.
I just fear some major heavy ultra-rejection.
I don’t know how strong I’m supposed to be and how much stronger I need to keep being. Sometimes I just want to die. I won’t lie to you. I’ve been calling the music I’ve been listening to “Slit Your Wrist” music. I’m not kidding. Do a search for Front 242 lyrics for the album “Off” — you’ll see exactly what I mean. I’ve been walking around going mumbling “just be myself, can i just be myself”.
I told someone 30 was my cut-off point. If I don’t accomplish a lot of what I want to do before I’m 30 — I’m gone. Now before you start going “Um, Lisa, that is SUCH a cry for help” and calling your local suicide hotline, don’t bother. 98% chance that I won’t off myself (I made a funny!). Anyone who has known me for years that these things pass with time and I’m never serious — however, I know that many of us feel, that from time to time, life isn’t worth living. And sometimes I’m happy that I made it through my first suicide attempt 10 years ago, and other times I wish I would have died. But that is neither here nor there. I’m just telling you how it is folks, that is why you are here.
I will make no illusions that I’m being serious. For a few days, i was dead serious. But, I have (and will always know) that this passes with time. Being bipolar manic depressive isn’t cool kids. It sucks major ass. Lemme tell you.
But things are looking up. I’m removing myself from one situation and starting anew life. I’m really digging someone I’ve been digging for 6 months and he’s mein gott (g). I had to say it to taunt him.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, there is so much, that you as a general public are not aware of. So much lies behind me then what meets the eye. Some people are not comfortable with knowing THAT MUCH about me — others want to own my soul. I give what I can — when I can. I give to those I feel deserve it and when I feel they need to have it. It’s not a game — it’s my life.
i’ve always been strong — and I’ve always attempted to make some sort of peace within my life. I’ve always strived to be the VERY FUCKING BEST that I can be. And that threatens people — and it’s harmful to others. My megalomania can be daunting. Fuck, I just created a new IM name: LishaIsGod. heh. Cos, I am god. this is my fucking world and I’m letting you enjoy it. If you piss me off, nothing a little DENY won’t work magic on.
I’m rambling.
Someone once asked me long ago the purpose of this site. I’ve been on slashdot, I’ve been linked a time or five from UserFriendlys website — People know of me. I’m not some nameless person in the crowd (well — heh). I am someone.
And see, in some sick twist of fate, this is NOT what I wanted. I never wanted to be known as se7en’s exfuck (which, two years later, still fucking haunts my ass), or anything other than myself. This website was purposely for my own purposes — I write to feel better. I write to create. I write to look back and laugh at my own stupidity or my own wisdom. You, the general public, just think I rock on with my frock on. And that’s okay too. I’ve created new identities for myself and I’ll keep creating till one fits who I am. Things are looking up. I’m hopeful, I’m optimistic, I’m moving on up (to the east side!).
I’m okay — really.
I’m telling you all this now because how could I not tell you. For over a year now, my life has been an open book Many people probably know WAY more about me then they want to know — but, that’s okay. I’m here and I’m still kicking and screaming and that says something. I’ve always known that if I was going to off myself, I would have finished the job that I started 10 years ago. But, I know that many things are going to happen, it does get easier and I have a 6’6 sadistic motherfucker waiting for me in Atlanta.
Things aren’t what they always appear to be — and I know that. And I’m rational enough to know that only I can control my fate (I won’t tell you WHY I’m subscribed to getting my daily horoscope, i can cos it’s cool) and i only can make the decisions to make my life better. For the first time, in a very very long time, I feel more confident in all my abilities than I have for a long time.
And what does lisa do when she’s down?
She goes out and buys new shoes of course!
And can someone PLEASE explain to me why the fuck I can’t find bra’s in size 36Ds? It’s not like I’m that big — jesus. I found bras in 36DDs but not single Ds. Sunofabitch.
I’m tired now. Carolyn (Cathleen’s sister who is staying with us temporarily) and I wear the same shoe size. We are going out this weekend
looking for bitchboots (imagine — 5-6 inch platform, knee high leather boots). Woo doggie. I can’t wait.
I tired and I go nini.
happy thoughts
Today I actually left the office and sat in SouthPark and ate a burrito from Pepitos as I enjoyed the beautiful summer weather and read Henry Miller. Regardless of the crap that has been occurring — doing the little things really makes me glad to be fucking alive.

Happy Birthday To Me

Seems pretty self-explanatory to me.
Strangers in Paradise
I can either write a really happy “OH GOD IT’S LISA-MAS DAY” type of chronicle or I can be utterly depressing.
Let’s do both.
I haven’t been feeling too hot as of late. Other than the usual melee of crap running around in my head, there really isn’t nothing that is driving me nuts but maybe the onslaught of my birthday. Everything is coming up Lisa recently but, the problem is that I cannot stop obsessing about the fact that I am getting older. It’s a part of life and i have accepted it as such. as i told Chuck last night on AIM, I’ll always feel 17 in my head. He said he felt 22. It works out perfect.
Anyway, last night I got home and there was a package from my mother in the mail. I was surprised actually that she sent me something because lately I’ve been thinking that I wouldn’t receive even a phone call from her or my dad. So Cat, Justin and I were talking when I opened up the package. Inside I found the following items:

  • The deed to the house on Paris St that my mother bought for 70k in 1990. The house is being sold as part of her bankruptcy.
  • Original marriage license dated July 2, 1971 for Marietta K. Preiss and Edison K. Rabey
  • Immigration and naturalization papers for one Lisa M. Rabey dated February 14, 1973.
  • Photocopy for a “Complaint of Divorce” between one Marietta K. Rabey and Edison K. Rabey dated January 22, 1974.
  • Original copy of above.
  • Certificate of baptism for one Lisa M. Rabey dated July 7th, 1973.
  • Birth Certificate for one Edison K. Rabey, born May 22, 1927 in Gaspe Bay North, Quebec Canada to Thomas M. Rabey and Sarah McFee.
  • Certificate of my first communion dated May 4th, 1980.
  • Certificate of my confirmation dated April 13th, 1986.
  • One “child identification card” for Lisa M. Rabey, dated 4.12.86. I stood 5’10 and 160lbs.
  • Copy of baptismal certificate.
  • “Deans List” honor award, dated May 1, 1988 while i was in high school.Mixed along that list was a cartoon my mom sent me (any cartoon she finds that seemingly is high tech or applicable to me, she sends to me) and a letter. Her beautiful handwriting on pink paper.

i read the letter to cat and justin. parts that i couldn’t read, i handed to cat to decipher for us. i joked that in high school her handwriting made it damn hard to copy for “excused absences” when i was off skipping. her letter pretty much said the same thing her letters have been saying as of late. she’s broke. she needs money. an itinerary of her complaints. cat almost cried when i put the letter down. we couldn’t figure out as a collective why she would send me the above stuff and that letter. dated June 2, 1999. arrived June 11, 1999. she didn’t even acknowledge or wished me a happy birthday.
there are about three people in the world that i’m in contact with who know of me from when I was living in Michigan: Sherry, Shelly, Jenni and Danny. Since I communicate with Jenni, Danny and Shelly on-line now, they know (or rather verify) that my mother is nucking futs. or fucking nuts. I emailed Shelly last night right before I watched Swingers with cat and justin.

We’re gonna spend half the night driving around the Hills looking for one party and then leaving ’cause it sucks, then we’re gonna look for this other party you heard about. But, Trent, all the parties and bars, they all suck. I spend half the night trying to talk to some girl who’s eyes are darting around to see if there’s someone more important she should be talking to. And it’s like I’m supposed to be happy ’cause she’s wearing a backpack? Half of them are nasty skanks who wouldn’t be shit if they weren’t surrounded by a bunch of drunken horny assholes. I’m not gonna be one of those assholes. I want to throw up. Some fuckin’ skank who is half the woman my girlfriend is is gonna front me? It makes me want to fuckin’ puke!

yesterday was d-day at work. i had to have Y2K crap ready to go for FirstWorld and since all the idiots didn’t get it on time, I didn’t have it finished. And my own stuff wasn’t finished. I was running around like a chicken with her head cut off pulling systems apart. one of the jacks was dead and i couldn’t repatch it via the hub. two computers died on me. otto ripped apart four machines and dumped them in my cubicle to get finished. i said fuck it and left at 8pm. i’ll deal with the shit on Sunday.

Mike has been pushing me to write my book. i started getting all defensive about it and said something really nasty about his cartoons. i couldn’t believe i said it. after i said it, i opened mouth and inserted foot. i kept apologizing up and down to him and i still felt aghast at what i had said. and he said, “yeah i understand, it’s only my lifes work.” all i kept thinking about last night when i got home from work was how awful i felt for saying it. so in conversation last night, he asks me if i had purchased Strangers in Paradise yet. I said no. So I hurried off to and bought it. i think it’s important to him that i ‘get’ why he loves cartoons (yeah he’s a kick ass artist. i got two Mikey comix for my birthday signed. i suddenly became cool in my office for his rendition of me looking at flowers).
I’ve never gotten into comix because, well, i dunno. just never thought about it before. in turn, he asked me to recommend a book to him for him to read. we went through a few possibilities and i hit the nail on the head with Heinlein. Since my turn on to Heinlein was by Jeff who thought I would dig it, I suggested Time Enough For Love as a good intro to his work. Mike agreed it seemed good, so as a surprise I ordered it for him. Hey, i’ve been feeling down the last few days and shop when i’m depressed. Thus explains the two new CDs, darth maul poster and other crap I’ve bought on-line. I didn’t think anything about it. So when I told him what I had done, he said he felt uncomfortable with it. I understood that and cancelled the order. Mike even mentioned it in his journal.
even though I understood it, i felt worse. I had insulted him twice. i wasn’t doing anything right, it felt like. it wasn’t me talking, it was the depression i was feeling.
mike kept turning the conversation around and we started talking about my book.
i sent him the two possible starter chapters i had worked on a year ago and he liked them.
now all i have to do is write it, he says. he wants me to send chapter by chapter as i go along. giving objective opinion.
jaffo said to be prepared to say “fuck you” to anyone who says anything to me about writing.
he’s on page 200 and something into his novel.
he’s my hero.

internet luv
From a TLC reader:

“you know, it’s weird you should write about ICQ random searches… Nov. of 97,
Crystal did a random search, found me… I lived in FL, she in MO, to make a
long story short (as I figured that’s the kind you’d like, if you like them at
all 🙂 ) I came up to MO to visit my grandfather the day after Christmas of
97, met Crystal on the 28th, we were engaged on Jan 1st 98, I moved here Jan.
12, 98, and we’re getting married two weeks from today…

BTW… happy birthday :)”

it’s 5:11pm and it’s my birthday. it seemed the more i sat here writing the more depressed i got. i went and did a few shots of liquid courage (ie: Skyy Vodka) and i feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I need to shake myself out of this.
Sonya just called and said that i had to bring girls over for the party tonight as only a few females are confirmed for showing up. All my female friends that I have invited couldn’t make it. I said “who cares” — let me make an ass out of myself tonight. It’s my fscking birthday!
I want to thank everyone for the flowers, books, cd’s, chocolates, cards and other goodies that I have gotten for my birthday. Every present was as unique as the person who sent them. You guys rock. I love you all.