The Day I Forgot Everything

I had a moment the other night while I was taking off a pair of wet leggings (I had water splashed on me). My brain hiccuped and tumbled backwards into the realm of under-developmental cognitive ability. I switched off for a moment or two while the little people in my head desperately tried to reboot the system, but apparently they fucked up and left me in Under-Developed Land.

I tried to continue on with what I was doing, but I forgot how to take off clothes. There was a weird, yet completely plausible, logic in my head that allowed me to believe that it was possible to remove the leggings by pulling them up over my head or out through my arms. And so I tried. 

I looked like a derp-machine.

The only other person in the room was my cat. And if she could talk the conversation might have gone like this:

Cat: what the hell are you doing?

Me: undressing. 

Cat: by giving yourself a wedgie *deadpan cat condescending-face*

Me: this usually works, I don’t get why it isn’t now. 

Cat: *watches me struggle* you’re going to rip them.

Me: pssh…no I’m not. 

*riiiiiiip*

Cat: *very matter of fact* you ripped them.

Me: *looks bewildered*

Cat: *rolls eyes and saunters off*

Eventually my brain managed another system reboot and all went back to normal. I was mildly embarrassed, but since my cat couldn’t talk and relay the escapade to the roommates I was golden. 

On a related note, in regards to brain function, I am sitting here at work, at my desk, at this very moment trying to concentrate. My mind will not sit still. She is misbehaving. Again. She is firing every single neuron in random chaotic patterns, like a symphonic explosion of glitter. And when that mental image fades, my head starts to bubble like Alka-Seltzer in a glass of water. I close my eyes to reclaim some sense of peace, BUT NO, there is a multicolored light show of images fast forwarding behind my eyelids. 

Imagine this on repeat (sans music)

 

Ain’t that the truth. I am at the mercy of neurotic brainwaves. 

The Artistic Bullet Wound

As promised, I have gotten to the point of this blog, I plan to share my more upsetting and perhaps embarrassing entries that were originally written in the Burn Book. For some clarification, when I say embarrassing, I don’t mean “Omg I totally have a crush on this guy”, I mean I feel nervous about exposing how my mind works. Even now  I’m freaking out. I don’t enjoy being teased (which is, I guess, what I think is going to happen). Then again, that’s the whole purpose of this, I’m trying to overcome my fears and take criticism and comments alike. It’s my therapy blog. 

Today’s entry comes in no particular order. In fact I was leafing through the book trying to find one that seemed a bit tame, or at least something that I could get behind. I needed a good starter, not something completely overwhelming. There have been some posts that made me grimace. I didn’t think those would have been a good opening number. You should never start the performance off with your best act. 

I remember writing this entry after coming home from the dentist (a different dentist than the one I saw yesterday). I was getting fitted for a night guard because I had been suffering lots of stress and it was causing me to clench my teeth, which is turn gave me terrible headaches. The dentist was an elderly man. I had never been to him before and since my regular doctor was unavailable I decided to see him.

I’m sorry, I had to pause for a moment. I knew what happens next and that little voice in my head was screaming at me to disconnect. For a moment or two I did, completely shut down. Like C3PO switching off in Star Wars (that scene in Obi Wan’s hut with Luke, R2D2 and Princess Leia’s message).

I got into the chair and told him what was bothering me. For awhile things were pretty dentist-office-visit-standard. As he was fitting me for the mouth guard, I was laying almost completely horizontal in the chair. The dentist “casually” brushed his fingers up and down my leg, or gripped me just above the knee with the majority of his hand far to close to my inner thigh area and “caress” my face. 

I wanted so desperately to react, to smack his hands away and scream. But I shut down, as I always do. Every time this had happened in past situations I crawled into myself, found a corner of my mind no one could reach and rode it out. The deeper I went the less I would feel. But all the while I was crying on the inside. I see a little girl in the corner of a dark room clutching a teddy bear. She is crying and pleading over and over “stop….just stop…please. Stop it.” She cries some more. That little girl is me. 

The appointment ended, he told me to come back and see him to get a final fitting. I walked out of the office, got into my car and screamed. I kicked and punched in the inside of that poor car. Just flailing like I was having a seizure. Needless to say, I did NOT go back. That evening I cursed myself for not being strong enough. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to say “NO”. Every goddamn time I switch off. 

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That night I contemplated suicide, which was common, hence the artistically drawn bullet hole. 

I’m getting rather agitated, so I think this will have to be the end this post right here for today. I’m already past the point of restless frustration and I want to cry.The rekindled memories and sitting here for over an hour (I kept getting interrupted, like five thousand times). I’m just going to toss in the towel and prep for tomorrow.

Thanks for reading. 

The Serial Killer in the Bathroom

Last night I tried to stay awake and write an entry BECAUSE it was Friday the 13th. It felt like an obligation. I don’t know exactly why, maybe because its practically a holiday to some people (including myself). Only comes around once in awhile.Two of my best friends even got married on Friday the 13th. Anyways…I failed, opting to fall sleep next to the cat. Even the 360 had no power over me. 

Jareth: Just fear me – love me – do as I say, and I will be your slave!

Sarah: My kingdom as great… my kingdom as great…You have no power over me!

Which reminds me, I feel like having a one girl girl’s night in again. It’s a simple affair. A nest of quilts and comforters on the bed, my softest pajamas, a bottle of white zinfandel and the film, Labyrinth. I’ll quote the entire movie. This in known. If I were to watch with other people, I demand silence during the Masquerade/As the World Falls Down scene. That’s my scene. This is also known. Come to think of it, I need to catch up on Game of Thrones.

I don’t have much to talk about today. I did go to the dentist this morning. Thrilling. Also dyed my hair copper colored auburn/red:

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I killed a man once o.O

This is my back and back tattoo (Fenrir). Apparently I made quite a mess when applying the dye. I looked like a serial killer. Thank gods I was smart enough to wear gloves. Although, taking them off made me feel even more like a killer or a demented surgeon. The bathroom was a crime scene. It was awesome. 

Tonight I am prepping material from the Burn Book to grace the pages of this blog either later this evening or tomorrow. Stay tuned!

Stop it Spell Check, Dysphoria is a Real Word.

Neo: “You ever have that feeling where you’re not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming?”

Choi: “All the time. It’s called mescaline, it’s the only way to fly.”

Have you ever had something stuck in your head on repeat? Its as if my brain is trying to tell me something. Assuming, mayhaps, that repetitive statements will embed themselves deeper into my psyche (despite my protests) OR my short term memory is broken and all I can remember are the last few points of input that bounced into my cranium like a game of Pong. Whichever one of those statements is true, I cannot relinquish myself of a specific Matrix quote (see above). Even here while I am sitting at work, I have that scene playing over and over again in my head….an insomniac Keanu Reeves, the white rabbit tattoo, the girl with the cool nose/ear combo piercing (Which I secretly really want), the gritty lighting in the apartment hallway…and then…the words.

“Not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming” “Not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming” “Not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming” “It’s the only way to fly” “Only way to fly…..only way to fly”.

For the record I’m not on any drugs and for that matter I’m not even caffeinated (an atrocity, I know, especially since I’m at work…the caffeine part, not the drugs. Obviously).

So what’s the point to all this? Probably nothing, I needed something to write about. Perhaps my subconscious wishes that I would watch The Matrix again or perhaps my mind is indeed broken. Its felt broken, all of a sudden, for a week or two.

Brace yourselves, we seem to be approaching Self Reflectionville!!

WAIT! Sorry, before we venture there I need to make a brief detour and let you all know that eating Doritos and then drinking cold Yorkshire tea makes it taste like fish. FISH. *stink eye*

As i was saying, I know for a fact that I am depressed (I’ve been diagnosed so it doesn’t come as a shock), however I have been so good at managing my emotions or lack there of, however these past two weeks threw all my determination into the dirt. Then stepped on it. With a truck. And then exploded.

You get the picture.

Nothing is very fun anymore, even writing this is a struggle. Why are words so hard? I would prefer to assault the keyboard like a monkey on crank rather then trying to be eloquent. Button smashing a symphony of savagery and raw untamed dysphoria (stop it spell check, that’s a real word). I can’t tell if I give no fucks or if I don’t care enough to give a fuck. I can’t even bring myself to drink, which used to solve these deadening numby episodes. That or marijuana, which I am sadly SADLY lacking in. That will be my next quest, the quest for the Green Leaf of Ganja. it will be epic.

All I want to do right now is play Skyrim (even though I have played the shit out of that game) and beat things to death with my sword. Yay therapy.

So in short, I am depressed and don’t give a fuck about shit anymore (or realistically, at the moment). Annnnddd…I just realized I failed to write and introductory post explaining who I am, what this blog is about, etc. SUNSHINE AND RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS WITH ICE CREAM POOP!!

Just kidding.

More or less, this is a blog about stuff that can be found in what I call “the burn book”. A dark little memoir of my life. The plan is to share EVERYTHING in the hopes of using this liberation as a method of therapy. The alternative is hiding in the bathroom with my feelings. No bueno.

Back to work.