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Got back from Chicago yesterday. It kind of sucks to be home. I missed my kitties though. I can't find my fucking USB tho so no pix until further notice.

Queenie's cats were an acceptable substitute for mine, minus ~lil blaque~ who is a fucking bitch. HELL NAW THAT BEEF AIN'T SQUASHED HOE. Doof is cute and awesome though and cuddles with me when the rest of the world ignores me. We took what is called a "belmont walk of shame" which I still don't understand, I'm guessing it is the Chicago equivalent of a Little 5 walk of shame. We went to the dungeon w/ Tosh to get Queenie's shit because she quit her domme job and we had to get her belongings that they were keeping hostage. I put on my best "SOMEONE SHOULDA TOLD U" face in order to intimidate them and their pimpstress ways but it didn't really work out that well because they're all masculine, mean, 6'3, and force people to piss on people or something.

We went to Wicker Park which is hipsters, ugly Ukrainians, and Silent Hill house or something. Here, I raped the shit out of my bank account $$$$$fuk what ya hurd$$$$$. I got a cupcake that is actually soap and I doubt I will ever use it because its too cute.

Kweenz bfff Alex came over and gave me shrooms. I was trippin LITE and saw peacock doof, little elephants stomping into Carthage, giant bugs, and giant knives on the ceiling fan. Then I woke up kinda and met the shenis goddess and had Indian food.

More Indian food with Tosh next day. A creepy black lady with a mouth that made it look like she had no teeth but actually did asked if you could have my hair and I was all UHHHHHHHHHHHH. Then, Octopus Project + lol'd at bros, cocoa butter thighs, big beefy, aspies, and "little bro." Members of little bro's crew referred to me as a midget but it's okay because he totally got served by Tosh who asked him if he was one and apparently he was wearing pants from wet seal. Looked at shit on ice chewing forums and a bouncer told me that all compulsions were irrational and stupid when I attempted to leave the venue with a cup of ice. Then our quest to find the best ice in Chicago was derailed. Tosh asked the internet if the real Chris Ding would please stand up and was not friended back by any of them.

Next day, me + kweenz went to Chinatown. I got cheap presents for my parents, awwww'd at baby turtles, displayed MAD GRIME after getting noodles, and lol'd at asian tweens. I tried to overdraw my account on purpose because cash flow was low but faggot ATM would not comply. After this we got shitty coffee because Indian people are stupid. We went to the beach and witnessed epic booty tap, experienced deep morose calais, saw sand dicks and creepy gay beach dwellers. It was cold and gay but idc because U DON'T KNO ME.

We spent most nights on youtube and trolling Queenie's ex, Brennan, who is mad into the Calais. We asked, "U MAD?" and never received a response so my guess that yes, he mad. I trolled stupid jailbird so hard after internet fighting with him the previous night due to some snitching related dramas back home. He deleted me FUCK YEAH. Nigga, I don't delete hoes, they delete ME. lol at irls taking the internet seriously. I'm glad that I managed to alienate some people here from a distance so I don't have to be around them now. I am enjoying drowning in my own blood thx.

I rode the train to the airport by myselfs and saw chongas, the female Chris Ding, and more stupid Indians. Dozin' and industrial wasteland awesomeness. I finally got to purposely overdraw my account at the airport so double rape to my bank account. Prty gay because I only work 3 days this week. I read parts of Spring Snow and wished I was in an elegant Japanese garden rather than sandwiched in between an Asian bitch wearing running shoes and an average looking Mexican in a wifebeater who constantly reapplied a shade of lipstick that did not suit her. I couldn't nap on the plane because planes freak me out so I was in complete agony for a few hours. Next thing I knew, I was chillin fresh in A-TOWN where it was 90 degrees and I was still wearing my sweater purchased in the midwest. whaaat

I don't know what it is. Whenever I'm in the suburbs, I think to myself, "The suburbs are bringin' me down maaaan." And then I'm in the city and I think, "Aw shit. The city is bringin' me down maaan." So whatever, dirty souf til I die.

It's December and I am able to walk around outside with an undersized short sleeved shirt, cropped pants, and no socks. lol, bipolar GA weather. btw there are like a million wiggers/latino gangstas trying to add me on myspace. HALP

k, so the plagiarism thing is cleared up and my teacher realized I didn't do it......but I ended up getting a 66 on the paper which is a failing grade. lol it's not so bad because I kind of expected it. The comments she left on my paper were exactly how I guessed they would be. It's always the same everywhere all the time. "this is very interesting your writing is good but there's not enough organization and you didn't neccessarily tell me what it all MEANS you barely did any research etc." Well yeah, I did wait until the day it was due until I actually started on it and didn't finish until she gave me an extension and even then, I barely worked on it. I'm not too bummed about it but the incident is somewhat representative of a bunch of other shit that's been bugging me, relating to school and ~real lyfe~ in general. Often, I feel like I'm good at something and I am but the problem is I'm not capable of the organization and structure that the ~establishment~ requires of me. Which sucks because I want to do well in "regular people" shit as in getting a respectable job, learning to drive well, paying bills, having casual detached relationships with people BUT I can't because I'm TOO FUCKING MUCH and ~the man can't tame me~. It's weird because I'm such a passive, quiet person with a generally polite demeanor but I get a lot of flack for being rude and sometimes overfriendly/overstepping "boundaries" in terms of what I'm allowed to say. Sure, I can be some type of crazy unstructured raving lunatic with some sort of intelligent things to say but I want a normal life too. It's mostly lame because all of the "skills" and "intelligence" I'm equipped with can't purchase what I truly want, which is to be able to walk the straight and narrow without being some regular ugly bitch automaton i.e. being able to control my mental facilities. I have writing but I'm not so great at that. Life experience really is neccessary if you want to write well because I think I have something awesome but then I run into trouble because I don't know the names of car parts. If there's anything that watching that awful Basquiat movie taught me, it's that whatever you produce is the sum of everything you are, no matter how detached you want to be from it as in "this isn't catharsis i'm trying to complete a linear objective here." so um yeah that's prty gay

I think a lot of people like me, people who are considered "characters," aren't truly crazy or schizoid or anything like that. A lot of us simply understand the futility of asserting the "truth" about who we actually are because no matter how close you get to another person, you'll never really understand their heart. I do rely on hyperbole and self-dramatization a lot, sure because I'm a bit narcissistic just like everyone else is but also because I feel like there's so much to me that whenever anyone learns or realizes something about me, it's simply a slivered one-dimensional anecdote that can be made to mean wild and strange things depending on the perspective of a certain person and what they want to bend it to mean. So why not manipulate? Everything, even the most outwardly solid, is simply an idea. The only problem is that the more outragerous and exaggerated you appear to be as a human being, the more you distance yourself emotionally from the masses, who generally prefer to be as honest as they understand honest to be. Many of them are so fervidly obsessed by "realness" and whether someone is being "fake" to them but it doesn't make a difference to me. No one owes it to anyone else to tell them the entire truth all the time unless he/she loves that person. Honesty is only important if its meaning is understood properly and since I bend and wield every sensation or thought, nothing really matters to me. Idealistically, I can just say that lying is my way of sublimating feelings that are too dangerous or likely to be misunderstood because they could not possibly exist in their most pure and raw form. I know that everything I do, from staying silent when I shouldn't or coming off as cold, is simply something that I probably, subconsiously, understand will ensure survival in some form or another. I know that most people don't want to deal with depressives or people with odd habits and would rather ridicule and write us off and that's fine because 90% of the time, I have no desire to even bother. But being a recluse blurs a lot of shit and I just need to confirm that "mentally stable" people actually exist. I want to know, like really know, that there's more to the world than just people like me and that everyone is complex and not just some unimportant dumbass but most of the time I just get shut out and have to keep using my imagination.

Yeah, I do wear a fuckload of make-up and say weird shit, sometimes completely disregarding my dignity and privacy in order to secure the completion of a good joke or an occurence to further establish the character I created. Who cares? I can sleep well knowing that all of the "serious" or "personal" information that people possess, to swap or pass around like they do with themselves, have been molded to resemble a fucking caricature that I created just for entertainment purposes. I do get a bit of satisfaction from leaving people with exaggerated or inexplicable pieces. Having a mystique is nice, a personal one. Obscuring everything, even insigificant happenings, is just so liberating because the only things you can stir in others are speculative. but w/e maybe it's just because I'm so MYSTERIOUS and that leaves people with the promise that I'll turn out to be an endless matrix of CREEPY AND WEIRD and they'll realize all of this when I explode one day in an epic incident of unparelleled glory. i guess

oh no a serious (lol somewhat) post about my problemz, sorry you guys!

lol internet psychologist. But seriously, I think I have body dysmorphic disorder. Mentally, I probably think its that as well as depression and selective mutism but they all seem to fit well with one another that its not far-fetched for me to claim that I have all of them. Oh, all of this angst ~plaguez~ me is so vast, ambiguous, and heavy that I have no other way to classify and understand it. I hate being ugly. I h8 myself.

I can't leave the fucking house because I'm ugly, everyone obviously thinks/knows I'm ugly, and there's no way around that. Either that or i'm so transparent that everyone can see how truly fucked up and vile I am on the inside. I hate my body. Not so much because it is repulsive looking (it is but that is beside the point) but because it doesn't function properly and i don't fucking understand it. I'm terrified of drugs (besides robo) because who knows what will happen? I'm disgusting something horrible will. I always have this bad dream about my internal organs liquefying and oozing out of every hole on my body murk and ooze urrghh, just violently being removed from my body, sometimes I think I'm in too much pain but then i decide its all psychosomatic, so it can be fixed or maybe that is why it can't I DON'T KNOW! No doubt I've become much fatter, sometimes I still feel so wispy and gauzy I suppose this is an example of my DOOMED WOMAN incubator looking in and recognizing the ~labyrinth~ of life and futility of trying to strive toward the divine because you know the ugly truth because you are the ugly truth, this is why you just "are" and you don't strive towards anything, YOU cannot truly feel the struggle, you are the struggle, instrument, satan, etc.

My NEGATIVITY extends to my behavior in regards to "my mind" which is supposed to be a totally ~private realm~ that nothing can fucking penetrate (except maybe a bullet HAHA), I can't even fucking masturb8 properly anymore guys what do I do. but that's okay somehow. now I can be elevated to asexual sainthood AWESOME