Hmm, it's been a long time since I posted anything over here, I've had thoughts in my head and I want to share them.
I recently posted a piece of fan/gift art on my art blog and it reminded me why i don't do that. I love making fan art i just never want to get attention for that being my thing, it's not, i create original content and sometimes I illustrate an idea that I really latch on to. It was actually deviantArt that drove me away from making fan art. There were really shitty artists getting a lot of attention because all they did was produce popular things. Whatever the hit anime, movie or hot person they drew that and raked in commissions and attention for not being creative.
fuck that shit.
I guess i should be proud of my personal integrity for not just creating pop art but at the same time I want my work to be noticed more. I know I'm not bad i just feel like sometimes i need the validation from the webcomic art community that I'm good at what i do. I don't draw heroes, I draw real people and cartoony situations. I draw me. I wonder if any of this will get better when I have a website that's either my name or for my comic and if I actually post consistently. I really haven't been able to just focus on my own art work because of school and other obligations (mostly school) so will that change an improve when I graduate and the only other thing i'm doing is working some shitty job or three to pay rent and eat.
I don't fucking know.
My other thoughts have been on my current anxiety, not too much depression. i still don't know how to deal with anxiety or how I feel about myself because I don't know how I feel about myself. I spend as much time as I can trying not to think about my feelings and that I really don't know. i kind of feel listless and like I'm not accomplishing anything. i'm not really. I mean, I guess I am, i'm getting a degree and I'm in college but outside of that, i'm doing nothing in the real world.
i think i'm going to just go home and eat something I'm hungry.
In writing this and a few other things today i've come to the realization i'm not writing or really working with words enough. My past week has been weird and I don't know what to do to fix it, so that means I'm feeling depression or something. Fuck i'm hungry. Also, i've always only used the right shift key and something is wrong with it, either a ball of hair under the key or something else obstructing it, it's really not an excuse to not go back and fix my capitals it's just annoying. so there. i know i'm hitting it, or maybe i'm just not holding it long enough when i go to strike the letter. ehh...i'm leaving now.
P.
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
July 5, 2012
September 8, 2010
Questions and Statements
I'm not asking for answers to any of this, it's just what goes on in my head sometimes. How bad is it if I ask that nobody comments on this? And don't like it either, I think the like feature is bollocks.
---
Why
Why am I such shit at staying asleep?
Why do I lose interest in people from simply not pursing them?
Why am I so fucking passive aggressive?
Why do I want or feel as if I need other people to tell me I'm a good person for me to believe it?
Why so much self-loathing?
Why do I run away?
Why do I speak my mind as rarely as I do?
Why do I speak my mind at the wrong times?
Why am I so fucking vague?
---
Pretend
Sometimes I feel as if I'm a kid pretending to be an adult.
Sometimes I pretend I'm a kid when I want to shirk my responsilbilties.
I might pretend I never wrote this
---
How
How can I be vain at the same time as I have low self-esteem?
How long will I feel like this?
How long until I am able to deal with this better?
---
Statement
I second guess most of the comments I leave before I leave them.
I only look at a few people's profile pages.
Every now and again I click on webpages/websites linked from profile information
I can't stand tagging people, I feel as if I'm being exclusionary
I only read notes sporadically
I feel as if I impose.
I don't mean to be as abrasive as I feel I come off as
---
What
What do I need to do to be happy?
What am I doing wrong?
What am I doing right?
---
When
When will I be happy with me for more than a few hours, days or weeks at a time?
When will I feel loved? And I do mean feel it. I know I am loved, but sometimes I don't always feel it.
When will I get off my ass and publish things?
When will I feel successful?
Jasmine P.
--This could go on, but I don't feel like it.
---
Why
Why am I such shit at staying asleep?
Why do I lose interest in people from simply not pursing them?
Why am I so fucking passive aggressive?
Why do I want or feel as if I need other people to tell me I'm a good person for me to believe it?
Why so much self-loathing?
Why do I run away?
Why do I speak my mind as rarely as I do?
Why do I speak my mind at the wrong times?
Why am I so fucking vague?
---
Pretend
Sometimes I feel as if I'm a kid pretending to be an adult.
Sometimes I pretend I'm a kid when I want to shirk my responsilbilties.
I might pretend I never wrote this
---
How
How can I be vain at the same time as I have low self-esteem?
How long will I feel like this?
How long until I am able to deal with this better?
---
Statement
I second guess most of the comments I leave before I leave them.
I only look at a few people's profile pages.
Every now and again I click on webpages/websites linked from profile information
I can't stand tagging people, I feel as if I'm being exclusionary
I only read notes sporadically
I feel as if I impose.
I don't mean to be as abrasive as I feel I come off as
---
What
What do I need to do to be happy?
What am I doing wrong?
What am I doing right?
---
When
When will I be happy with me for more than a few hours, days or weeks at a time?
When will I feel loved? And I do mean feel it. I know I am loved, but sometimes I don't always feel it.
When will I get off my ass and publish things?
When will I feel successful?
Jasmine P.
--This could go on, but I don't feel like it.
August 31, 2010
Esoterically Me
I am esoteric. I rely on other people without blatantly telling them that I rely on them. I use my friends to validate me to such an extent that when I'm alone I decide I'm worthless and want other people to tell me what to do, how to act or even just tell me to do something I already want to do. Like, right now, I'm friggin' giddy over this dude. I spend too much time contemplating what he thinks about me, what I'm wearing or things I like or say. I have elaborate fantasies of us just hanging out or him actually asking me out and it both cheers m up an depresses me. I feel like I'm loved but then I think about who I am and how I act and decide there's no way he'd like me and I'm back to where I started again. Sometimes I make elaborate plans to boldly say what I feel but it never works out. I'm either too distracted in the moment (too giddy, too eager, too nervous) or I'm finally calm again and I'm confused as to how I feel. I'm going insane. The person I actively turn to tells me to just go for it, but then I'm too afraid, or I don't know the next time I'll see this guy.
I'm esoterically me because I post song lyric for unrequited-love songs as my status on facebook hoping he gets the message. I say we should do something together, effectively saying we should go out or I go out on a limb and directly ask him out. I'm tired of being so stressed out, I want to forget about romance and infatuation and just focus on being stressed about school and classes and getting my life together.
I want a cheat code to get to the end. I want to peek at the last page of the book to see how it all ends, I'm tired of turning the pages one by one and feeling like I progress no further into the story then I was when I woke up this morning. I at least want to say something before my journal comic gets online. There's flirting something like...6 or 12 days in, love sick whining for the next two months then meager interaction for the last few weeks with an increase in pining and being a whiny bitch.
I'm tired of being so esoterically me.
Jasmine P.
Fuck, this whole rant is esoteric.
I'm esoterically me because I post song lyric for unrequited-love songs as my status on facebook hoping he gets the message. I say we should do something together, effectively saying we should go out or I go out on a limb and directly ask him out. I'm tired of being so stressed out, I want to forget about romance and infatuation and just focus on being stressed about school and classes and getting my life together.
I want a cheat code to get to the end. I want to peek at the last page of the book to see how it all ends, I'm tired of turning the pages one by one and feeling like I progress no further into the story then I was when I woke up this morning. I at least want to say something before my journal comic gets online. There's flirting something like...6 or 12 days in, love sick whining for the next two months then meager interaction for the last few weeks with an increase in pining and being a whiny bitch.
I'm tired of being so esoterically me.
Jasmine P.
Fuck, this whole rant is esoteric.
June 30, 2010
My Past 24 Hours: A Hellish Roller Coaster
Yesterday I spent about...4 hours watching the first two series of Black Books which was created by Graham Linham and Dylan Moran. It's a fantastically awesome series about three misanthropes. Bernard Black run Black Books, a used bookstore; Manny goes bonkers and starts working there and Bernard's friend Fran spends a lot of time hanging out in the shop. They live drinking, smoking and being all around ridiculous. The characters remind me a bit of a British It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia at times, the humor isn't as dry as some British comedies can be. It made yesterday pretty damn awesome as I started sinking into being depressed.
Speaking of being depressed...I went to counseling yesterday morning, like most Tuesdays. Prior to I did that stupid thing where I sleep for four hours. Seriously, I think it's a retarded side effect from quitting smoking. I don't know, it's really friggin' annoying. I woke up at 6, I was able to get back to sleep, but being awake was not plesant. It's not like I didn't feel rested, but I know me and I know my habits so I don't understand why I keep waking up after only four hours of sleep.
In councling I spoke about what's gone on over the past week including going to a festival this past Friday and going to a youth church thing. I can appreciate where the group is coming from by using rap to make the youth feel closer to the message [it was a predominantly black church group] but I don't agree. It sounded mostly like hardcore rap which seems a little counterproductive. What I mean is, if it sounds like gangster, shoot-'em-up rap and you can't understand what's being said, how do they know the message they intended got across to the youth? If you look at my track record of music habits I'm across the board, except for hardcore rap. I never liked that sound, it has never been pleasing to my ears so I was judgemental. If you remember my earlier blogs about my opinion of religion I was already going in judging. I tried to get with it but I couldn't. When the speaker got up on stage to preach I was more or less fine with the message. He spoke about not giving up because something is too hard. That's the Devil's work getting you off your proper path. That I could get behind. I could not agree with his use of a cancer analogy.
For the newcomers, my mother died from cancer. I don't like talking about cancer in that ambiguous manner that if someone died from it, they gave up. Bull-fucking-shit. My family and I never 'gave up hope' we held out candle for my mother the entire time she was ill. We prayed, our church prayed, her co-workers prayed. She's now on a prayer list or something with some church, still. People have not forgotten us. There were a lot of people who didn't give up praying for her. The doctors did the best the could and ended up trying to keep her pain manageable. She died because of science. Why do I not want to accept it as God's will? I'll tell you. I don't want to accept it as God's will because I still needed her. I still need her.
I have met a lot of people who care, who will give me advice and help me should I ask, and even if I don't ask all the time. That's all well and dandy but my mother is still dead. It's not the same. If God cared about me than why did she need to die? So I could grow up? What's going to happen in my life that I couldn't stay naive for a few months longer, a few years longer.
Why did she have to die, science can explain. The massive amounts of chemicals in her system took their toll on her body, it could not take it anymore. Her kidney's stopped flushing water from her blood; her lungs deteriorated from pneumonia getting a hold of her chemotherapy weakened system and her body was too far deceased and disconnected to continue. Her body knew it was time, it tried to keep up but it couldn't repair itself fast enough. The thought that biology happened, that it's the natural order of life and death, that all living things die at some point made me feel better than saying 'God wanted her to come home.' Science gives me answers. I believe in science. I believe in some deity getting things started and is now sitting back or just plain gone and this world continues circling that fucking star. Science has yet to give us all the answers. I can accept that. I mean, if the universe started from the 'Big Bang' where did the elements come from for that initial beginning? If they came from an even earlier universe, what happened to that one? And where did that one come from?
We don't know, so I believe in science as far as it can give me an educated answer. It might all be wrong but it makes enough sense and seems plausible enough for me.
I left counseling this morning with my counselor asking me to detail how I felt as my mother was sick, when she died and after. Thankfully I have so many damn blogs and journals it's kind of like aggregating it and maybe writing something new, or taking this. Not too sure yet.
I left counseling and killed some time until I went out to Jerry's Art-Arama to get supplies for my color theory class. I spent $184 to get my supplies, giant 19X24 bristol, color aid, pencils, triangle, compass and a shit ton of 'other'. I did get to save abut $20, my friend who is now dropping the class, is letting me borrow some things for the duration which is pretty sweet.
Now, the trip back from Jerry's, which is out in Virginia Beach was an interesting and highly irritating one. Remember how I said I was slipping into depression last night? Well it reared it's bastardly ugly head. Fucking bastard. People's driving was irritating me and my friend tried to give me some advice on how to deal with it. It didn't help. I was in the middle of being depressed, being told just about anything does not help. We were stuck in traffic because of an accident on 64 and people just kept irritating me. My friend couldn't placate me and was actually counter productive. When I cry I don't want to be told it's fine to cry, I like rationalizing things out. I like words, I like taking the elusive and explaining it to the best of my ability. Why? It focuses me. It keeps me in control. I like being in control.
That's not to say I don't let myself go and go with the flow of things. I have been stepping out of my box, out f my comfort zone for a while, trying new things. At the festival I tried crawfish, I went back to a church for the first time in three years, I've gone out with people I don't know. I have no problem feeling joy, happiness, bliss, anger, irritation, depression. I feel, I like feeling with words. Tears do nothing. No, crying doesn't make me feel better, I hate crying, I hate it when I cry, it's like I've lost control in an unpleasant way. Science on wikipedia gives me a few answers but not much is going on right now to really prompt this. It's irritating and I really can't stand crying.
And looking at that and knowing me I can now predict a few things. As I said yesterday I knew I was getting depressed. As I cried I said I was feeling depressed. I've written more journals in the past few weeks than I have in a while. Writing is one of the things I do when I'm depressed, I'm trying to put my feelings into words, trying to work through it. Writing about any thing that comes to mind. [Yes, I want 'any' and 'thing' to be separate words]. I've been depressed and I'm PMS-ing. I'm not as hard up about candy unless I'm pms-ing, and I want peanut butter. It was never chocolate for me, always peanut butter. At the moment it's peanut butter M&Ms, yeah there's chocolate, but it's about the peanut butter. It's usually Reese's Pieces, I know these things.
So I'm in my car, trapped in my traffic, in the Virginia heat [with A/C], and I'm crying and depressed. My friend it telling me it's fine. It's not fine. It's never fine when I cry. Very few of my friends have seen me cry and it's always when I can't put my frustrations into words.
I hate crying. Period.
I dropped him off, came home, and made a 16 oz Cosmopolitan in a water-bottle. I downed it in an hour and rolled around on my bed drunk and doing nothing on the internet until I decided to see Toy Story 3. I have been thinking about not seeing it, but in the long run I had to. It was awesome. I didn't like that the three trailer's before the movie were for 3D flicks, I saw Toy Store in classic 2D and these trailers seemed like those movies weren't going to be distributed in 2D, I assume they will be but we'll see. One of these days on my movie blog I'll put up my opinion about 3D and elaborate on my distaste for it. And if you pop over to my movie blog, you can see my opinion on making pseudo 3D/CGI animated films, as critiqued by the Smurfs movie slated for next year. I also have some ideas about photo-realism, which can fit into that blog but will get it's own, because that owl movie looks creepy (it had human eyes..wtf?!? -ovular-). But, I don't like barn owls, their faces are disturbingly flat, and the movie seems to 'star' a barn owl. Joy. Or it's a masked owl...I don't like the flatter faces. The other things I noticed in the trailers is that there are two animated movies for this summer/fall that seem like they're supposed to be sympathetic to villains. The Will Ferrel one, Mastermind or whatever (...'it's BIG for a reason'...great, penis envy jokes); and the Steve Carell one, Despicable Me (reading this plot, this seems weak. I like the beginning idea, but where it goes, not as much). I think the trailer could be made stronger if the minion characters said the word right, instead of tailoring it to kids, if they broke it down on the screen for the kid to learn the damn word and not having the minion stumble on the word then having the announcer say it correctly.
So, Toy Story 3, fantastic. It was also hella depressing. It was also hella brilliant. I loved the toys that were there in the the day care, I loved how things played out. It was all really well written an animated. I don't want to spoil much, but I do with that more had been done with Bonnie's toys, they were awesome. And great voices all around. I could have gone with the Spanish Buzz joke, it went on a bit too long for me and seemed to be a little contrived, but outside of that bit of nit picking I enjoyed everything. It was written on a kid's level, but was great for adults without it needing to be vulgar, a la Shrek.
Yeah...I came back home and wrote all this out. It's taken me a bit more than an hour. So today was a roller coaster of hell, kind of. But I feel better now that I've written..something! See, crying doesn't help, words do!
Jasmine P.
Speaking of being depressed...I went to counseling yesterday morning, like most Tuesdays. Prior to I did that stupid thing where I sleep for four hours. Seriously, I think it's a retarded side effect from quitting smoking. I don't know, it's really friggin' annoying. I woke up at 6, I was able to get back to sleep, but being awake was not plesant. It's not like I didn't feel rested, but I know me and I know my habits so I don't understand why I keep waking up after only four hours of sleep.
In councling I spoke about what's gone on over the past week including going to a festival this past Friday and going to a youth church thing. I can appreciate where the group is coming from by using rap to make the youth feel closer to the message [it was a predominantly black church group] but I don't agree. It sounded mostly like hardcore rap which seems a little counterproductive. What I mean is, if it sounds like gangster, shoot-'em-up rap and you can't understand what's being said, how do they know the message they intended got across to the youth? If you look at my track record of music habits I'm across the board, except for hardcore rap. I never liked that sound, it has never been pleasing to my ears so I was judgemental. If you remember my earlier blogs about my opinion of religion I was already going in judging. I tried to get with it but I couldn't. When the speaker got up on stage to preach I was more or less fine with the message. He spoke about not giving up because something is too hard. That's the Devil's work getting you off your proper path. That I could get behind. I could not agree with his use of a cancer analogy.
For the newcomers, my mother died from cancer. I don't like talking about cancer in that ambiguous manner that if someone died from it, they gave up. Bull-fucking-shit. My family and I never 'gave up hope' we held out candle for my mother the entire time she was ill. We prayed, our church prayed, her co-workers prayed. She's now on a prayer list or something with some church, still. People have not forgotten us. There were a lot of people who didn't give up praying for her. The doctors did the best the could and ended up trying to keep her pain manageable. She died because of science. Why do I not want to accept it as God's will? I'll tell you. I don't want to accept it as God's will because I still needed her. I still need her.
I have met a lot of people who care, who will give me advice and help me should I ask, and even if I don't ask all the time. That's all well and dandy but my mother is still dead. It's not the same. If God cared about me than why did she need to die? So I could grow up? What's going to happen in my life that I couldn't stay naive for a few months longer, a few years longer.
Why did she have to die, science can explain. The massive amounts of chemicals in her system took their toll on her body, it could not take it anymore. Her kidney's stopped flushing water from her blood; her lungs deteriorated from pneumonia getting a hold of her chemotherapy weakened system and her body was too far deceased and disconnected to continue. Her body knew it was time, it tried to keep up but it couldn't repair itself fast enough. The thought that biology happened, that it's the natural order of life and death, that all living things die at some point made me feel better than saying 'God wanted her to come home.' Science gives me answers. I believe in science. I believe in some deity getting things started and is now sitting back or just plain gone and this world continues circling that fucking star. Science has yet to give us all the answers. I can accept that. I mean, if the universe started from the 'Big Bang' where did the elements come from for that initial beginning? If they came from an even earlier universe, what happened to that one? And where did that one come from?
We don't know, so I believe in science as far as it can give me an educated answer. It might all be wrong but it makes enough sense and seems plausible enough for me.
I left counseling this morning with my counselor asking me to detail how I felt as my mother was sick, when she died and after. Thankfully I have so many damn blogs and journals it's kind of like aggregating it and maybe writing something new, or taking this. Not too sure yet.
I left counseling and killed some time until I went out to Jerry's Art-Arama to get supplies for my color theory class. I spent $184 to get my supplies, giant 19X24 bristol, color aid, pencils, triangle, compass and a shit ton of 'other'. I did get to save abut $20, my friend who is now dropping the class, is letting me borrow some things for the duration which is pretty sweet.
Now, the trip back from Jerry's, which is out in Virginia Beach was an interesting and highly irritating one. Remember how I said I was slipping into depression last night? Well it reared it's bastardly ugly head. Fucking bastard. People's driving was irritating me and my friend tried to give me some advice on how to deal with it. It didn't help. I was in the middle of being depressed, being told just about anything does not help. We were stuck in traffic because of an accident on 64 and people just kept irritating me. My friend couldn't placate me and was actually counter productive. When I cry I don't want to be told it's fine to cry, I like rationalizing things out. I like words, I like taking the elusive and explaining it to the best of my ability. Why? It focuses me. It keeps me in control. I like being in control.
That's not to say I don't let myself go and go with the flow of things. I have been stepping out of my box, out f my comfort zone for a while, trying new things. At the festival I tried crawfish, I went back to a church for the first time in three years, I've gone out with people I don't know. I have no problem feeling joy, happiness, bliss, anger, irritation, depression. I feel, I like feeling with words. Tears do nothing. No, crying doesn't make me feel better, I hate crying, I hate it when I cry, it's like I've lost control in an unpleasant way. Science on wikipedia gives me a few answers but not much is going on right now to really prompt this. It's irritating and I really can't stand crying.
And looking at that and knowing me I can now predict a few things. As I said yesterday I knew I was getting depressed. As I cried I said I was feeling depressed. I've written more journals in the past few weeks than I have in a while. Writing is one of the things I do when I'm depressed, I'm trying to put my feelings into words, trying to work through it. Writing about any thing that comes to mind. [Yes, I want 'any' and 'thing' to be separate words]. I've been depressed and I'm PMS-ing. I'm not as hard up about candy unless I'm pms-ing, and I want peanut butter. It was never chocolate for me, always peanut butter. At the moment it's peanut butter M&Ms, yeah there's chocolate, but it's about the peanut butter. It's usually Reese's Pieces, I know these things.
So I'm in my car, trapped in my traffic, in the Virginia heat [with A/C], and I'm crying and depressed. My friend it telling me it's fine. It's not fine. It's never fine when I cry. Very few of my friends have seen me cry and it's always when I can't put my frustrations into words.
I hate crying. Period.
I dropped him off, came home, and made a 16 oz Cosmopolitan in a water-bottle. I downed it in an hour and rolled around on my bed drunk and doing nothing on the internet until I decided to see Toy Story 3. I have been thinking about not seeing it, but in the long run I had to. It was awesome. I didn't like that the three trailer's before the movie were for 3D flicks, I saw Toy Store in classic 2D and these trailers seemed like those movies weren't going to be distributed in 2D, I assume they will be but we'll see. One of these days on my movie blog I'll put up my opinion about 3D and elaborate on my distaste for it. And if you pop over to my movie blog, you can see my opinion on making pseudo 3D/CGI animated films, as critiqued by the Smurfs movie slated for next year. I also have some ideas about photo-realism, which can fit into that blog but will get it's own, because that owl movie looks creepy (it had human eyes..wtf?!? -ovular-). But, I don't like barn owls, their faces are disturbingly flat, and the movie seems to 'star' a barn owl. Joy. Or it's a masked owl...I don't like the flatter faces. The other things I noticed in the trailers is that there are two animated movies for this summer/fall that seem like they're supposed to be sympathetic to villains. The Will Ferrel one, Mastermind or whatever (...'it's BIG for a reason'...great, penis envy jokes); and the Steve Carell one, Despicable Me (reading this plot, this seems weak. I like the beginning idea, but where it goes, not as much). I think the trailer could be made stronger if the minion characters said the word right, instead of tailoring it to kids, if they broke it down on the screen for the kid to learn the damn word and not having the minion stumble on the word then having the announcer say it correctly.
So, Toy Story 3, fantastic. It was also hella depressing. It was also hella brilliant. I loved the toys that were there in the the day care, I loved how things played out. It was all really well written an animated. I don't want to spoil much, but I do with that more had been done with Bonnie's toys, they were awesome. And great voices all around. I could have gone with the Spanish Buzz joke, it went on a bit too long for me and seemed to be a little contrived, but outside of that bit of nit picking I enjoyed everything. It was written on a kid's level, but was great for adults without it needing to be vulgar, a la Shrek.
Yeah...I came back home and wrote all this out. It's taken me a bit more than an hour. So today was a roller coaster of hell, kind of. But I feel better now that I've written..something! See, crying doesn't help, words do!
Jasmine P.
April 28, 2010
Glossing Over Life
Oh hello there April 28th. My life has been to enh these past few weeks...well, just key days and most nights when the depression hits that so far today hasn't been shit. It has been three years since my mom died in her hospital bed in Reston, VA. It was shit.
I had something that was much more entertaining after I addressed her death, but now I don't feel like going into any of it. I spoke about Nerimon - Alex Day- and the fact that everything I'd written before was much more entertaining as I had been thinking in an English accent...he's English. I lso spoke about plans for next week and going into finals week. And Pringles, I was eating Pringles before. I'd gone on about needing a shower and not wanting my roommate to see me naked, which has happened before, it was awkward. I like the original blog a lot more. I also addressed my possible carpal tunnel, it's a mofo in my left wrist, if I have it. I really don't know. My internet acted up, so I had no draft saved, this bites. I'm making lunch, grits and ham, then I'm working on my fundamentals of drawing and design portfolio.
Jasmine P.
I had something that was much more entertaining after I addressed her death, but now I don't feel like going into any of it. I spoke about Nerimon - Alex Day- and the fact that everything I'd written before was much more entertaining as I had been thinking in an English accent...he's English. I lso spoke about plans for next week and going into finals week. And Pringles, I was eating Pringles before. I'd gone on about needing a shower and not wanting my roommate to see me naked, which has happened before, it was awkward. I like the original blog a lot more. I also addressed my possible carpal tunnel, it's a mofo in my left wrist, if I have it. I really don't know. My internet acted up, so I had no draft saved, this bites. I'm making lunch, grits and ham, then I'm working on my fundamentals of drawing and design portfolio.
Jasmine P.
April 27, 2010
I think I see the bottom
started 11:35pm-12:29am
So, I'm hella depressed. I want yesterday and Friday to return, they were great days. They were pretty happy, relatively carefree. Now I'm just fucking depressed. I'm just about out of money, so I can't buy things which is my usual short term remedy for being depressed. I'm mostly down at the moment because of that. It's a really stupid reason to be depressed, but things are going to change, it seems. I'm going to try to apply at Borjo again, and apply for a loan through campus. Maybe I'll get a few hundred, maybe a thousand or so to help with everything. Life sucks when you're coasting along and them BAM! Shit happens. I know, I've been headed this way since sophomore year, actually, but since it's now aggressively in my face I need to rectify the situation. Why couldn't this have happened next week? If it was next week instead I'd be planning on going home and I'd be able to wallow for a bit instead of wavering in and out. Maannn, this is rough. I almost want to cry, i think I might. My text message ring tone makes me smile. Maybe tomorrow I'll talk to Alex, that should help. It might not. I think I might raid my meager possessions to see what I can sell. I think this might just be an immediate reaction. Hopefully it'll go away soon. I do know I have to cut a few things out, like coffee and cigarettes. No more daily coffee, it'll be once a week, but I'll still hang out there. The people are a good part of why I go to Borjo every day. Fuck, now I'm crying. I want to be a kid again, I want my mother to take care of everything. That can't happen, she's dead. Oh look, it's almost three whole years since the shittiest day of my remembered life. Ugh, I hate this, I'm just whining right now. Seriously, why didn't my brothers withold my money before, when I was but a child?
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I want bliss, I want joy, I want to be loved. I want someone to hug me and love me. I know it probably wouldn't help my full situation all that much, but from where I'm sitting right now, it seems like it would be a fair bit better. I know I'm just imagining the highs of being loved, but it would be a hell of a lot better than me sitting here wallowing in depression.
Man, I talk about Friday, but I haven't really said what happened. I wasn't me, it was amazing. I was at Borjo doing the usual. I happened to see Megan, one of the Sobo bartenders on her way back to the bar, she told me a dj would be there. I haven't been to the bar in a while so I went over. Joe M. was there with some friends, and he was paying for drinks, at least up front, so drinks cost 1/2 as much as usual. I accepted it, free drinks, yo. I meet some friends, Christina, Zack, and Abraham. Christina was druuuunk and pretty damn funny. Zack was a bit of a whiney bitch, but entertaining. I didn't speak with Abe much, he rolled out pretty early. After maybe 45 minutes there Joe decides he want to go to the Boar's Nest. I had no one else to talk to, so I tagged along. I met some other friends and acquaintances there and as I drank my regular self slipped away and I started getting louder and dancing. This one dude, Micah, he was tall, adorable and hella nice to me. I harassed him so much, but he let me. He had the cutest smile when I called him out on that. I had a weak ass apology of 'I wouldn't do this if I was sober' after some of the shit I did, and I did relatively few things I would have if I was sober. I danced, lewdly which was fun. I dropped a lot of ice down his shirt and down the back of his briefs. Coup de gra, I got one down the front of his pants. That was the most amusing one. Some other dude, John I think, had his wrists so he couldn't stop me, then I took his hands to keep him from automatically being able to get the ice. God, I was mean. I grabbed his ass, twice, his reaction was adorable. I told him I thought he was adorable. I should have told him I liked him. I did, I still do. I wish I was less of a coward, worst he would have said was he didn't like me. Best, as far as I'll allow my imagination, I could have gotten a kiss. A drunken kiss, but still a kiss. I got a lot of hugs, and he was willing to hug me every time I asked. Too damn nice. I also tweaked and rubbed a few nipples, I remember that and had Micah pull up his shirt and she me his tattoo, I don't even remember why, I think I was looking for his nipple then. It was great not being me, and kinda horrible at the same time.
I had a delicious drink called a Florida Storm. Vodka, peach schnapps, mango rum/vodka, bitters, grenadine. Maybe something else. It was good, I'd buy it again. It was unbelievable fun to be not me. I can't do that all the time, money aside, I don't like sleeping on the bathroom floor, in case I vomit, or the feeling of drinking too much. My last LOIT was one too much, I've leaned that 7-8 drinks/shots are where I should stop. Now I know for the future. But Friday was still glourious, I felt loved. I felt like someone liked my body, maybe a little, or maybe he liked the attention, I know I loved the attention. For the night, he had my heart, and now he's going home to Kentucky and chances are I'll never see him again. It's probably better that way, I don't know how I could face him sober. I'd probably just pretend most of what I did on Friday didn't happen. From Friday there are some other people I hung out with and enjoyed drunkenly talking to, but I kind of had a little bit of a one track mind so, ah-hem I can't write much about them.
Do I regret Friday, not on my life. Would I do it again, yup. When, maybe at the end of May, maybe later then that, I dunno yet. Have I cheered myself up, you know it! I'll handle the money situation later, but for now I'll go back to my awesome memories of one fantastically no-me night and go to sleep.
Jasmine P.
So, I'm hella depressed. I want yesterday and Friday to return, they were great days. They were pretty happy, relatively carefree. Now I'm just fucking depressed. I'm just about out of money, so I can't buy things which is my usual short term remedy for being depressed. I'm mostly down at the moment because of that. It's a really stupid reason to be depressed, but things are going to change, it seems. I'm going to try to apply at Borjo again, and apply for a loan through campus. Maybe I'll get a few hundred, maybe a thousand or so to help with everything. Life sucks when you're coasting along and them BAM! Shit happens. I know, I've been headed this way since sophomore year, actually, but since it's now aggressively in my face I need to rectify the situation. Why couldn't this have happened next week? If it was next week instead I'd be planning on going home and I'd be able to wallow for a bit instead of wavering in and out. Maannn, this is rough. I almost want to cry, i think I might. My text message ring tone makes me smile. Maybe tomorrow I'll talk to Alex, that should help. It might not. I think I might raid my meager possessions to see what I can sell. I think this might just be an immediate reaction. Hopefully it'll go away soon. I do know I have to cut a few things out, like coffee and cigarettes. No more daily coffee, it'll be once a week, but I'll still hang out there. The people are a good part of why I go to Borjo every day. Fuck, now I'm crying. I want to be a kid again, I want my mother to take care of everything. That can't happen, she's dead. Oh look, it's almost three whole years since the shittiest day of my remembered life. Ugh, I hate this, I'm just whining right now. Seriously, why didn't my brothers withold my money before, when I was but a child?
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I want bliss, I want joy, I want to be loved. I want someone to hug me and love me. I know it probably wouldn't help my full situation all that much, but from where I'm sitting right now, it seems like it would be a fair bit better. I know I'm just imagining the highs of being loved, but it would be a hell of a lot better than me sitting here wallowing in depression.
Man, I talk about Friday, but I haven't really said what happened. I wasn't me, it was amazing. I was at Borjo doing the usual. I happened to see Megan, one of the Sobo bartenders on her way back to the bar, she told me a dj would be there. I haven't been to the bar in a while so I went over. Joe M. was there with some friends, and he was paying for drinks, at least up front, so drinks cost 1/2 as much as usual. I accepted it, free drinks, yo. I meet some friends, Christina, Zack, and Abraham. Christina was druuuunk and pretty damn funny. Zack was a bit of a whiney bitch, but entertaining. I didn't speak with Abe much, he rolled out pretty early. After maybe 45 minutes there Joe decides he want to go to the Boar's Nest. I had no one else to talk to, so I tagged along. I met some other friends and acquaintances there and as I drank my regular self slipped away and I started getting louder and dancing. This one dude, Micah, he was tall, adorable and hella nice to me. I harassed him so much, but he let me. He had the cutest smile when I called him out on that. I had a weak ass apology of 'I wouldn't do this if I was sober' after some of the shit I did, and I did relatively few things I would have if I was sober. I danced, lewdly which was fun. I dropped a lot of ice down his shirt and down the back of his briefs. Coup de gra, I got one down the front of his pants. That was the most amusing one. Some other dude, John I think, had his wrists so he couldn't stop me, then I took his hands to keep him from automatically being able to get the ice. God, I was mean. I grabbed his ass, twice, his reaction was adorable. I told him I thought he was adorable. I should have told him I liked him. I did, I still do. I wish I was less of a coward, worst he would have said was he didn't like me. Best, as far as I'll allow my imagination, I could have gotten a kiss. A drunken kiss, but still a kiss. I got a lot of hugs, and he was willing to hug me every time I asked. Too damn nice. I also tweaked and rubbed a few nipples, I remember that and had Micah pull up his shirt and she me his tattoo, I don't even remember why, I think I was looking for his nipple then. It was great not being me, and kinda horrible at the same time.
I had a delicious drink called a Florida Storm. Vodka, peach schnapps, mango rum/vodka, bitters, grenadine. Maybe something else. It was good, I'd buy it again. It was unbelievable fun to be not me. I can't do that all the time, money aside, I don't like sleeping on the bathroom floor, in case I vomit, or the feeling of drinking too much. My last LOIT was one too much, I've leaned that 7-8 drinks/shots are where I should stop. Now I know for the future. But Friday was still glourious, I felt loved. I felt like someone liked my body, maybe a little, or maybe he liked the attention, I know I loved the attention. For the night, he had my heart, and now he's going home to Kentucky and chances are I'll never see him again. It's probably better that way, I don't know how I could face him sober. I'd probably just pretend most of what I did on Friday didn't happen. From Friday there are some other people I hung out with and enjoyed drunkenly talking to, but I kind of had a little bit of a one track mind so, ah-hem I can't write much about them.
Do I regret Friday, not on my life. Would I do it again, yup. When, maybe at the end of May, maybe later then that, I dunno yet. Have I cheered myself up, you know it! I'll handle the money situation later, but for now I'll go back to my awesome memories of one fantastically no-me night and go to sleep.
Jasmine P.
April 3, 2010
Some Thoughts on Religion
This past Thursday I kind of attempted to explain my thoughts on religion to a Christian friend of mine. It was difficult because I didn't want to sounds disrespectful of religion but at the same time I was attempting to explain, sort of, why I don't really prescribe to any "religion".
I was raised primarily attending a Protestant church, Heritage Fellowship United Church of Christ. With my father I'd attend a Catholic church, and when we visited my Grandmother if we went to church it was to Moravian church. I was an usher for my church, I participated in Sunday School and went to Bible Camp in the summer. I was an active enough member and helped with some outreach programs that were both religious and not religiously motivated.
I was raised Christian.
Since my mother died I stopped going to church, mostly because she was the one taking me. Church was also getting annoying because I was really getting tired of people's sympathy, there was more to my short life of 18 years than my mother's death. I didn't want to hear condolences. I tell people my mom 'died' because outside of that and saying she is 'deceased' it sounds like you're trying to soften the blow. The moment she died, I grew up. In some way. In many ways I was still a child, but as far as the death of someone close to me, I had handled it. I didn't need to go to God to find answers because science had provided them. A random mutation gave her lymphoma. Chemotherapy and medication ruined her body, she was dead. She's not 'lost', hasn't 'passed on', she's not 'gone' or whatever 'kind' words people use. She was dead, I accepted it and I don't like other people bringing it up. It's one thing if I were to initiate the conversation, it's another when I'd hear every time they saw me 'how are you doing?' or 'is everything okay?' I was tired of the compassion, I had things to do such as graduating and getting onto college. I mourned in my own way which involved dwelling, writing and drawing. A deity had nothing to do with it. I didn't pray, I meditated and decided it was better with her dead. She wasn't in pain, and I'd rather her be dead and a memory then a constant depressing reminder of just how fucked up death can be. Daily visits to a hospital to sit next to the body of my mother who was barely able to do more than listen was not fun. It was fucking depressing. My senior year of high school got fucked over. Things were different, difficult and easier with her dead. I can see no reason why she would have to die, but shit happens and you move on.
I can almost guarantee I'd be more fucked up and depressed if I tried to pin her death on God.
A few years later and more sciences classes that gave me more answers about the world in general than the Bible had, I decided I was Agnostic. The way I understood it, there was some sort of deity out there, maybe God, maybe gods, maybe something else. Some time later I heard of Deism, and how I understand it, some deity started everything then fucked off. I believe in science, I believe in what's tangible.
Tangible (adj); capable of being perceived especially by the sense of touch; : capable of being precisely identified or realized by the mind; capable of being appraised at an actual or approximate value.
As a kid I understood the word 'tangible' to mean something that could be seen or felt. You can't see wind but you can feel it. You can rationalize it, it affects things. Think carefully, you can't see glass or water when either is without imperfections. You see light reflected off of it, you can feel either. I understand God to be intangible. Things happen because God deems it necessary. It's blasphemous to question God. Why? The world I prefer is one where questioning things isn't just allowed, but encouraged.
With everything I have said I have yet to address my opinion of other people and their following of religion. I say 'believe what you want to'. As long as someone isn't attempting to force me to follow their beliefs, I don't care what they believe. I may think their beliefs sound a little stupid, or impractical; I may feel negatively about them, but as long as they don't try to force it on my, whatever floats their boat and finds their lost remote. If it makes you happy, so be it. If I seem happy or unhappy let me work it out myself. Don't tell me that some deity that I can't see nor truly speak to will give me the answers I desire. I can come to my own conclusion well enough.
---
In thinking about religion I have thought about what it answers and contemplated why it exists. I think that as humanoid and humanity developed and evolved they questioned the world around them. Unable to understand it they decided that there was something they couldn't see and gave it various attributes. By saying that an all powerful being, or a group of all powerful beings controlled things, early humans felt more at ease with the world deciding they knew something. In our modern society there I think some people feel at ease having an answer to life, or having a guidance for life. I think that some people like believing that there's more to life than eating, sleeping and procreation.
I have decided on my own rules. My rules for life are to over all be a good person. Don't impede others, don't let them impede you. And accomplish something. In general, accomplish something positive. Why do I think this way, I dunno. Maybe it's some residual from when I went to church. My difference is there isn't any consequence for not being a good person. When you die, you're dead. I like the afterlife shown in the movie and book What Dreams May Come. It cheered me up after my mom died because people could look how they wanted, they could be reincarnated they chose and it was like life-plus. There was no point, everything just was and people were comfortable with it. I live working towards what I want to do with my life and I'm happy this way. I'm not trying to please some deity I can't directly interact with, and I don't care to try to dispel someone else's beliefs. To adapt one of my favorite quotes "I disagree with what you believe, but I defend your right to the death to believe it." I may not care to listen or to debate, but keep on trucking.
Jasmine P.
I was raised primarily attending a Protestant church, Heritage Fellowship United Church of Christ. With my father I'd attend a Catholic church, and when we visited my Grandmother if we went to church it was to Moravian church. I was an usher for my church, I participated in Sunday School and went to Bible Camp in the summer. I was an active enough member and helped with some outreach programs that were both religious and not religiously motivated.
I was raised Christian.
Since my mother died I stopped going to church, mostly because she was the one taking me. Church was also getting annoying because I was really getting tired of people's sympathy, there was more to my short life of 18 years than my mother's death. I didn't want to hear condolences. I tell people my mom 'died' because outside of that and saying she is 'deceased' it sounds like you're trying to soften the blow. The moment she died, I grew up. In some way. In many ways I was still a child, but as far as the death of someone close to me, I had handled it. I didn't need to go to God to find answers because science had provided them. A random mutation gave her lymphoma. Chemotherapy and medication ruined her body, she was dead. She's not 'lost', hasn't 'passed on', she's not 'gone' or whatever 'kind' words people use. She was dead, I accepted it and I don't like other people bringing it up. It's one thing if I were to initiate the conversation, it's another when I'd hear every time they saw me 'how are you doing?' or 'is everything okay?' I was tired of the compassion, I had things to do such as graduating and getting onto college. I mourned in my own way which involved dwelling, writing and drawing. A deity had nothing to do with it. I didn't pray, I meditated and decided it was better with her dead. She wasn't in pain, and I'd rather her be dead and a memory then a constant depressing reminder of just how fucked up death can be. Daily visits to a hospital to sit next to the body of my mother who was barely able to do more than listen was not fun. It was fucking depressing. My senior year of high school got fucked over. Things were different, difficult and easier with her dead. I can see no reason why she would have to die, but shit happens and you move on.
I can almost guarantee I'd be more fucked up and depressed if I tried to pin her death on God.
A few years later and more sciences classes that gave me more answers about the world in general than the Bible had, I decided I was Agnostic. The way I understood it, there was some sort of deity out there, maybe God, maybe gods, maybe something else. Some time later I heard of Deism, and how I understand it, some deity started everything then fucked off. I believe in science, I believe in what's tangible.
Tangible (adj); capable of being perceived especially by the sense of touch; : capable of being precisely identified or realized by the mind; capable of being appraised at an actual or approximate value.
As a kid I understood the word 'tangible' to mean something that could be seen or felt. You can't see wind but you can feel it. You can rationalize it, it affects things. Think carefully, you can't see glass or water when either is without imperfections. You see light reflected off of it, you can feel either. I understand God to be intangible. Things happen because God deems it necessary. It's blasphemous to question God. Why? The world I prefer is one where questioning things isn't just allowed, but encouraged.
With everything I have said I have yet to address my opinion of other people and their following of religion. I say 'believe what you want to'. As long as someone isn't attempting to force me to follow their beliefs, I don't care what they believe. I may think their beliefs sound a little stupid, or impractical; I may feel negatively about them, but as long as they don't try to force it on my, whatever floats their boat and finds their lost remote. If it makes you happy, so be it. If I seem happy or unhappy let me work it out myself. Don't tell me that some deity that I can't see nor truly speak to will give me the answers I desire. I can come to my own conclusion well enough.
---
In thinking about religion I have thought about what it answers and contemplated why it exists. I think that as humanoid and humanity developed and evolved they questioned the world around them. Unable to understand it they decided that there was something they couldn't see and gave it various attributes. By saying that an all powerful being, or a group of all powerful beings controlled things, early humans felt more at ease with the world deciding they knew something. In our modern society there I think some people feel at ease having an answer to life, or having a guidance for life. I think that some people like believing that there's more to life than eating, sleeping and procreation.
I have decided on my own rules. My rules for life are to over all be a good person. Don't impede others, don't let them impede you. And accomplish something. In general, accomplish something positive. Why do I think this way, I dunno. Maybe it's some residual from when I went to church. My difference is there isn't any consequence for not being a good person. When you die, you're dead. I like the afterlife shown in the movie and book What Dreams May Come. It cheered me up after my mom died because people could look how they wanted, they could be reincarnated they chose and it was like life-plus. There was no point, everything just was and people were comfortable with it. I live working towards what I want to do with my life and I'm happy this way. I'm not trying to please some deity I can't directly interact with, and I don't care to try to dispel someone else's beliefs. To adapt one of my favorite quotes "I disagree with what you believe, but I defend your right to the death to believe it." I may not care to listen or to debate, but keep on trucking.
Jasmine P.
November 27, 2009
Nothing Ever Changes
It's never fair. I'm not super happy right now, I rarely get what I want. Yes, a new phone is nice, but I did ask for an mp3 player. I don't come home because I can't deal with my brother. Either he decides to be pissy over something I've barely done, or I get angry with him. It's not healthy, and it's not right. I don't like coming home, not just because of the trip, but I never feel respected. I was the one with the remote, I had the choice of what to watch on tv. When we were younger I never said anything. I'm tired of acquiescing. I have the right to watch what I want to on my own or with other people. I should be respected. I am not respected by my eldest brother. I don't know what I feel right now, but I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of being depressed and feeling like no one respects me.
Yes, I understand you're going to work in an hour. So what if I'll be able to watch TV for the rest of the day, I wasn't planning on it, I was planning on getting out. I was planning on having fun and being happy. This day can turn around, but right now it sucks. I don't say anything because I knew he wouldn't understand. I wasn't talking about today or now. I was talking about before. Things change but they mostly stay the same. Yes, I do think about you. I put myself is places or not in places because I want to stay happy and because it's for you.
You make things too fucking difficult. You're too much of a wild card. I try one thing you take it the wrong way. But seriously. It's fucking television. I don't have cable, I don't spend my time watching TV or playing video games. I don't because I don't have it. Coming home's a treat because there are things here that I don't have in Norfolk. You make me not like being home, I don't like coming back to Reston because things in the house suck. You fucking smoke weed all the goddamn time, I never say anything. I never said a damned word when I heard you and your girlfriend having sex. When I come home and we're eating I next to never say a word about whatever's on TV, I'll watch it, or I go away because I don't like it.
That's my problem, I stay quiet too much, I never say anything. Maybe I'll start speaking up more, maybe that will make me happy. I always talk big when I write, but nothing ever changes. But I try. I try valiently, in my opinion, to roll with whatever happens. I try not to let him get to me. But in this instance I can remember them not like That 70's Show all that much and my wanting to watch it. Now it's not so much that I didn't want to watch it, I wanted the choice of watching it or not.
I'm also annoyed because I did so much work yesterday. He had next to nothing. He made cornbread, and he put the dishes in the dishwasher. He took a nap after doing nothing to help. I on the other hand, made sweet potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, a turkey, a ham, mashed potatoes. My other brother made macaroni and cheese, stuffing and string beans. I did the heaving lifting, they barely said 'thank you'. I am so fucking under-appreciated. I feel that way if it's not the case.
I feel unloved. I don't feel like anybody really loves me. I know they both care, but really, how much would change if I didn't come home? We never do anything all together, I come home to see my friends. I always say things about 'the three of us' it feels more like it's 'the two of them, plus me'. As an adult, I'm still a hanger-on. I felt more welcome or appreciated when my brother's friend was here yesterday. Then I felt alone in a crowd. I want to disappear and not tell them where I go, see how much they care. Seriously, were I to drop off the face of the earth, would they care? I saw not him so much. More out of obligation than real caring.
Once I was angry I didn't care. Back the what started this I might have chosen 'That 70's Show' to watch anyway. That's the retarted part. Give me the chance to see what's on first. I don't get respected and it upsets me. I want to be loved, feel like someone loves me, cares about me. More than that, I want to feel respected. He was too dense to even notice that I said that I bet. I try to stay happy, content. I try so damned hard.
I'm fucking tired of crying, I'm tired of being depressed. I damn near want to hop in the car and go back to Norfolk today, after I finish my laundry. I'd be alone, and I'd have Borjo. I'd have people who aren't my brothers. I'd have my independence back, I'd feel like an adult. I'm independent here, I feel like and adult but I'd have respect. I would be respected in my own domicile, I'd have people to chit-chat with. I wasn't alone in the house yesterday, but for the better part of the day I was alone. Between 9am and about 9pm it was me in the kitchen. The guys made and appearance, then went to the basement, one of them was around for about the hour. The other barely did anything.
I damn near want to find a bar to escape to, but drinking alone in the epitome of lame and depression. I'm tired of being alone.
I'm tired of so much shit. I think it's time to take a shower, venture out to a coffee shop with a book, but on a day like today, trying to find a comfortable Borjo like atmosphere would be that much more difficult. But an adventure could clear the head and cheer me up.
Why do I make fewer typos when I'm upset?
Jasmine P.
Yes, I understand you're going to work in an hour. So what if I'll be able to watch TV for the rest of the day, I wasn't planning on it, I was planning on getting out. I was planning on having fun and being happy. This day can turn around, but right now it sucks. I don't say anything because I knew he wouldn't understand. I wasn't talking about today or now. I was talking about before. Things change but they mostly stay the same. Yes, I do think about you. I put myself is places or not in places because I want to stay happy and because it's for you.
You make things too fucking difficult. You're too much of a wild card. I try one thing you take it the wrong way. But seriously. It's fucking television. I don't have cable, I don't spend my time watching TV or playing video games. I don't because I don't have it. Coming home's a treat because there are things here that I don't have in Norfolk. You make me not like being home, I don't like coming back to Reston because things in the house suck. You fucking smoke weed all the goddamn time, I never say anything. I never said a damned word when I heard you and your girlfriend having sex. When I come home and we're eating I next to never say a word about whatever's on TV, I'll watch it, or I go away because I don't like it.
That's my problem, I stay quiet too much, I never say anything. Maybe I'll start speaking up more, maybe that will make me happy. I always talk big when I write, but nothing ever changes. But I try. I try valiently, in my opinion, to roll with whatever happens. I try not to let him get to me. But in this instance I can remember them not like That 70's Show all that much and my wanting to watch it. Now it's not so much that I didn't want to watch it, I wanted the choice of watching it or not.
I'm also annoyed because I did so much work yesterday. He had next to nothing. He made cornbread, and he put the dishes in the dishwasher. He took a nap after doing nothing to help. I on the other hand, made sweet potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, a turkey, a ham, mashed potatoes. My other brother made macaroni and cheese, stuffing and string beans. I did the heaving lifting, they barely said 'thank you'. I am so fucking under-appreciated. I feel that way if it's not the case.
I feel unloved. I don't feel like anybody really loves me. I know they both care, but really, how much would change if I didn't come home? We never do anything all together, I come home to see my friends. I always say things about 'the three of us' it feels more like it's 'the two of them, plus me'. As an adult, I'm still a hanger-on. I felt more welcome or appreciated when my brother's friend was here yesterday. Then I felt alone in a crowd. I want to disappear and not tell them where I go, see how much they care. Seriously, were I to drop off the face of the earth, would they care? I saw not him so much. More out of obligation than real caring.
Once I was angry I didn't care. Back the what started this I might have chosen 'That 70's Show' to watch anyway. That's the retarted part. Give me the chance to see what's on first. I don't get respected and it upsets me. I want to be loved, feel like someone loves me, cares about me. More than that, I want to feel respected. He was too dense to even notice that I said that I bet. I try to stay happy, content. I try so damned hard.
I'm fucking tired of crying, I'm tired of being depressed. I damn near want to hop in the car and go back to Norfolk today, after I finish my laundry. I'd be alone, and I'd have Borjo. I'd have people who aren't my brothers. I'd have my independence back, I'd feel like an adult. I'm independent here, I feel like and adult but I'd have respect. I would be respected in my own domicile, I'd have people to chit-chat with. I wasn't alone in the house yesterday, but for the better part of the day I was alone. Between 9am and about 9pm it was me in the kitchen. The guys made and appearance, then went to the basement, one of them was around for about the hour. The other barely did anything.
I damn near want to find a bar to escape to, but drinking alone in the epitome of lame and depression. I'm tired of being alone.
I'm tired of so much shit. I think it's time to take a shower, venture out to a coffee shop with a book, but on a day like today, trying to find a comfortable Borjo like atmosphere would be that much more difficult. But an adventure could clear the head and cheer me up.
Why do I make fewer typos when I'm upset?
Jasmine P.
November 22, 2009
My Evening
Well, these past 12 hours have been interesting. I spent a few hours reading and in general hanging around Borjo. That was fun, I doodled some, Dan asked, so I drew him, Brian and Jennifer. It was an aright sketch, I'll take a photo of it later when I'm back there so I have a copy of it.
I went over to SoBo, a pizza and bar, where there was a benefit concert for another employee of Borjo who was injured back over the summer. I spent my night hanging with the Borjo crowd. I do like them. I learned a lot about one of them and really met Rob's wife. She's nice.
Wow, I thought I had more to write, but details about things are not mine to share, and sober, they might not have been told. I dunno. I was quiet, dealing in a social depression. I was depressed in a social setting, but I kept hanging out with people because I knew I wasn't going to fall asleep. I'm not really tired, it sucks. I'll try to sleep once I'm done with this, but it might not happen too soon which is lame. We'll see.
From SoBo I hung out with Brian and Bones at a hookah bar. I drove them because even thought I did drink at SoBo, I was sober for at least an hour before we left. We smoked a little and they danced. I watched and was very internally quiet. That's why I dislike being depressed, I get quiet. That which normally runs at a mile a minute was moving a picasecond a year. I did talk with Bones, explained why I was depressed, a friendly ear was nice. I chatted with another fellow who apparently frequents Borjo, named Gerard. He was interesting.
Sometimes I wish I could make a stronger connection to someone my own age, most of the time they're years older than I am, but I can hold my on in a serious conversation. I dunno, depression is a mother fucker. I'm a bit more tired since I'm on my own, it's that nice sort of morning silence, and I don't really have any stimulation.
With that little voice off my recounting my night isn't all that interesting. Normally I'd've described what I drank and talk more about people I met and the experience, but not tonight. Let's write more over these next few days, something should come out of it.
Jasmine P.
I went over to SoBo, a pizza and bar, where there was a benefit concert for another employee of Borjo who was injured back over the summer. I spent my night hanging with the Borjo crowd. I do like them. I learned a lot about one of them and really met Rob's wife. She's nice.
Wow, I thought I had more to write, but details about things are not mine to share, and sober, they might not have been told. I dunno. I was quiet, dealing in a social depression. I was depressed in a social setting, but I kept hanging out with people because I knew I wasn't going to fall asleep. I'm not really tired, it sucks. I'll try to sleep once I'm done with this, but it might not happen too soon which is lame. We'll see.
From SoBo I hung out with Brian and Bones at a hookah bar. I drove them because even thought I did drink at SoBo, I was sober for at least an hour before we left. We smoked a little and they danced. I watched and was very internally quiet. That's why I dislike being depressed, I get quiet. That which normally runs at a mile a minute was moving a picasecond a year. I did talk with Bones, explained why I was depressed, a friendly ear was nice. I chatted with another fellow who apparently frequents Borjo, named Gerard. He was interesting.
Sometimes I wish I could make a stronger connection to someone my own age, most of the time they're years older than I am, but I can hold my on in a serious conversation. I dunno, depression is a mother fucker. I'm a bit more tired since I'm on my own, it's that nice sort of morning silence, and I don't really have any stimulation.
With that little voice off my recounting my night isn't all that interesting. Normally I'd've described what I drank and talk more about people I met and the experience, but not tonight. Let's write more over these next few days, something should come out of it.
Jasmine P.
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