In my quest to find accurate dates of former employment for myself, I had to remember a scene in which I wiped my ass with pages from my best-friend's American History book. That was the day I quit, I remember. I drove up Angeles Crest after picking her up, I was sobbing and threatening to throw myself off a mountain. I sobered up and realized I could just quit, because fuck them, and she promptly ripped her history book up because she hated the class and was only taking it because I sorta maybe forced her.

Because I remembered wiping my ass with her history book (I had to pee, so I guess I didn't technically wipe my ass), right before this strange fog settled around us and it started raining, I realized I could check my old grades to find the right semester. Semester uncovered, I cross-checked it with an old livejournal of mine. LO AND BEHOLD WHAT I FOUND THERE:

( WARNING, it starts off like: I hate living. I hate having to do things. )


In conclusion: Was I always this hateful? Am I still? Do I secretly think terrible, homicidal things about you when you think I'm actually nice and friendly and impossibly nerdy despite my huge tits? JK, THEY AREN'T THAT HUGE. But seriously. I was almost shocked to see this from myself. I always manage to forget how truly fucking crazy I used to be. I once took this class in undergrad called THE POWER OF NEGATIVE THINKING. It was nothing like this, but god damn.

Anyway, I'm currently planning to sell my soul to the devil (read: APPLY TO A MINIMUM WAGE JOB, EFFECTIVELY ERASING MY YEARS OF UNDERGRAD AND GRADUATE EDUCATION BECAUSE GOD DAMN I NEED SOME MONEY AND PROSTITUTION IZ HARD), so I need to find out when I worked for that bastion of self-expression when self-expression iz hard: HELLMARK! Sorry, I mean Hallmark. Those bastards fucked up my cuticles and all I had to show for it was some resume experience, a slew of tickets to see my favorite bands, and a beautiful pearl white Nintendo SP (LIMITED EDITION, BITCHES).

Yes, I'm updating at 1:45 a.m. to tell you this. Also, you know that story that I'm writing? SOON, YA'LL. Chapter 15 is in the works. I mean, it's been in the works for two months now, but now it's getting real hot and heavy.

I'm actually farther along than 108, but this scene has been lodged in my brain for the last couple hours. IT IS BEAUTIFUL ANGST WAITING TO HAPPEN. I love you, Kakashi, omg.

I can understand the desire for revenge. I can understand how it builds a nest out of mean scraps, half-forgotten things, and grows until it fits underneath your entire skin. I know what lust for revenge feels like, but I have a weak heart that's not made for hating. I'm bad at keeping grudges or saying things convincingly with anger (there are always tears, my mouth doing all the talking while my heart protests). I am not made that way, not even a little. I am too soft (?) or too sentimental, always giving the benefit of the doubt, always searching out that last shred of goodness. I was never an optimist, so what is it in me that does this? I have no faith in people, but believe in a person until there are no other options. The human capacity for indifference, the human capacity for knowing another, how they are at odds with each other.

I don't understand people who feel no love for anything. I understand walls and building them up and making them necessary, but to tear down your angels, to hurt your friends, to kill the parts of you that beat. I can understand and I can't understand. I can understand and I can't agree. Wrongness doesn't mean anything, doing the wrong thing has ceased to matter. But how can you stand against the sort of person you used to be? Maybe some people hate themselves and want to make themselves miserable (math, toxic relationships), and that can be a reason for adding to the list of things worth exploding over. Things Worth Exploding Over: 1)parents, 2)childhood, 3)finances, 4)relationships, 5)the death of everything you hold dear, 6)being a hypocrite a hypocrite a hypocrite, 7)destroying the only things left, 8)making them hate you. Who can add to a list like that? People with no hope, I guess.

What is this even about? Naruto, that's what this is about. I don't have a heart made for hate, but I have one that is convinced easily, is bound up in things easily. I suspect it is a medical condition, caring so fucking much about things that don't exist, but I really just can't understand how Sasuke can be such a fucking stupid bastard. How the fuck can he be such a fucking stupid bastard. Much in the same way that people I know can be stupid fucking bastards, and I love them so much that it kills me, kills me to be angry with them, to force myself to be angry with them, and it becomes a dual wound. Them hurting you, and you hurting yourself.

Also, I am sick in the way that, if untreated, causes disfigurement and eventually death. It's a hard concept to deal with, I'm trying my best, but my best is a joke on the best of days. The best medicine aside from real medicine is isolation and 60 episodes of Naruto in two days. I live an exciting and cutting-edge life, kids. Oh, brb, slitting my wrists. (I guess since I'm a depressive I have to add that this last part, the slitting my wrists part, is a joke. Do you know how truly difficult it is to slit your wrists? I guess it would be easier with something with more cutting power than an Exacto knife, a paperclip, a rusty paring knife, a serrated steak knife, or a shaving razor. What's left? A saw? A katana? Excalibur?)

Blah blah blah, time for more Naruto.

I'm going to the beach for a couple days. This is what we want to happen:

• LB15
  
• re-conceptualize living in Japan for a year
  
• try to be cohesive and lucid when I write these fucking things
  
• think seriously about that novel
  
• play guitar on the beach and attract strangers to throw me things (money, tomatoes, etc)
  
• visit UCSB campus and try to avoid colleagues and professors who might try and ask me What I'm Doing Now
  
• stop
  
• breathe
  

Until right now, right here, I've been operating under this very specific aesthetic that I think is both 1) obtuse and 2) mystifying. It was intentional, with the purpose to dissuade certain sneaky sonsofbitches from thinking they understood things they couldn't possibly understand. I'm going to try really hard to be coherently honest as opposed to on acid honest. There is nothing to be afraid of, and this isn't the place for abstraction anyway. I do enough abstraction in my chest (there is nothing to prove, no one to prove it to). Maybe it had something to do with a real desire to appear more interesting that I actually am (read: inferiority complex).

Some Immediate Goals

• read those grad school lit books you have sitting under your dresser (start with Miller)
  
• finish that kirino book before it's due on the 29th because you're out of renewals
  
• write Day 68 before passing out, omg
  

This was more elaborate and apologetic when I thought about it first. NOW IT IS JUST BABBLING.

The short version: will be gone; will be back if I don't die somehow (Murphy's Law... YOU NEVER KNOW).