dear Cecil,

when I first met you, I was in Greenland. a place that moved me so deeply that I refer to it reverently as my spiritual homeland. I was lazing in bed, bright arctic morning sun streaming in with icebergs floating by, and there you were, a lump on my abdomen. having lost 50 pounds recently I assumed you were my bladder sticking out because I had to pee so bad. and I thought nothing of you again at the time. every time you popped up I assumed you were my bladder as I was having to pee more and more frequently. weeks passed and as you grew so did my denial, I passed it off as bloating or having to poo. as you continued to grow without slowing down, you weren't as easily dismissible. when I started to be able to move you around by body with my hands, I knew I had something: a stowaway I didn't ask for. I felt violated. I showed Caine and he urged me to go to the doctor.

( Read more...Collapse )

home for the first time since xmas pre pandemic. and I have stowaway mini wines even though they're not necessary. or maybe more necessary than I realize at this time.

I guess I'm revisiting this platform to sort out my thoughts. not super sure the last time I checked my LJ.

my mom is old. not doing well. my dad is dead. funny that dead is only one letter from dad. 

coming back to Hawaii has been ... a trip. my man is suffering back in CA. my mom is suffering. my elderly cat is suffering after losing her sister and getting a new couch. my best friend moved away. I feel like everyone needs me and I'm getting lost in it. I know we'll move back here at some point but there are. so. many. road. blocks.

my job is fine I'm scared Caine wants to totally give up working. anyways rhetoric aside

I miss my dad. coming here brings that up. this trip less so. perhaps because I believe I have a mission. my mom is falling apart. she slept til almost 5pm today. she hobbles around, can barely move and is in so much pain her house looks like a dumping ground.

yet this trip feel different. I don't feel like I need to swoop in and bandaid everything. I feel like I am laying the foundations of recovery for my mom and a future back at home for me and Caine. I'm not looking at this as finite, but as the beginning of a process. like my mom is a bridge between my old life and my new life in Hawaii. 

Jesus I remember why I used to do this all the time. thanks, LJ.

Dear sarah:

I don't really know how to tell you this, but i dislike you. I think I realized it when we skinny dipped with george bush and his wife and I saw you carve your initials into the crazy monk. I'm sure you're high enough to understand that i did a sex-change. I'm returning your ring to you, but I'll keep the results of your blood sample as a memory. You should also know that I will tell the authorities about cocaine abuse.
Good luck on your short-term leave from jail,
jennie

RULES:
Do the "Letter MEME". Tag no less than 5 other people, and leave them a comment, informing them that they have been tagged. Then copy the "How-to" Letter Meme, and finish your Journal entry.

I tag
everyone!


Dear (the last person who left a comment on your journal):

I don't really know how to tell you this, but ___1___. I think I realized it ___2___ ___3___ and I saw you ___4___ ___5___. I'm sure you're ___6___ enough to understand ___7___. I'm returning ___8___ to you, but I'll keep ___9___ as a memory. You should also know that I ___10___ ___11___ .

___12___,
-Your name-

1. What's the color of your shirt?
Blue - Our romance is over
Red - Our affair is over
White - I'll join the monastery
Black - I dislike you
Green - Our horoscope doesn't match
Grey - You're a pervert
Yellow - I'm selling myself
Pink - Your nostrils are insulting
Brown - The mafia wants you
No shirt - You're a loser
Other - I'm in love with your sister


2. Which is your birth month?
January - That night
February - Last year
March - When your dwarf bit me
April - When I tripped on sesame seeds
May - First of May
June - When you put cuffs on me
July - When I threw up
August - When I saw the shrunken head
September - When we skinny dipped
October - When I quoted Santa
November - When your dog ran amok
December - When I changed tennis shoes


3. Which food do you prefer?
Tacos - In your apartment
Pizza - In your camping car
Pasta - Outside of Chicago
Hamburgers - Under the bus
Salad - As you ate enchilada
Chicken - In your closet
Kabob - With Paris Hilton
Fish - In women's clothing
Sandwiches - At the Hare Krishna graduation
Lasagna - At the mental hospital
Hot dog - Under a state of trance
None of the above - With George Bush and his wife


4. What's the color of your socks?
Yellow - Hit on
Red - Insult
Black - Ignore
Blue - Knock out
Purple - Pour syrup on
White - Carve your initials into
Grey - Pull the clothes off
Brown - Put leeches on
Orange - Castrate
Pink - Pull the toupee off
Barefoot - Sit on
Other - Drive out


5. What's the color of your underwear?
Black - My best friend
White - My father
Grey - Bill Clinton
Brown - My fart balloon
Purple - My mustard soufflé
Red - Donald Duck
Blue - My avocado plant
Yellow - My penpal in Ghana
Orange - My Kid Rock-collection
Pink - Manchester United's goalkeeper
None - My John F. Kennedy-statue
Other - The crazy monk


6. What do you prefer to watch on TV?
Scrubs - Man
O.C. - Emotional
One Tree Hill - Open
Heroes - Frostbitten
Lost - High
House - Scarred
Simpsons - Cowardly
The news - Mongolic
Idol - Masochistic
Family Guy - Senile
Top Model - Middle-class
None of the above - Ashamed


7. Your mood right now?
Happy - How awful I've felt
Sad - How boring you are
Bored - That Santa doesn't exist
Angry - That your pimples are at the last stage
Depressed - That we're cousins
Excited - That there is no solution to this.
Nervous - The middle-east
Worried - That your Honda sucks
Apathetic - That I did a sex-change
Ashamed - That I'm allergic to your hamster
Cuddly - That I get turned on by garbage men
Overjoyous - That I'm open
Other - That Extreme Home Makeover sucks


8. What's the color of your walls in your bedroom?
White - Your ring
Yellow - Your love letters
Red - Your Darth Vader-poster
Black - Your tame stone
Blue - The couch cushions
Green - The pictures from LA
Orange - Your false teeth
Brown - Your contact book
Grey - Our matching snoopy-bibs
Purple - Your old lottery coupons
Pink - The cut toenails
Other - Your memories from the military service


9. The first letter of your first name?
A/B - Your photo
C/D - The oil stocks
E/F - Your neighbour Martin
G/H - My virginity
I/J - The results of your blood-sample
K/L - Your left ear
M/N - Your suicide note
O/P - My common sense
Q/R - Your mom
S/T - Your collection of butterflies
U/V - Your criminal record
W/X - David's tricot outfits
Y/Z - Your grades from college


10. The last letter in your last name?
A/B - Always will remember
C/D - Never will forget
E/F - Always wanted to break
G/H - Never openly mocked
I/J - Always have felt dirty before
K/L - Will tell the authorities about
M/N - Told in my confession today about
O/P - Was interviewed by the Times about
Q/R - Told my psychiatrist about
S/T - Get sick when I think of
U/V - Always will try to forget
W/X - Am better off without
Y/Z - Never liked


11. What do you prefer to drink?
Water- Our friendship
Beer - Senility
Soft drink - A new life as a clone
Soda - The incarnation as an eskimo
Milk - The apartment building
Wine - Cocaine abuse
Cider - A passionate interest for mice
Juice - Oprah Winfrey imitations
Mineral water - Embarrassing rash
Hot chocolate - Eggplant-fetishism
Whisky - To ruin the second world war
Other - To hate the Boston Celtics


12. To which country would you prefer to go on a vacation?
Thailand - Warm regards
USA - Best regards
England - Good luck on your short-term leave from jail
Spain - Go and drown yourself
China - Disgusting regards

ok, so i'm making a cd for someone who likes the following bands:

alkaline trio
darkest hour
avenged sevenfold
Kovenant
my chemical romance
rise against
thrice

i'm trying for stuff he'd like based on these but hasn't heard before.

help? thanks!!

power ballads. go!

or just any 80s you like to rock out to. go!

One word to describe me... just one single word. Leave it in my comments. Then post this message on your journal and see how many strange and interesting things people say about you...

this is random. the only ones that make sense are the first and last haha.




this is more like it!

> WARNING

leideigh is radioactive. Wear protective clothing at all times.

Username:

From Go-Quiz.com

bill slapped me a couple days ago. it was not even 7am and he woke me up, yelling at me. i was laying in bed naked and he came over (edit: after yelling at me and throwing my cat diddle, brown gold yellow black, off the bed from next to me) and slapped me. it didn't leave a mark but it hurt and i was completely shocked. needless to say now i'm kinda afraid of him. he wanted to use it as a brand new beginning, a jumping off point. but since then i'm extremely disillusioned with this whole thing and i don't know what to do. i love him, and i want to take this chance at a new beginning because things between us were so good at the start. i know i've done things to fuck it up, but so has he. so we're both at fault. and in the past i've slapped him a lot, but this is the first time a man has ever raised his hand to me. my first instinct was to grab my cats and leave. but i was a weak little girl and i let him hold me and tell me he's sorry and it'll never happen again. friends, if i become a statistic, do not speak ill of me. i always swore that i would leave a man on one of 3 conditions: 1- he cheats 2- he's gay 3- he hits me. and he hit me. and i was terrified. he promised to do all kinds o' shyte like go back on his meds and get another job etc but i still told him i want us to break up. yet somehow he's determined to make this work. i don't even look at him the same way anymore. it's so hard and i don't know what to do. we're moving to a totally different city in a few days. and i don't know what to do. i love him. but is he going to do it again?

while doing research, i found the following. i love it. (but i think the kleenex thing is a bit much.)

National Association for Rights Protection and Advocacy

To be a mental patient is to be stigmatized, ostracized, socialized, patronized, psychiatrized.

To be a mental patient is to have everyone controlling your life but you. You're watched by your shrink, your social worker, your friends, your family. And then you're diagnosed as paranoid.

To be a mental patient is to live with the constant threat and possibility of being locked up at any time, for almost any reason.

To be a mental patient is to live on $82 a month in food stamps, which won't let you buy Kleenex to dry your tears. And to watch your shrink come back to his office from lunch, driving a Mercedes Benz.

To be a mental patient is to take drugs that dull your mind, deaden your senses, make you jitter and drool and then you take more drugs to lessen the "side effects."

To be a mental patient is to apply for jobs and lie about the last few months or years, because you've been in the hospital, and then you don't get the job anyway because you're a mental patient. To be a mental patient is not to matter.

To be a mental patient is never to be taken seriously.

To be a mental patient is to be a resident of a ghetto, surrounded by other mental patients who are as scared and hungry and bored and broke as you are.

To be a mental patient is to watch TV and see how violent and dangerous and
dumb and incompetent and crazy you are.

To be a mental patient is to be a statistic.

To be a mental patient is to wear a label, and that label never goes away, a label that says little about what you are and even less about who you are.

To be a mental patient is to never to say what you mean, but to sound like you mean what you say.

To be a mental patient is to tell your psychiatrist he's helping you , even if he is not.

To be a mental patient is to act glad when you're sad and calm when you're mad,
and to always be "appropriate."

To be a mental patient is to participate in stupid groups that call themselves therapy. Music isn't music, its therapy; volleyball isn't sport, it's therapy; sewing is therapy; washing dishes is therapy. Even the air you breathe is therapy and that's called "the milieu."

To be a mental patient is not to die, even if you want to -- and not cry, and not hurt, and not be scared, and not be angry, and not be vulnerable, and not to laugh to loud -- because, if you do, you only prove that you are a mental patient even if you are not.

And so you become a no-thing, in a no-world, and you are not.

my journal is henceforth FRIENDS ONLY.

comment if you want to be added.

yes, most of my old entries are now FRIENDS ONLY also.

so there.