a_page_for_des_to_ramble endless desire old rambles, new rambles. just ones that i want to record in time so i can have my own free associations and not feel like im cluttering shit with a bunch of nonsense. anyone can join in or whatever, but this is probably the most bullshit of the bullshit. it's just so straight from my head to the keyboard. a lot of the ones that i want to keep on record are from a journal i hardly ever use. i don't want them to get lost because ive had a lot of those deleted, but i suppose blather could get lost just as easily. anyway, things may sound out of context. 061025 ... endless desire [11/21/05] so ive become really good at giving off a particular image// this image where i don't care what people think, so i say the blunt thing at the awkward moment or stroll somewhere looking like an idiot, and it's all ok, you know? because people don't effect me? right? see: that's silly. others may have fooled me with that game before, and so i learned how to fool myself. the more i think about it, the more i see it as a way of defending against my insecurities. somehow, if i could convince myself and the world that i don't care what they think of me [or the way i dress, or the places i go, or the habits i have] then not only will their opinion not effect how i feel about myself, but maybe others will be less likely to make or voice negative opinions that they know will be unwarranted. for the longest time, i really thought this was working. i really thought i could brainwash myself into believing that i was untouchable, that no one could hurt me unless i let myself be hurt by what they've done. it's just all these walls i've kept building around myself. and i see everything in metaphors. it helps me make sense of the world. so i imagine myself finding the safest place i could ever be in my mind, which is a place up in mammoth mountains that you can only get to on foot. but when i arrive there, i still don't feel safe, because im so lonely and exposed (ive played this senario many times in my head) so i build a stone wall in my imagination (which takes concentration if im really going to see it in my mind). it's about ten feet in diameter and made of those chilly, white stones you find by rivers. i create a twenty-foot structure surrounding me on the grass beside 1,000 Island Lake, and lie on my back, completely safe from everyone because of my castle. [but while im imagining this, i always get all itchy because the idea of lying on grass (even when surrounded by stone) makes me associate with hives, so then i have to create a quilt in my mind, usually the red one my grandma made me at birth, and lie on top of that, so i don't get itchy]. so when i said, "it's just all these walls i've kept building around myself", that's what i thought of. because ive taken myself to that place many times before when i feel uncomfortable and want to be alone. i have a very practical, proactive (and self-destructive) imagination. it punishes and rewards me. everything creates a picture in my mind; every picture can be altered; everything is an assocation, which is listed somewhere in my mind with more associations that i recall at random times. sometimes, i'll store an association in my mind and not recall it for 10 years. but, haha, other times i recall something instantly and it links me to an array of old memories. i think a lot of people are like this, but just don't know it. the easiest example i can think of is with particular CD. i will have listened to it over and over again during a certain part of my life, so whenever i hear a particular song or artist years later, it takes me back to those times. that is normal. or at least, i think it is. but my brain does that too often. everything i look at can create a million other associatinos, all linked to specific emotions that have the effect to manipulate my goddamn mood. making me very irritable--i feel like the slightest things can bring me absolute peace or absolute unhappiness. thus, when i said, "it's just all these walls i've kept building around myself" i automatically thought of my stone wall metaphor out in mammoth mountains. ive had this metaphor for several years and if you were to go through my poetry (which is all over the place) you'd see it arises on a number of occasions. though, you would never know for certain if they're all related, because you're not in my mind. and because you probably don't give a fuck. so i start imagining my imagination building walls around me with stone, one rock at a time, around and around. until the tower around me is unbelievably high, and all the things around me (which would literally be woods, but metaphorically be all the people im afraid are going to judge me) have no possibility of seeing/hurting/conversing/bothering me at all. but for some reason, it starts to rain. and i didn't control that rain. sometimes my imagination just does things, and i figure it's my subconscious create something, but i really have no fucking cool. anyway, so i usually run with what my mind thinks of next, unless it is unpleasant. so it starts to rain, but ive spent all this time validifying the wall in my mind, because in order for me to visualize something in my imagination, i just have to believe it's there over and over again, until i see it. this was far easier when i was a child. anyway, it's raining, which i thought would be fun, but the tower keeps filling up. and im like, fuck it's raining and the ground's going to be all wet. but that's really the least of my concerns. so the waters filling up and i have to try to get my mind to reverse it. but then i start thinking, hmm that's kind of interesting. the original statement, "it's just all these walls i've kept building around myself", wasn't referring to this metaphor at all, but how i defend myself against people, which made me think of the metaphor. and in the metaphor, my defenses we're just about to drown me. and i wouldn't have drowned if i had just stopped pretending that the elements couldn't hurt me, because they always can. they always have a way. why can't i just give into life and live experience the good and the bad, rather than just trying to be by myself or get fucked up so i don't have to deal with. and i wonder if the wall ive been creating in my real life is drugs, because i can retreat and be away from the majority of society and fall inward and experience the world through my disorriented state, which doesn't change the world but just my perception of it. so mean while, im perceiving the world through this twisted state that i put on myself, which somehow makes me feel excused from having to give a fuck about what anyone thinks. i mean, if i can fall behind the excuse, 'oh she's just a druggie' than my actions must have no validity? but that contradicts everything i want! i want validity. i want people to listen to me. i want them to understand who i am. but the further i allow people to understand me, the more that they often...don't. which i may have thought i wanted, but what i really like much better is when someone says, 'wow i feel the exact same way but i didn't think anyone else did'. when i go to work everyday, i wonder, do they know? do they even have a cool who i am? the crazy things ive thought, the stupid decisions ive made, the revelations ive had about the world, the petty arguments ive held... i wonder if i give off what i am. that's what i want to do. i mean, i want to give off a less "potent" version of who i am, because im always afraid people can't handle me. my therapist talks about how i always think im going to "hurt" people. and i guess that's kind of true. i don't think i have positive effects on people in relationships or decisions or...rational thought process...or moralality... or anything like that. i dont know why. i just feel like i notice patterns in my life and that im never very lucky or maybe im just negative? ... see now this is where i stop. i stop when i don't have anything concrete to say anymore, because ive thought too much. i lost my groove. but you see, usually i don't write like this. i write in poems. i take all this crap that just came out of my head and write it in chopping sentences that are scattered and full of metaphors that don't make sense. i pretty much say everything i just said right now, but in a few little columns. and make these distant sentences...and i could write a poem about a girl in the woods and a wall and a lake, and it would probably be cliche, and it probably has already been done, but somehow i would start off writing about how i felt and it would become about a girl in the woods and a wall. and then i would finish the poem off that way and get caught up about making statements about life, all by being really vague and chopping and typing in lines rather than completely sentences; and when i can throw in some weird punctuation//that follows my train of thought better. & i'll write about the girl in the woods & i'll write about what im feeling & i'll feel successful because i wrote a poem. when the whole time i just thought all of that shit in like 10 minutes. that's why im a fucking quack. and that's why im done pretending im not. because im sick of trying to make people like me. why would i care if someone liked me if i wasn't actually being me??? it reminds me of those people who make fake myspaces or livejournals with someone elses pictures, or better yet! a celebrity's picture! and then all these people are like, 'oh you're so pretty!' and they're like, 'yay thanks so much!' and then you find out it's fake. and i wonder, why the hell did someone spend that much time to pretend to be someone else. because it's not as though those compliments can make them feel any better about themselves if it's not actually about them? i mean, they have to have some sick control issues or something. and i judge that. and i shouldn't judge that. but i do. when this whole time, i make about a million facades hoping they will like me but pretending i dont care. but if they do like me as a person, and it's not who i really am, isn't that just as bad as though damn fake picture posters? never mind. god blah im deleting this shit as soon as im sober. damnit. and you know what im thinking right now? im thinking, why did i just write all of this? im thinking, should i reread this? i mean, what about all those random people who added me from random communities who are going to think im a quack. and my first reaction is, well they won't read it anyway. and my second reaction is, well what if they do? damnit. and my third reaction is, well i don't give a fuck! and my fourth and final reaction, ladies and gentlemen, is, that's what this entire post was supposed to be about! and THAT, my friends, is how you come full circle. jdfkljdsklz; goodnight. actually, it's three PM. and i called in sick to work. and im going to go outside and have a cigarette. because that will make me feel better. and that's a sad thing. i could get used to this. just writing whatever the fuck i want to. i usually reserve my journal for where i have something meaningful to say. but i could just do this for ages. and the funniest part about it is, i'll probably wonder who actually read this. and who thinks what. and then i'll realize that im incredibly self-absorbed. and then i'll realize im still typing when ive been resolved to stop and have a cigarette paragraphs ago. goddamnit. 061025 ... endless desire [7/20/05] i hate silence with a passion though im not sure if ive ever heard it because when im silent, all i hear is this relentless ringing in my ears. which leads me to believe that i have some sort of ear-problem. however, im a hypochondriac at heart, so you really shouldn't take anything i say very seriously. i take more medicine than a cancer patient; i sleep more than a newborn; i drink more diet coke than god; i no longer go to church and i loathe organized religion. i loathe arrogance and ignorance and labels. i favor cliches over instability, because at least i can get my hands around them. i have no desire for a relationship, because im too flaky to have deep attachments, and, quite frankly, it seems like too much work. i get nervous when the television isn't on or when noise doesn't fill the air. i speed on highways and pop vicodin to get rid of headaches because im lazy and it's easier. i love finding excuses to not answer my cell phone and i'd do anything to find a book i could get stuck in. i wear bracelets to cover scars and pants to cover my legs and clothes to cover everything else. i have little confidence in my body anymore, but that makes me just like everyone else, and im okay with that. if i wasn't, i might work out or diet, but i don't so i really can't complain. i like dogs and babies because they rely on me and make me feel needed and appreciated. im incredibly narcissistic and sometimes just stare in the mirror because im fond of my reflection-- it entertains me. i pile on makeup to keep from smoking when i drive, but then i smoke anyway and i don't care. im quite insane, and i know it; thus, i think my new layout suits me very well. i haven't worn a bathing suit yet this summer, nor have i worn shorts, and i don't plan to. i like wearing braids and ribbons and fabric in my hair, and i prefer my fingernails bare and my toe nails painted. i love tunics and lazy dresses and i think it would be nice to live in those baggy blue things they make you put on at the doctors office all the time. i don't shower when i can get away with it and i don't eat when im too lazy, and i probably wouldn't eat anything but breakfast if it didn't give me a terrible headache not to do so. if i could, i'd spend all day arranging magazine cut-outs and reading gossip magazines (my guilty pleasure). i feel guilty when people compliment me because i must have lied to them somehow. i love constructive criticism and i argue the opposite point of the majority just to argue. i believe im incredibly objective and defiant, but maybe im not, and i just think i am.. i hate racial slurs and i want to marry a person of colour because i have an intense case of jungle fever and people love to give me a bad time about it. i stutter when professionals ask me about my emotions and i spend too much time looking at pictures of mary-kate and ashley olsen. i can't find a decent hobby without getting obsessed with it, because i think i have an obsessive personality. i love poetry and lyrically-driven songs, but i rarely listen to music on my own time, because it's too much work to pick what i like. if you haven't noticed, im quite lazy--even when it comes to things i enjoy. though, i tend to think laziness is the wrong word, and that i'd rather replace it with depression-driven apathy. but today i feel happy, and i sat and listened to dennis pregor all morning, even though i don't agree with most of what he says. but i enjoy listening to the opposition, because it's quite enlightening and it makes me more accepting of the right wing bastards i encounter in orange county. i love to drive at night, and i love the city and subway transportation. im impatient, delirious, forgetful, and forgiving, because i usually forget the things i wouldn't forgive and have a change of heart before i can hold a decent grudge. i think ignorance spurs all evil, and at the root of which is pride. i think open-mindedness breeds love and tenderness, and my back hurts when i sit at the computer for too long. i lie to my therapists and parents and compulsively make up stories because my own life is far too boring. i day-dream and tune-out when anything important is going on, because the pressure to pay attention sends me flying off to the center of my imagination. i enjoy all colours except yellow, because i associate it with hard times, and orange because it's ugly and looks terrible on me. oh and maybe beige, but who looks good in beige anyway? im long-winded and talkative--i have a reciprocative personality-- i usually micmick those im around, not to fit in, but because i think im strangely versatile when it comes to friends. my papa calls me a scattered genius-- and i think it's my favourite thing anyone has ever called me in my life. im quite a scattered person, actually. when i settle in anywhere, i have to have a lot of space to spread out, because i just take up a lot of space in general. im incredibly honest when it comes to my opinion, because i want people to trust the things i say about them and about life. i don't share the things ive gone through with other people, because most aren't worth being trusted, and i'd rather be understood than analyzed. i am me. i am me. i am me. i am i am i am. i walk i breathe i sing i teach i feel i drink i ache i love i watch i drive i catch i fly i cry i copy i think i know i exist, thus i am. i am. i am. 061025 ... Doar be safe des. and live for life. . 130614 what's it to you? who go blather from