Return of the Queen.

PEASANTS!

No, ahem. Just been caught up with all the other websites and health stuff and school.

So! Item of business number one: My father is running against Mike Winder for WVC Mayor and it's been crazy on the war front. Every space is occupied with papers, maps, signs, and now buttons. I'm lactose-intolerant, so sorry Winder, but you can keep your tasty udder juice to yourself! Did you know there's pus in milk anyway and the FDA regulates how much can be allowed? But there's 11% bugs in chocolate or something, too...

Anyway, I don't really pay attention to politics, so be it dictator or anarchy, as long as I can sleep in, I'm ambivilent. Ambivilent, of course, meaning that Winder is a Weinie.

Item of business number two: I had my procedure done. Here's the account:

"I woke up and couldn't eat anything except clear fluids until midnight. I mostly had vegetable broth and jello. Instead of drinking a gallon of stuff called "Trilyte," I got the pill version. Four large, salty pills every fifteen minutes five times that evening and then four times at 5:oo in the morning [arg!]. And each time I had to drink 8 ounces. After the third time, you start getting sick of force-feeding yourself pills and water. I could feel them in my stomach bubbling.

So less than an hour after my first dose, I was running back and forth out of the bathroom faster than you could say "food poisoning." And after two hours you think "There can't possibly be anything left in my intestines!" but there is. Another two hours. I was starving and I couldn't eat and the cranberry juice I had didn't quench my thirst. I think it's what having your water break feels like. But every thirty seconds and out your rear, hah.

Went to bed. Lousy sleep. At 5:oo AM my mum came in to start the cleansing pills over again, but this time I could only drink the required 8 ounces for the pills. I was so frakking dehydrated-I could feel it. And my veins had disappeared [usually phlebotamists compliment me on such plump, protruding veins I have].

We got to the surgery center at 8:30. Did a little paperwork. Sat for a minute, and then I was called back by a teeny nurse. I was shown to a bathroom where I could change into a hospital gown [I can never get those right], put my stuff in a bag, and give a urine sample. WELL I couldn't give a sample because of how dehydrated I had to be for the whole thing. It was only a required pregnancy test and they said, and I quote, "All we need is a meager four or five drops." Bah! I couldn't. Too dehydrated.

So I was shown my bed and they brought in my mum when they put in the IV because I don't do well with needles. Especially those ones. I was surprised they'd be putting it in my hand because all the past ones have been in my arms. Took a long time-they had to smack the veins a lot to make them pop out. And then "You're gonna feel a stick." More like a tree. It bloody hurt! And then they pushed it in another inch! And it was taped so many times it looked like I was dying or something. When the fluids started dripping [water with elecrolytes and potassium, basically Gatorade without sugar or flavor], it felt like my arm was being flayed open with a salty, cold piece of metal. It was a tiny bag of fluid-like the size of a Capri Sun. And they kept asking me when I thought I'd be ready to produce a urine sample, but wasn't it obvious other organs needed those two tablespoons of fluid before taking a piss? So I asked them to up the ante. And after nearly an hour, I was able to produce those "four or five meager drops." I was so thirsty.

After that we waited for a while. I guess the man on the other side of the curtain was before me, so when he finally got wheeled out [the doctor was twenty minutes late], it meant only twenty or thirty minutes before my turn.

Then they came to get me, wheeled me in a room, where I saw a television screen and was able to see where the camera was sitting on the table.

And then a nurse pulled out a giant syringe of anesthesia. She told me it would burn a little. Burned a LOT. It was thick stuff she pumped in-it looked like Elmer's glue. So I just turned into my pillow with these annoying oxygen nose tubes saying, "OW. OW. OW. OW."

And then I woke up in the recovery room what felt like hours later but was only twenty minutes. I wanted to sleep, but I wanted to pretend I was more alert than I really was, so I forced myself to stay awake by asking questions. The procedure went fine and everything looks normal. They took the biopsies and sent them off. I don't know when I get the results. They gave me some orange juice and proved my thirst by chugging it down. And then I got my IV taken out [along with plenty of arm hair], got dressed, and had my mum drive to Barnes & Noble because I wanted a caprise sandwich and Jones soda, after which, I went to bed for four hours.

Now I'm just catching up on rehydration and stuff. I lost five pounds overnight from those pills. Juice, juice, juice. "

Item of business number three: The final art assignment. We have to do a graphite self-portrait...by looking at ourselves in a mirror. And you can't do it all in one go. You have to do the points and the midline and triangulation before you even thing of rounding the edges. We were suggested to draw a midline down the mirror so we can line up our heads each time. And then we have to put two sheets of tracing paper over, one for the skull and the other for the muscles. "Hey Mom! I drew a picture of myself without skin! Put it on the fridge!"

I think that's it for now. Cheerio.

Last month in review.

I haven't been able to blog much lately. It's been a busy month.

Micaela J. Johnson
"Mickey"
Micaela Jaquetta Johnson, 17, passed away May 14, 2009 in West Valley City, Utah.Born July 8, 1991 in Salt Lake City, Utah, daughter of Michael Todd and Cathy Noyes Johnson. Micaela was full of life, energetic and sometimes a little goofy. She had a way of making us all laugh and usually got out of trouble by looking at you with those big beautiful eyes. When she was younger, she was involved in baseball and was invited to sing at the Joseph Smith Center with the Children's Primary Choir. Mickey was very smart and enjoyed many things including spending time with her friends, drawing, writing poetry and frequently changing her hair color and style. She will be missed very, very much by her family and everyone that had the opportunity to know her. Survived by her parents; siblings: Merintha (Melvin) Batty, Chad Johnson, Caitlin Johnson; grandmothers: Mamie Noyes, Janice Johnson and Nancy Johnson; nephew, Hunter Batty. Preceded in death by brother, Benjamin Todd Johnson; grand-fathers: Wells Noyes and John Johnson; cousin, Michael Noyes. Funeral services will be held Tuesday, May 19, 2009, 12:00 noon at McDougal Funeral Home, 4330 South Redwood Road where a viewing will be held Monday, from 6-8 p.m. and Tuesday, from 11-11:45 a.m. prior to services. Interment, Valley View Memorial Park.

Second friend of mine to commit suicide in two years.

"Today was Micaela's viewing and funeral. I wish some of the people put an effort to dress nice-some guy tripped because his pants were so baggy. Or at least not smoke in the parking lot. It was at the McDougal funeral home. It was kind of dim inside. I didn't have to wait for very long before I saw her. Maybe it was the lighting, but the undertaker or whoever did a better job on Sam than her. She looked mottled, like a bruise. Kind of greenish and veiny. I'm sure she would have liked black swirls around her eyes and stuff at least.Some lady behind us had her phone go off three times. THREE. My fingers were itching to take the phone and and stomp it, and then people would cheer or something.I liked her coffin and the flower arrangement. Black coffin with silver handles, red roses topped with a black bow. Very gothic. That's a bit of a cliche-we goths liking our gothic coffins, haha. And on the inside of the coffin there was a purple Celtic knot-the triangle representing the Trinity intertwined-she wore a smaller version on a necklace a lot.It was a short funeral-like 45 minutes. One of the songs played was Evanescence's "My Immortal." She liked Evanescence a lot.I've been feeling like I've been getting a cold. All the pollen caking to one side of the car doesn't help. So I didn't go to the burial. Maybe Memorial Day weekend, I'll visit her and Sam."

I started school. I only have one class and that's figure drawing. Very expensive in the book department. And with all the supplies, there's a lot to carry. After my first real class I took a shower and thought I had some sort of rash on my collarbone and shoulder-it looked like lots of tiny red and purple kisses but then I realized it was bruises from my bag. Good thing there aren't terribly big veins around there. I also drew from my first nude model, which was peachy keen. Just like drawing a still life or something-I'm not sure how it bothers people. We mostly drew dots and lines, trying to find centers of alignment and stuff.

My sister came down with the flu [the same group the Swine is in] and my dad with bronchitis, which has now been accompanied by the flu. So they're wearing masks and we have a bunch [but not enough in my opinion]of disinfective wipes. So I've put myself under quarantine and have remained in my room for the most part, wearing a mask when I go out and wiping everything before and after I touch it. Paranoid? No. I've been hospitalized by some sort of fast-striking flu before and that made me want to go Kevorkian. I can't afford to get sick again. My immune system [and my brain]couldn't take it. So I'm suspicious of every ache and pain and sneeze I have.

I dyed my hair red-Ronald McDonald red-again and I looked like a cancer patient with my face mask and then a plastic bag around my head. My mum took a picture on her phone of me because I looked like a biohazard.

Saw X-Men Origins and Terminator: Salvation. Both were pretty good, but I I saw previews which looked more interesting--District 9 with PETER JACKSON! When Josh and I were seeing X-Men and the preview came on, Josh was like, "I'm up to date on all the things in the movie world-why haven't I heard of this?!" as I squealed when they said Peter Jackson. I thought at first it was some documentary on South Africa and the racism and stuff, but then you see this giant ship floating like a necropolis over a town. And the interview with the alien [it has a mouth like Shelob, just for the record]. Oh man.

And I have yet to see the preview in theaters but many a time on youtube, HARRY POTTER und der HALF BLOOD PRINCE. I'm trying to convince Josh it'll be a cool movie by referring to Inferi as zombies.

Well, off to go get some food while fighting bacteria [did you know your kitchen and bathroom are the filthiest places in your house?].

"You're so easy to read but the book is boring me."

I think my Jamba Juice was spiked, but being so tolerant to sedatives, have recognized this and refuse to let my lethargy win. Plus it'd throw off my whole chronic fatigue schedule and we can't have that, now can we?

Not really, but I am unusually tired. And I swear I got a giant zit within exactly 43 minutes because it wasn't there earlier.

I went to the library today [one of my few outings these days] squealing to see the double disc special edition of Emilie Autumn's Opheliac

waiting for me. I also found Celtic Woman and two books-one picture book of Frankenstein's wedding [I saw the artwork and had to get it] and the other was about children's book illustration.

In other news, for several weeks my insides have not been cooperative and I suspect being lactose intolerant, athough gluten intolerancy runs in the family. What if it were soy? All my imitation-meat products would be gone! What would I eat? I shall be getting tested soon. Let us hope for mere stomach ulcers.

Some of the other Scalpel SL,UTs are getting together this week to do a costumed photoshoot-with a very talented makeup artist, may I add. As in dreadlocks, stitches, and the most important-covering blemishes that have been attacking me of late. It should be really fun; I look forward to it.

Also working on a pair of bloomers.

Typhoid out.

Twas my birthday.

I was sick, sore, and tired on my birthday, as expected, so it was a low key birthday.

Sir Barlow, my cello, being my main gift I picked out a few weeks ago, meant that there wasn't going to be much more, which is fine by me. I can't wait for my arm to stop hurting so I can get back to playing Barlow.

But I did get some stuff: chapstick [always needed], black nail polish [can't have too much], the Encyclopedia Horrifica, Halloween socks that will replace my old holey Halloween socks, two strawberry daquiri Sobes, notecards, a necklace, a book about the IQ of your cat, some money and cards from the relatives, two shirts and a pair of pants [I'll be exchanging the pants and one of the shirts], and my late Christmas present/birthday present of a picture of me, Elise, and Megan doing a night photo at camp on a decorated mount and two cans of Pringles.

The next day, Scott decided to throw a split birthday party for Garret and me. I brought Serenity because both us birthday kiddos like it. We had an abundance of chips, doughnuts, and soda. We got sung to and had tortilla chips to blow out. I mellowed on the couch as I always do, but it was a fun shindig.

Yesterday I used a birthday present at Barnes and Noble to get Rammstein's Live Aus Berlin album, which had the same price as the three other Rammstein albums, but had more songs, so I figured I was getting more bang for my buck [kudos to me for being economical]. And I also got a book about female serial killers-it's very interesting. I wouldn't mind being a criminal psychologist or something.

And I am unusally tired. End transmission.

The Birthday Prophecy...

I turn 19 on April 9, 2009. Flip that upside down and it's 6-6-6. And I thought it was cool when I turned 9 on April 9, 1999. I was thinking of fulfilling the Book of Revelation [I was actually watching a show about how the castastrophies could be timed natural disasters yesterday] but we're on the road to that already by ourselves.

I already got my main present because I had to pick it out-my cello. I still haven't named it yet-I'm thinking Barlow. But being sick and in a great deal of pain, I haven't been able to mess around on it the last week, let alone get into checking out teacher referrals.

Aside from waking at 2:15ish this morning and not going back to sleep [mania?], being sick, and being in pain, I was getting into one of our crappy reclining chairs and somehow made my knee go askew so it hurts to bend the joint.

So I likely won't be doing anything tomorrow.

Instacrap.

I've been up since 2:15 or so. I don't remember if I had a dream or just woke up. And I can't get back to sleep and likely won't because of my sleep schedule. And I don't want to take any more pills. I've been saying that last one since I was twelve.

I've been ill lately and went to instacare again and after a twenty minute breathing, x-rays, and tests, it is confirmed that I don't have anything. I feel crappy all the time-I know when something's unusually crappy and warrants some looking in to. My oxygen level was in the low 90s, suggesting something like pneumonia, hence the breathing treatment and x-rays, which appeared to have something and then nothing. I wasn't in there for my lungs anyway. It was the pain, the nausea, the fevers, the antibiotics that weren't treating my sinus infection and if the pills were making me sick.

So two and a half hours later, it was determined I didn't have anything. You'd think a person like me would be relieved not to have anything, but something's in my system and I can feel it, pissing me off.

They gave me some anti-nausea medication and some pills that should make my last sinus infection pill work better by making "things open up."

It makes me think of the time Bryan told me he went to the doctor for heartburn and they sent him out saying he had a bladder infection and he said, "No, up here!" Ha.

Let's see if it gets worse, but either way I will be sick on my birthday tomorrow. Whooo.

In vein.

"Never did I wanna be here again/And I don't remember why I came." -Voodoo, by Godsmack.

Sitting like a proper Victorian girl is terribly uncomfortable. Legs down, back straight. I like to sit cross-legged and ruin my posture. Why am I sitting like a proper girl, you ask. Because my scabs will split otherwise, meaning cleaning with rubbing alcohol, the smell of which brings back every memory of being poked with needles, hooked to an IV bag, and throwing up. The smell sickens me. Who doesn't hate hospitals?

So here's the occurance of events.

1. Home alone.
2. Feeling sick, as always.
3. Feeling very nauseous, which happens less frequently than feeling sick, but far more often than I would like. I keep my mouth shut about it most of the time [for more than one reason...get it? Barf humor?]
4. I sat on the bathroom floor dry heaving, but couldn't throw up. Which hurts one's abdominal muscles terribly. And the gag reflex muscles in your throat. "Make yourself throw up, you'll feel better!" Nope. I tried and ended up having half my sinus infecting come out my nose and mouth instead. That was unpleasant.

And then I thought, "I can't take this anymore."

And in a sudden breakdown, I went downstairs in my room and found one of the many plastic vials of exact-o blades I have, courtesy of Weber State University. I then took one of my pillows [it needed to be retired anyway], pulled off the pillowcase, and put on some comfy capris.

I put the pillow in the bathtub and wished bathtubs were lined with pillows because I could probably sleep rather well in them.

"I'm...infected
I'm infected
I'm infected by your genetics

Shilo, I'm the doctor
Shilo, I'm your father
Oh, Shilo, that was close!
Take your medicine

I'm infected by your genetics
Shilo, you're my patient
Shilo, be more patient
You have limitations-don't go chasing flies

I must be protective

You cannot be reckless!
That's what is expected when you are infected

I'm infected by your genetics
I'm infected by your genetics
And I don't think that I can be fixed

No, I don't think that I can be fixed

Tell me why, oh why are my genetics such a bitch?

It's this blood condition
Damn this blood condition!

Mother, can you hear me?
Thanks for the disease!
Now I am sequestered

Part of the collection

That's what is expected when you are infected

That's what is expected when you are infected

That's what is expected when you are infected

How much of it's genetics?
How much of it is fate?
How much of it depends on the choices than we make?

He says I have her eyes-did I also inherit his shame?

Is heredity the corporate? 'Cause stop it
Or am I a slave?

I'm infected by your genetics
I'm infected by your genetics

What hope has a girl who is sick?

My dream of a life beyond this fence

It really makes no difference

'Cause I know that I'll never be fixed

Tell me why, oh why are my genetics such a bitch?

Oh, I want to go outside

Outside
Oh, I want to go outside

Outside."

-Infected, from Repo! The Genetic Opera.

I needed to cut, of course. I didn't plan. Spur-of-the-moment. "It's quick. It's clean. It's pure. It could change your life, rest assured..." After all, it's much better than using drugs or alcohol or sex, yes?

"Did I want to live

Within the empty space

My sleep numbed my pain

Now I'm awake

My sanity has gone

Little girl screams

For life's release

Don't hold me back I want to fall

Little girl pleads

For life's disease

To mourn away my soul

Did I want to die

Pain consumed me inside

Heaven on my tongue

Drunk down with suicide

Beyond self control

My urge has gone

Little girl screams

For life's release

Don't hold me back I want to fall

Little girl pleads

For life's disease

To mourn away my soul

Time does not heal

A shame so surreal

Little girl screams

For life's release

Don't hold me back I want to fall

Little girl pleads

For life's disease"

-"Suicide on My Mind," by Angtoria.

I put the pillow in the bathtub, laid down, and opened a capsule of blades. Unlike some, I don't have a method to cutting. Ambidextrous in all directions and destinations.

A few cuts wasn't enough this time.

"... Don't label me,

not a minority

Society created me

First cut's the neatest, I didn't feel a thing

Don't show me your pity

Second cut's the deepest, a release from within

Don't try to analyze me

Carve pretty pictures of hatred

Avert your eyes, my artwork doesn't lie

Refuse to acknowledge me

I'm not what you want to see

So inject and study me

Pump me with hypocrisy

Third cut's the longest, I just lost control

No doctor can save me

Fourth cut's the boldest, I've an eye for detail

Don't try to admit me

My condition has no name

It's not like I'm insane

Redirect your empathy

My body's my vengeance

I'm addicted to pain

No one understands me."

-excerpt from "Do You See Me Now?" by Angtoria.

What was going on in my head, you ask, that would cause someone who's better off than 95% percent of the world to do such an 'abomination?' It was rather a frenzied flurry of thoughts, so I will list what I can remember and then you, reader, must squash them together so they all occur at once.

1. I can't keep living like this.
2. I'm always sick and always will be.
3. The illnesses have only been considered legit within the last few years and has rarely been explained to or seen by the general public, whose skepticism makes me appear lazy and attention-deprived. I mean, would you have heard of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome if you didn't know me? Or believed it?
4. My insides don't match my insides. Why should anyone believe I need fifteen hours of sleep when I'm exhausted from lounging around the house? I don't look sick. Therefore, convincing people I'm not a liar for so long makes me want to be a liar because that would be so much easier. Take a chemo patient and a person with Chronic Fatigue. They're both exhausted all the time. But who would you donate money to? Who would you jog a marathon for?
5. Why aren't the pills working? Why aren't the hundreds of dollars giving me a result-an improvement? It's been four fucking years. I'm sorry-I don't swear unless I'm at the end of my rope and mean it.

A second part was addressed to God, who I have to assume exists based on other people's words and happy feelings. Any other Mormon would condemn-look down at me for "doubting" but if God exists, he gave me a dysfunctional brain that releases or doesn't release chemicals like thy should, therefore meaning I'm too depressed [which isn't all sad, whiny, stuff, you know]to get your standard Holy-Ghost-testimony-thank-a-thon-testimony-meeting-happy-content-feeling and because of that, I'm on pills that also mean I wouldn't get that anyway.*

*Antidepressants don't fix chemicals in your head. They lessen the severity. Meaning you're rather apathetic and "blah" all the time as opposed to "this is a futile existance-blah." You don't get "happy chemicals." That's not the purpose of the pills-it's to lessen the sad gloomy doomy feelings and to keep you from hitting the lowest of the low. The pills keep you in between and they make you numb. They make you a functioning member of society and get you out of your room, but nothing further. You do feel happy when you get your favorite food, when your favorite team scores--just a little and you see other people be truely happy [if only for a moment]and realize that's never going to happen to you. Making you depressed again, making you get more pills, and the cycle repeats itself.

"Happy, happy, happy, all the time-shock treatment, I'm doin' fine/ Gimme gimme shock treatment, gimme gimme shock treatment, gimme gimme shock treatment, I wanna wanna shock treatment!"-an excerpt from "Shock Treatment" by The Ramones.

And then people have to resort to drugs for happiness. I haven't done that. I paid attention in the DARE program. I'm not stupid, but sometimes it'd be so easy to find "zydrate" [Repo! reference there], being anything from pot to morphine to crystal meth-just for a moment of happiness, just so I know it exists.

Back to God.

I was in hysterics during the event. Really, I was screaming and kicking and the whole shebang. I carved "Why has thou forsaken me?" on my leg. Kinda choppy font, ha. Why? Well, I have no proof for myself the guy upstairs exists, but it was poetic. Could be addressed to humanity, too. And my health.

"...For once, my Lord, please help me believe in you..."-The Prize of Beauty, by My Dying Bride.

1. Why would God make a body that is physically unable to determine if he exists, let alone incapable of having the chemicals required to "feel his presence" if he wants to be believed in?
2. Why would God give me these illnesses that people don't believe in? To make me stronger? It hasn't. I'm not fucking Job. Having some one-on-one talk with God would make the loss of animals and wives and crap make sense and therefore not a trial.
3. Why is suicide considered a sin? Excluding people who'd take a cyanide pill to protect their country or kill themselves before being tortured to dead, because those are excusable. I've been 'wired' to kill myself. There's already plenty of martyrs for mental health. IF God said, "Okay, your big life struggle will be with depression," then I am exempt from consequences, having not a physically right mind, and maybe even supposed to try and kill myself.

I lost one of my friends to suicide, so I have thought these questions out. I'm becoming more like Bones daily. Hrm. And wouldn't you have questions when you see so much hypocrisy in all religions? Didn't Joseph Smith do the same thing?

"Being consciousness is a torment
The more we learn is the less we get
Every answer contains a new quest
A quest to non existence, a journey with no end..."
-excerpt from Epica's Sensorium.

"Indoctrinated minds so very often
Contain sick thoughts
And commit most of the evil they preach against
Don't try to convince me with messages from God
You accuse us of sins committed by yourselves
It's easy to condemn without looking in the mirror
Behind the scenes opens reality
Eternal silence cries loud for justice
Forgiveness is not for sale
Nor is the will to forget..."-excerpt from Epica's Cry for the Moon.

"[I. Impasse of Thoughts]
I can't see you, I can't hear you
Do you still exist?
I can't feel you, I can't touch you,
Do you exist?
The Phantom Agony
I can't taste you, I can't think of you,
Do we exist at all?
[II. Between hope and despair]
The future doesn't pass
And the past won't overtake the present
All that remains is an obsolete illusion
We are afraid of all the things that could not be
A phantom agony
Do we dream at night
Or do we share the same old fantasy?
I am a silhouette of the person wandering in my dreams
Tears of unprecedented beauty
Reveal the truth of existence
We're all sadists
The age-old development of consciousness

Drives us away from the essence of life
We meditate too much, so that our instincts will fade away
They fade away
What's the point of life
And what's the meaning if we all die in the end?
Does it make sense to learn or do we forget everything?
Tears of unprecedented beauty
Reveal the truth of existence
We're all pessimists
Teach me how to see and free the disbelief in me
What we get is what we see, the Phantom Agony
[III. Nevermore]
The lucidity of my mind has been revealed in new dreams
I am able to travel where my heart goes
In search of self-realization
This is the way to escape from our agitation
And develop ourselves
Use your illusion and enter my dream..."

-The Phantom Agony, by Epica.

I don't know how far I wanted to go. If I wanted to die. I was stepping in shallow water, and then I'd take another step, and another. I'd have my proof if I did die-something or nothing at all. So I went step by step. The deep ones out of rage, the words out of philosophy hoping for an answer that never came, little ones I don't remember much, and some longer ones tested out on the arms-experimenting, tempting fate. There's a phrase to cutting if that's your suicidal route: "Don't run across the street, walk down the sidewalk." Long cuts down your arms are more efficient-they cover more blood vessels and don't have to be as hacked as vertical wounds would. The science of suicide.

And I was tired. I wanted to sleep a little before continuing. I am always tired. "I know it can be worse than this/So I prefer to sleep." Sometimes I dream lucid and can take control and be healthy in a dream; I'm running around doing things with friends and then I wake up and I cry because I can't run around and don't have friends to do it with.

Don't have friends? Nope. I know people. They've done what they're supposed to do. Move on. Just watch Animal Planet-only the strongest survive. They go work, go to school, go out and post their happy little pictures on the internet of them and the new people they've found. They claim to be too busy to hang out, but then they post cutesy little pictures of them with "the crew." Why should they care? I'm not terminal. I'm not going anywhere. The lying does sting though, and they think I don't notice, but I sit at a computer all day [what am I to do? It's my link to the outside world] and you gladly display them for the public. Oh-you have free time and friends and smear it in my face. But I don't pull a Columbine or try and damage your reputation on the internet. Nope. I suffer at the sidelines because science, history, instinct-because I know my place and hold my tongue like a proper lady does.

Continuing back to the bathroom.

I realized then that someone would come home and find me in the bathtub. How embarassing...not really, but the sister's bound to snap and pull an Ophelia anytime now and the brother would become more disturbed and therefore smoke more and be a drug addict at age fifteen.

"my friend has problems with winter and autumn

they give him prescriptions, they shine bright lights on him

they say it’s genetic, they say he can’t help it

they say you can catch it - but sometimes you’re born with it

my friend has blight he gets shakes in the night

and they say there is no way that they could have caught it in

time takes its toll on him, it is traditional

it is inherited

predisposition

all day i’ve been wondering what is inside of me, who can i blame for it

i say:it runs in the family, this famine that carries me

to such great lengths to open my legs

up to anyone who’ll have me

it runs in the family, i come by it honestly

do what you want ‘cause who knows it might fill me up

my friend’s depressed, she’s a wreck, she’s a mess

they’ve done all sorts of tests and they guess it has something to do with her grandmother’s

grandfather’s grandmother civil war soldiers who

badly infected her

my friend has maladies, rickets, and allergies that she dates back to the 17th century

somehow she manages - in her misery - strips in the city

and shares all her best tricks with

me? well, i’m well. well, i mean i’m in hell.

well, i still have my health

(at least that’s what they tell me)

if wellness is this, what in hell’s name is sickness?

but business is business!

and business

runs in the family, we tend to bruise easily

bad in the blood i’m telling you ‘cause

i just want you to know me

know me and my family

we’re wonderful folks but

don’t get too close to me ‘cause you might knock me up

mary have mercy now look what i’ve done

but don’t blame me because i can’t tell where i come from

and running is something that we’ve always done

well and mostly i can’t even tell what i’m running from

i run from their pity

from responsibility

run from the country

and run from the city

i can run from the law

i can run from myself

i can run for my life

i can run into debt

i can run from it all

i can run till i’m gone

i can run for the office

and run from the ‘cause

i can run using every last ounce of energy

i cannot

i cannot

i cannot

run from my family

they’re hiding inside me

corpses on ice

come in if you’d like

but just don’t tell my family

they’d never forgive me

they’ll say that i’m crazy

but they would say anything if it would

shut me up me up me up me up....."

-Runs in the Family, by Amanda Palmer.

Therefore, I had to make sure it would be a parent who found me, but dad has no cell phone and mum's phone is off. I was so tired I wanted to sleep, but I kept screaming at God and kicking the bathtub. To have enough blood spill so I could pass out and sleep. Little exact-o blades aren't very good at that. To compensate for blade size meant cutting more. So I did. If I had done some better planning, I would have found a bigger blade and saved myself a lot of work. It's economics at work. Sometime during this, in a bloody mess of, well, blood, tears, and phlegm I left Josh a message. I don't remember what I said except that I was thinking about not wanting my family to see me or something. I was thinking between "I can't clean this up by myself" and "I will get a knife and do more damage." And still hesitant about going through with it. Some rationality? And then Josh called and said he'd come and asked if the front door was open. And I dozed for a little while, thinking I should try to bleed on myself so it wouldn't be too difficult to clean up, which I did. I remember that the shirt I was wearing I wore to Sam's viewing and the morbid irony of it all. And I dozed off until the door flew open and an audible "Shit."

The medical half of me was thinking "They're only superficial so far, just get some saltwater" and the other half wanted to be kicking and screaming like I had been because I've had enough and it was all building up. But that'd mean a trip to UNI. That place is terrible at what they do and the very sight of it makes anyone want to rebel. They really are terrible-I'm not just saying that because I went there.

Here's an English translation of Rammstein's Zerstören. What I wanted to do:

"I want to tend to my things

and reduce the rest to rubble

Ripping, bashing

Crushing, picking

I go along the garden fence

And feel the urge again

I must destroy

But only if it doesn't belong to me

I must destroy

But only if it doesn't belong to me
No
I'll take your belongings

I'll annihilate them

Sawing, stripping

Not asking, smashing

And now the supreme discipline

Pulling the head off a doll

Hurting, tearing, corroding

Destroying

But only if it doesn't belong to me

I must destroy
No
I would like to destroy something

But only if it doesn't belong to me

I want to be a good boy

But the desire overtakes me

I must destroy

But only if it doesn't belong to me
No
Ripping, bashing

Crushing, picking

Chopping and stealing

Not asking, smashing

Tearing, hurting

Burning, then running

Sawing, stripping

Breaking, avenging
He met a girl that was blind

Shared pain and like-minded

Saw a star go from the sky

And wished that she could see
She opened her eyes

And left him in the same night."

Adults don't throw temper tantrums and if they did, where? People say to punch a pillow, take a walk, draw, write in your journal, do fucking karate. I've done it all to every degree and spectrum-it doesn't work. If I could Zerstören [oh, that's German for "destroy," just so you know] maybe these cuts wouldn't be here so often. I need to ruin something- to quote Angtoria, "My body's my vengeance."

If God exists and he's watching, I hope he saw the monument I built for him on my skin.

I could hear Josh's mum talking on the phone. Why did she have to be brought in? I wish for as little people as possible because then they have me on their heads-another weight to worry about in a world that's halfway down the toilet.

The police came and asked me questions. I messed up the date of yesterday and thought "Shit, now they'll think I'm high or something." I later found out they filled out a pink slip or something that suggests I might be a danger to myself in the future [that's called being bipolar, fuzz]but I had no behavior to warrant such a suggestion except I was too collected, which I had assumed was a good thing in "emergencies." Like how calm serial killers are. I know a lot of medical things, but if I said I was a nurse in training or something, I don't think I would have gotten that slip. I don't talk like most teenagers. That's the literary knowledge, also considered "creepy."

I was at the hospital for four hours. most of which was useless. The last thing they did was clean the wounds-wouldn't that be first priority? Before they start scabbing and getting germy and have to be scrubbed?

No. Pioneer Valley Hospital has always been backwards when I've been there.

My wrists are bleeding-my urine sample can wait! They did a pregnancy test-what does that have to do with anything? Tetanus shot-understood. I was up for a new one anyway and given I used metal. I didn't feel it. I do now. Allergy shots swell, itch, and ache. Tetanus shots feel like a sledgehammer bruised your bone. And then there were blood tests-five vials. Didn't pass out and if my urine test shows I'm not on drugs, why are you taking my blood? There's plenty of it scabbing on my legs-swab some of that.

The crisis person was too naive to be a crisis person, but judged I could be sent home.

And then they finally came in and scrubbed those cuts open again. When the anesthetic soap kicked in, it wasn't so bad. Cold water hurt most.

I just realized something-the police asked if I needed my purse, which I did, and I instructed them to go in my room since I couldn't go get it myself. Maybe that's why they filed a pink slip-I have a doll of Edgar Allan Poe, a black curtain with bats on it, a bunch of pills [all my prescriptions, mind you], a Stolen Babies shirt tacked to my wall with the image of a silhouette of a little girl with a hatchet, my postcard I bought from Body Worlds of the veins of a rabbit on my wall, and my favorite fictional good looking drug dealer, Graverobber, pinned to my wall. Ooh, I think my book on forensics entitled Corpse was on the floor, too. Haha. Just your standard goth discrimination. Pisses me off, though. I believe I should know what they saw or heard to consider me dangerous.

Anyway, I got home at one in the morning and didn't get to sleep because the cops took my melatonin. Idiots. It's a vitamin! It's in your skin! It helps me sleep! It's natural! Geez. I fell asleep around 6:something.

I'm on six hours of sleep at the moment. That's about 45 minutes when compared to the average adult. Don't mess with me.

Where do we go from here? I don't know, don't care, and can only wait for the next cycle.

Repo! Shadowcast.

I just found out that Utah has a Repo! shadowcast and I requested a spot and am in! Our state is called The Scalpel SL,UTs [each state has a different "team name" relating to the movie somehow and yes, the term "scalpel slut" is used in the movie for those addicted to plastic surgery].

Some spots were taken and others already had a preset mold that I didn't want to adhere to, so I am a Zydrate addict. Zydrate is a blue, glowing drug taken through a gun for pain relief. Since this takes place in a future of organ failure, GeneCo uses the drug for anesthesia, but people are getting unnecessary parts-body makeovers, surgeries daily-new eyes, new faces, and therefore there are plenty of Zydrate addicts in the grottos and alleyways. Like the morphine and opium addicts of the 1800s.

Shadowcasts try to get a person for each character of the film, to have them be able to dress the part and by whatever means making more people aware of this film [and getting people who worked on it here for screenings, q & a sessions, signings, etc.]. There's a shadowcast for I don't-know-how-many-states, but a lot. And it's quite successful.

Here's a picture of some junkies around GraveRobber:

Bits of dyed hair, knee high boots, leather and lace and stripes and stained corsets. Combine some steampunk, some cybergoth, a little vinyl, and grunge it up for a vintage-meets-futuristic-goth-meets-the DI. I already have all of that, haha. Speaking of which, I need to get started on my black and brown vertically striped bloomers; I found a dress at the DI made of the perfect material so I didn't have to hunt it down at a fabric store.

Time to sleep, for tomorrow I deconstruct.

I want to go outside.

I actually went out last night. Kudos to myself for changing my environment. I'm not used to being around that many people [and there weren't even ten of us]and interacting with them.

Scott suggested watching anime, but I don't watch anime. Apparently, Cairo doesn't either. So we were trying to think of other things to do and somehow we decided to feed the rest of Scott's birthday cake to ducks at a nearby park. But Scott insisted on waiting for some people, so we had to think of something to do. So Scott decided to waste a can of soda and throw it in the parking lot and see if it would explode. It was a sad little explosion, so I suggested an egg, which had a more satisfactory explosion.

And then I blurted out the idea of playing egg baseball. We went through several eggs and I documented it. It wasn't as messy as it could have been so we decided to plan a day to do it with much more eggs and frying pans and stuff. Here is the yolk of my work:

And then it was starting to get dark, so regardless of who wasn't there, we decided to take a plate of birthday cake out to the ducks and see if they'd eat it.

The road to the park was a lot longer than I thought it would be, but it was a really cool park. It was surrounded by a stream and bridges and I found a hole in the roots of a riverbank tree that looked liked a troll lived in it. There were scattered playgrounds and pavillions and we played freeze tag in the dark. I never got tagged AND managed to unfreeze Cairo when Scott was right next to him [Scott being "it," this was very cool on my part]. Most physical activity I've had for a while-I outran Scott's Sonic Speed and made it to the safe rock. Oh, the ducks ignored the bits of cake completely. And out of the blue, Cass called [the fact that his phone was busted making it more out of the blue] and I must get working on the interactive, colorful letter-coloring book thing he demanded, ha.

I woke up today with an uneasy stomach. Reminder that I have to be sodding housebound.

But I went to the library and found some Nightwish and Satyricon cds and then drove to the craft store and saw in the dollar aisle a bunch of stationary and picture frames decorated in a Victorian Damask wallpaper style. I stocked up on things. Picture frames will give me something to keep me occupied-repainting them and stuff.

Now I am here, listening to Repo! The Genetic Opera. I really need a copy of this movie. I've seen a couple snippets, read the plotline, and am becoming familiar with the amazing soundtrack. Not to mention Graverobber is really hot AND he worked on the soundtrack with Melora Creagar from Raspu-freaking-tina on the cello [I adore her], which made him more perfect. Here's a picture of him:

Yeah-he looks like a goth elf. Take that, Orlando Bloom!

Plus the movie stars Anthony Stewart Head, who I've known as Rupert Giles since second grade on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He's got a set of lungs!

And that's all for now because my stomach doth protest too much.

In my hour of need...?

So appropriately enough, I had an appointment with my psychiatrist tonight and he wasn't there. Ha. When the people who are doing the most damage ditch me I get sad but when the people who are trying to help disappear, "ehh...!" It was weird because the whole office was closed. But the lady who's always at the check-in seems to have her head in different places. So I got a veggie burger and chapstick and strawberry milk. Much better than having one's noggin combed for brain lice.

And this is the best psychiatrist I've been to so far-see how little I care! :)

Infected.

"I'm...infected
I'm infected
by your genetics
Shilo, I'm the doctor
Shilo, I'm your father
Oh, Shilo, that was close!
Take your medicine
I'm infected by your genetics
Shilo, you're my patient
Shilo, be more patient
You have limitations, don't go chasing flies
I must be protective
You cannot be reckless
That's what is expected when you are infected
I'm infected by your genetics
I'm infected by your genetics
And I don't think that I can be fixed
No, I don't think that I can be fixed
Tell me why, oh why are my genetics such a bitch?
It's this blood condition
Damn this blood condition!
Mother, can you hear me?
Thanks for the disease!
Now I am sequestered
Part of the collection
That's what is expected when you are infected
That's what is expected when you are infected
That's what is expected when you are infected
How much of it's genetics?
How much of it is fate?
How much of it depends on the choices that we make?
He says I have her eyes, did I also inherit his shame?
Is heredity the corporate, 'cause stop it or am I a slave?
I'm infected by your genetics
I'm infected by your genetics
What hope has a girl who is sick?
My dream of a life past this fence
It really makes no difference
'Cause I know that I'll never be fixed
Tell me why, oh why are my genetics such a bitch?
Oh, I want to go outside
Outside
Oh, I want to go outside
Outside."

-Infected/Shilo Wakes from Repo! The Genetic Opera. Listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nc_vPF6JozQ

"The blood is the life," -Dracula.

Can you tell I was having a breakdown on that last post? Ha. Manic depression does that to ya! Or life in general, rather. I alluded to that to Josh via instant messaging and he said "I know how you feel" but he really can't [I could make a very long list as to why].

That night I cut myself as usual when these things happen. "How dreadful!" you think. No, not really. Your body releases endorphins when in pain and it's much more effective than any anti-depressant because it tackles so many frustrations at once. Science proves it, and psychiatrists say that unfortunently, it works, and that if it keeps you from killing yourself, do it to a controlled degree. I was not attempting suicide. And I'm proud to say I do a good job of cutting and I'm not afraid to talk about it.

1. Cut horizontally. Cutting vertically does more damage.
2. Your instrument must be clean and only use it once, then dispose of it.
3. Clean the wound vigorously to prevent infection.
4. Dress the wound appropriately-make sure it has room to breathe so it doesn't stick to a dry dressing because you'll tear it open again.
5. Keep it clean and when you can, let it "air out."

My cut was at the most, borderline three stitches. And I felt much better afterwards. Two days later it is beginning to close even though I flex and contract the muscles it's on. And no more bandaging!

I feel much better, for the moment. I usually purge every few months when things build up to a point where I can't handle it. Addict behavior? I don't think so since it's few and far between. Last resort? Yes. It does hurt sometimes and other times I don't feel it at all. And it's definently not constricted to the "angsty mentally unstable teen" group. You'd be surprised.

Out for now.

A slow decay.

Analysis of previously blogged dream symbolism:

Obviously I don't want to be eaten alive [who does?], like to fight the supernatural, and have a lot of issues. Dig deeper. I don't feel like I'm being heard. Why? Because I sleep fifteen hours or more. I don't change out of pajamas. I don't eat much because I sleep more. Since I'm not terminal or in a wheelchair, people don't take it seriously. Many don't believe that half my "conditions" exist.

I was one of the few in my class to go to college instead of working part-time and hanging out with friends the rest of the time. I had no money, no friends, was alienated and swamped with things I hadn't been taught. The dorm conditions were terrible and shredded my husk of a body. I would cry nightly. Cut weekly. My teachers were terrible, with one exception. But I assumed it was supposed to be like that and I was doing the right thing. But all those friends back home are happy and prosperous with their part-time jobs, getting cars, getting married [?!], and so busy doing that that they forgot about me.

And here's the good part-I come home because I would have killed myself if I was up there any longer AND everyone flips and goes to school. They are now too busy working and going to school and somehow managing to still party all night. It was like walking into a room and everything's bizarro world, from black to white at the flip of a coin.

So here I lay, in "recovery," for reasons no one thinks legit enough for their precious time to be spent on. People claim their bodies are temples. Mine is a prison.

I don't read much anymore. I lay around and stare. There's nothing for me to do. There is no where to go and no way to get there. Recent events have shown I'm too drugged up and mentally unstable for a license. Not that I have a car like the people who didn't go to school. I can't go outside-I'm allergic to everything out there. I can't work because I have no car, no health, and the economy doesn't bloody help. Why would I ever want to go back to school-to the pressure and money and harassment? Why would I ever want to stay in here in the house sleeping? The hell of everything and the hell of nothing as the world is falling down.

I've been forgotten. Check my empty phone. The lack of responses on the computer. I do reach out. No one fucking answers. I'm screaming in a deaf world.

End transmission.

Got issues? Dream on.

My internet homepage [yahoo.com] had an article about vivid dreams, which I have all the time. So these are the excerpts that relate to me:

You Should See Your Doctor If …You notice symptoms of bipolar disorder or diabetes, since both of these conditions may cause vivid dreaming. Both interrupt REM sleep and therefore affect the body’s ability to separate dreams from waking perceptions. The same effect can occur from taking depression medication, sleep medication, and some over-the-counter drugs. If you notice a recent development of abnormal dreaming associated with a change in your health, it is a good idea to see your doctor to rule out any of these possibilities.

I'm bipolar and taking anti-depressants, sedatives, and over the counter drugs. Ha.

The problem with vivid dreams is separating them from waking reality. However, the practice of lucid dreaming, in which you become increasingly aware of your dreams until you actually develop the ability to control them, may offer a solution that doesn’t stem from any of the root causes listed above. Oneironauts, or lucid dreamers, train themselves to alter their dream experiences to include flight, exotic travel, delicious tastes, and any other vivid experiences they desire.

"Reality sometimes stranger than fiction
Whatever happens in my dreams
I know it can be worse than this
So I prefer to sleep."
-Epica.

Sometimes I'm aware I'm dreaming and use it to do whatever I want. Then I forget or I wake up disappointed to be in reality. It's fun sometimes.

And then there was a link to dream dictionaries and stuff. So here are a few things that reappear in my dreams: with my response in italics:

Maggots: To see maggots in your dream, represents your anxieties about death. It may also be indicative of some issue or problem that you have been rejecting and it is now "eating away" at you . You need to confront it for it is destroying your sense of harmony and balance. Usually there's something rotting my dream or I'm vomiting maggots [and any other grubs that look like them...not earthworms though, I like earthworms].

Crocodiles: To see a crocodile in your dream, symbolizes freedom, hidden strength and power. It forewarns of hidden danger. Someone near you is giving you bad advice and is trying to sway you into poor decisions. Because crocodiles can live in water and on land, they also represent your conscious and unconscious and the emotional and the rational. Perhaps something is coming to the surface and you are on the verge of some new awareness. Alternatively, the crocodile may be an aspect of yourself and your aggressive and "snappy" attitude. Or it may reveal that are being insincere, displaying false emotions and shedding "crocodile tears".To dream that you are chased or bitten by a crocodile, denotes disappointments in love and in business. I dream that I'm in murky water and I know the crocs are there and wait to be eaten alive. They always take bits out of my inner thighs first because I'm afraid of the arteries there being slashed-like in Hannibal. I love Steve Irwin and the work he's done on educating the public on these beautiful creatures, though. Strange.

Sharks: To see a shark in your dream, indicates feelings of anger, hostility, and fierceness. You may be an emotional threat to yourself or to others. You may be going through a difficult, painful, or unpleasant emotional period. Alternatively, it represents a person whom you see as greedy and unscrupulous. This person goes after what what he or she wants with no regards to the well-being and sensitivity of others. The shark may also be an aspect of your own personality which exhibit these qualities. Again, just being eaten alive. I watch too much Animal Planet. Fascinating creatures, though.

Arms: To dream that your arm has been injured, signifies your inability to care for yourself or your helplessness in reaching out to others. You may have been feeling limited and restricted in terms of your freedom or activities. The right arm signifies your outgoing nature and is associated with masculine energy, while your left arm signifies your supportive or nurturing nature and is associated with feminine qualities. Losing either arm may suggest that you are failing to recognize its respective characteristics. I dream about my arteries being cut or I am injured on the inner arm where it's not as tough.


Legs:To dream that you legs are wounded or crippled, signifies a lack of balance, autonomy, or independence in your life. You may be unable or unwilling to stand up for yourself. Perhaps you are lacking courage and refuse to make a stand. A lot of times my legs can't hold my weight and they can't straighten out. Usually I'm carrying a heavy backpack at school.

Lips: To see lips in your dream, signifies sensuality, sex, love, and romance. They are also seen as a means of communication as in the familiar phrase "read my lips". To dream that your lips are blue, indicates possible problems with your blood circulation and even death. Um, I don't dream about lips, I dream with lips. That sounds wrong, haha. But instead of touching things with my fingertips I use my lips like a baby.

Veins: To see your vein in your dream, signifies that you are shielded from slander. To dream that your veins are bleeding, foretells that you will experience great and inescapable sorrow. To dream that your veins are swollen, signifies your hastiness in placing trust. Veins/arteries being cut in tender places.

Aliens: To see aliens in your dream , signifies that you are having difficulties adapting and adjusting to your new surroundings. You are feeling "alienated" and invaded. On a psychological level, seeing aliens may represent an encounter with an unfamiliar or neglected aspect of your own self. It's the aliens from "Signs" and I'm trying to warn people about them. Of course, no one believes me, I'm crippled, and they're able to become invisible.

Demons: To see demons in your dream, represents ignorance, negativity, distress or your shadow self. It also forewarns of overindulgence and letting lust give way to your better judgment. As a result, your physical and mental health may suffer. To dream that you are possessed by demons, indicates ultimate helplessness. When I dream about demons I dream about evil spirits and I'm trying to warn people because I can feel them nearby and that's just stuff you don't mess with. And I'm scared of possession.

Ghost:To see the ghost of a dead friend/relative in your dream, suggests guilt and regrets concerning the past relationships with that particular person. Not "ghost," more of spirit. People who I've lost are there for a little while and I'm sad because I know they can't stay.

Monster: To dream that you are chased or followed by a monster, represents aspects of yourself that you find repulsive and ugly. You may possess some fears or some repressed emotions. To dream that you kill a monster, signifies that you will successfully deal with your rivals and advance to a higher and better position. My monsters eat me alive and they leak black blood.

Soldier: To see a soldier in your dream, signifies discipline or your staunch attitudes. You may be imposing your opinions and feelings on others. Alternatively, you are preparing yourself to do battle over an issue. You feel the need to defend your beliefs, values and opinions. I'm either a soldier of some sort in a post-apocalyptic situation or fighting mythical bad guys. Those are fun dreams.

Superhero: To dream that you are a superhero, indicates your above-average talents, ideas, and abilities you may not realized you possessed. By superhero, I usually am a vampire slayer, haha. Sometimes I can fly a little bit, but flying takes focus and it's more like levitation.

Vampire: To see a vampire in your dream, symbolizes seduction, sensuality, and death. The vampire represents contrasting images of civilized nobility and aggression/ferocity. Alternatively, to see a vampire suggests that you are feeling physically or emotionally drained. The vampire may also be symbolic for someone who is addicted to drugs or someone in an obsessive relationship.To dream that you are a vampire, signifies that you are sucking in the life energy of others for your own selfish benefit. I've been a vampire and have fought vampires, but I've never been a bad vampire. I guess I'm a vampire with a soul!

Zombie: To dream that you are a zombie, denotes that you are physically and/or emotionally detached from people and situations that are currently surrounding you. You are out of touch. I'm not the zombie. I'm fighting the zombies and tend to lose and be eaten alive which leaves me waking up in pain.

Afraid: To dream that you are afraid, indicates that you are experiencing self-doubt and feelings of incompetence in your waking life. You may be feeling a lack of control. Anger often masquerades as fear, so also consider issues about which you are angry about in your waking life.
Anger: To dream that you are feeling much anger, forewarns that you will be involved in a terrible and tense situation. Your loved ones will let your down and disappoint you. It also forewarns that once solid ties will be broken. Being angry in your dream may have been carried over from your waking life. In your dream, you may have a safe outlet to express such emotions. You may have some suppressed anger and aggression that you have not consciously acknowledged.

Anxiety: To dream that you are experiencing some anxiety in some affair, is a reflection of what you may be feeling during your waking life. You may have repressed thoughts, unexpressed emotions, resentment, and hostility that are triggering your anxiety dream. This dream also denotes that you are disastrous mixing business with pleasure. I try to save people in half my dreams against supernatural foes or events-of course I'm anxious!

Confused: To dream that you are confused, may reflect your true confused state of mind and the nonsensical events of your dream. Isolate the single element in your dream that is confusing to you and analyze the meaning of that particular symbol. Alternatively, dreams of confusion signifies that you are being pulled in opposite directions or do not know which viewpoint is right. I get confused when I'm slightly lucid enough to realize "This is weird" but not enough to say "I'm going to use this dream to go to Europe."


Distress: To dream that you or others are in distress, represents worries and unhappiness in your waking life. Things will turn out better than you expected. You will find that your worries were unfounded. Perhaps the dream is telling you to lighten up. I'm distressed because people don't believe me.

Embarrassment: To dream that you are embarrassed, signifies hidden weaknesses, fears and lack of self-confidence. This dream also suggests of insecurities about your sexuality. I'm only embarrassed when I'm in the halls of my high school, carrying a backpack that's way too heavy, and my legs don't hold me but no one believes I can't carry a backpack.

Frustration: To dream that you feel frustrated, represents your difficulty in coping with a situation in your daily life. It may reflect your concerns that your life is not going in the direction you want. I only get frustrated in my dreams when stupid people don't listen to me and I end up being a martyr.

Melancholy:To dream that you are feeling melancholy, signifies disappointment in an event that was assumed to be a success.
To see others melancholy in your dream, signifies unpleasant interruptions in your affairs that need to be tended to immediately. Most of the melancholia is when I'm lucid and realize that at some point I will wake up.


Nausea: To dream that you have nausea, signifies that you are suffering from a sickening situation or condition in which you are trying to rid yourself of. I don't get nauseous but I just kneel and vomit maggots like when Ron Weasley is vomiting slugs.

Pain: To dream that you are in pain, signifies that you are being too hard on yourself with regards to a situation that was out of your control. It may also be a true reflection of real pain that exists somewhere in your body. I feel pain in my dreams when I'm being eaten alive-it's agonizing pain.

Panic: To dream that you are in a panic, indicates a lack of control and power in your life. You may be feeling helpless in some situation or unable to make a clear decision. In a swarming mountain of ravenous, rottting cannibals, yeah.

Rage: To dream that you are in rage, signifies that your bad temper and negative outbursts may lead to loss of friends. People don't listen to me. So I scream. I do the masculine, death metal growls and roars of Angela Gossow. And I swear, haha.

Smothered: To dream that you feel suffocated, signifies that you are feeling smothered by some situation or relationship. Just being smothered by the mountain of dead bodies.

Yearn: To dream that you yearn for someone, foretells that you will find joy and contentment with your present love. Again, only in lucid dreams, I yearn for happy dreams of some sort.

Meals: To see meals in your dream, signifies that you dwell too much on trivial matters and it will divert your attention from more important engagements and matters. Not much food in my dreams. But it's in a meal.

Noodles: To see noodles in your dream, signifies an abnormal appetite and desire. Is ravioli a noodle? I dreamt about it a week or two ago.

Buildings: To see a building in ruins, forewarns of problems in love and/or business accompanied with great loss. Your own self-image has suffered and taken some blow. I'm above the buildings, levitating as I search for "bad guys."

Cafeteria: To dream that you are in a cafeteria, denotes that there may be a lot of issues "eating" you up inside. Part of school dreams. I never eat, though.

Church: To see the outside of the church in your dream, signifies sacredness and spiritual nourishment. It is representative of your value system and the things you hold sacred. To see the inside of a church in your dream, signifies that you may experience some minor setbacks. However, what seems to be nuisances will turn out to be a blessing in disguise. In my dreams, churches are not where you want to be.

City: To see a city in your dream, signifies a sense of community and your social environment. To dream that you are in a deserted city or that you feel alienated from the activity of the city, then it suggests that you feel rejected by those around you. To see a city in ruins, denotes that you are neglecting your social relationships and allowing them to deteriorate. I have a lot of post-apocalyptic dreams and go and kill the unhuman bad guys, whatever they may be.

Classroom: To dream that you are in a classroom, indicates that you may be learning an important life lesson. Alternatively, it symbolizes personal growth. You are learning something about yourself. To dream that you are looking for a classroom, suggests that you need to expand your knowledge and learning. Just part of the school dreams. I miss high school, so my brain is recreating it.

Museum: To see a museum in your dream, indicates that your non-traditional path to success will make you unique and stand out from the rest. Alternatively, the museum may represent a history of yourself and your past. There are many things you can learn from your past and your family's past. Consider what you have gained from these experiences and apply them to your current circumstances. To dream that you are in a museum, represents an opportunity for you to review and reflect on the things you value in life. Lately I've been having a several-night dream about being in a school with a museum inside; a college perhaps, but everyone from high school is there.

PArk: To dream that you are at a park, represents a temporary escape from reality. It indicates renewal, meditation, and spirituality. It also suggests a readjustment period after a serious personal conflict or an ending of a passionate affair. To dream that you are lost in a park, indicates your struggles with your career, relationship, or other problem. You may feel alienated by society. I'm usually running through the parking lot of the park by my house.

Parking Lot: To dream that you are in parking lot, suggests that you need to slow down and take some time to relax from your daily activities. No, it's just in the way of where I'm going.

School: To dream that you are in school, signifies feelings of inadequacy and childhood insecurities that have never been resolved. It may relate to anxieties about your performance and abilities. If you are still in school and dream about school, then it will naturally serve as a backdrop to your dream world. Alternatively, a dream that takes place in school may be a metaphor for the lessons that you are learning from your waking life. You may be going through a "spiritual learning" experience. To dream that you are looking for a school, suggests that you need to expand your knowledge and learning. To dream that your childhood school is in ruins, suggests that you are dwelling on some unresolved childhood issue. Alternatively, the dream represents the passage of time. You need to look toward the future instead of reliving the past. When you're too weak to leave the house and everything was better in the past, that's all I can do. Everyone from high school is too busy to hang out, having the time of their lives. Since it hasn't happened to them, they are physically uncapable of understanding the suffering of the one left behind.

I have found the only reason surveys exist: to lull you to sleep!

...which is why I'm doing this one. And I had to do one of those randomized letters and numbers password verification codes and was almost and actual word: submer. So close! Bananagrams is infecting my life.

Anyhoo, on with the survey that will cure my insomnia.

Are you happy?
No. More apathetic at the moment.

Who are you thinking about? My friends off in distant places. I hope they're all right.

Who do you look up to? Cass. Even if I didn't have the physical problems that I do, I would not survive basic training, let alone go into radio repair without losing my mind and possibly some fingers.

If you could go anywhere where would you go?Europe for as long as I wanted, no cost.

Last person who hugged you?Dana.

Do you miss that person? Yeah, I wanna take and make pictures.

What are you wearing? St-Patty's socks, black comfy pants, red shirt, Ankh ring black nail polish, some hair elastics, my glasses, and hopefully, sheets.

Who are your friends? The people that put up with me.

Do you have a crush on any of your friends?Yeah.

Do you like school? Not liking it was the reason I left.

How old are you? Almost 19. Mentally, 9,000.

Have you had a crush on someone older than you? Yes.

Younger than you?Not that I can think of.

What are two things you love to death? Sleeping, Italian food, objects that
convey "childhood gone wrong," books, toothpaste...more than two, huh?

Do you have a best friend? Sorta.

Do you trust guys?I am fortunate to know and be surrounded by gentlemen in my neighborhood and circle of friends.

What's your favorite thing to do?Sleep.

Do you regret anything? Yes.

Last person you got in a fight with? I haven't really fought. Spats.

Do you regret the fight?Or non-fighting?

Favorite thing to eat? Genuine Italian food, vegetarian.

Favorite drink?The drinks served at La Caille.

Last person you kissed? My cat.

Do you miss them? Not really, they're just outside for the night.

Was this survey boring? That's the point-to bore me into sleeping.

Did you have sex today​ ? No, I did not. Have the hospital dig out a kit and I can prove it.

If you were in the hospi​tal would​ your number one come? She's my sister, so she's kind of supposed to come.

Is anyon​e in your top a virgi​n?​​​​ I don't know about the Stolen Babies.

Have you told anybo​dy you loved​ them today​? No.

Are you curre​ntly wanti​ng any pierc​ings or tatto​os?​​​​ Maybe another pair of earrings.

Were you a cute baby?​​​​No. I improved when I was two.

Have you ever had a panic​ attac​k?​​​​ Yup.

Are you good at givin​g direc​tions​ ?By old maps, yes. Addresses, no.

Last movie​ you watch​ed?​​​​I saw the end of The Fellowship of the Ring on the telly, right as Boromir dies. Waaaahhh! Why, Lurtz, WHY?!

Whose​ voice​ did you first​ hear today​ ? Mein Mutter telling me it was one:thirty and I needed to wake up [but it was early considering I went to sleep at four in the morning.]

Do you belie​ve that there​'​​​​s good in every​ body?​​​​ There's the potential for good in everyone but it often pushed aside.

Do you own Uggs?​​​​ No. I need my boots ready to run.

Who was the last perso​n'​​​​ s voice​ you heard​ ?Mein Mutter telling me to clean my room.

Do you say sexy a lot? Jokingly. Expecially in bananagrams or at the DI.

Hones​tly has anyon​e seen you in your under​ wear? Just in the girls locker room. Or the girl's tent. Or the doctor. Or at UNI for the "make sure they're not self-harming" checkup. But in a way full of innuendos, no.

​Has anyon​e ever given​ you roses​ ? Roses from the family after dance performances and other awards. I got a rose from Ruben for Valentine's Day but it was so doused in cologne that I couldn't keep it in my room because I am hypersensitive to smells.

What are you weari​ng?​​​​ My nightclothing. Makes me sound like Batman. This question was asked twice.

Did you see firew​orks this new years​ ?Yes.

Do you ever turn off your phone​ ?Yes, sometimes.

Do you have a ceili​ng fan in your room?​​​​It's the basement-cold enough already.

Do your paren​ts like your numbe​r one?They conceived her so I assume so.

Who are all your texts​ in your inbox​ from?​​​​Cass, Josh, Dana.

Did you cry today​ ? Not today.

Do you get along​ with girls​ ?I get along with myself only some of the time and I'm a girl so....

Is it easy to make you cry? Certain things, certain triggers.

What would​ you do if your best frien​d died?​​ Probably have a bipolar meltdown since that would be the second close friend that has died within three years.

What do you curre​ntly hear right now? Whirring of vest. Creaking of the house.

Do you think​ you could​ ever get a tatto​o?​​​​ No becaue I kinda don't want one.

What are you doing​ at 3:00 in the morning? ​​​​Either sleeping or trying to sleep.

When is your birth​day?​​​​ 49.

How tall are you? Almost 56.

Do you play video​ games​ ?A pathetic form of escapism, so yes.

​Would​ you ever consi​der pierc​ing your lip? No.

Who was the last guy you talke​d to on the phone​? Mein ferhur.

What are you doing​ after​ this?​​​​Sleeping, hopefully.

What is one thing​ you would​ love to happe​n tomor​row?​​​Go to the downtown library and get some Edgar Allan Poe action figure or Edward Gorey book.

Does it matte​r to you if you gf/bf smokes? Makes me sad, makes them smell bad, and I couldn't be around them during a smoking session. But it's their choice. I could guilt trip them by faking some bloody asthma attack urging them to quit.

Has a boy sat on your bed befor​e?​​​​Yeah.

How was your day?
Dull.

When someo​ne says "we need to talk"​​​​ , what runs throu​gh your mind? What did he do this time?

Are you in a good mood?​​​​ I'm like anti-mood. Not really feeling anything.

Somet​hing you wish for? Cass gets happier as this training goes on.

Do you mind being​ cold?​​​ Apparantly I'm cold all the time, so no.

Do you trust​ all of your frien​ds?​​​​ Yeah.

​Are you allow​ed to stay up later​ than ten o' clock​ on a weekn​ight? Of course, but my body does it anyway.

Have you ever laugh​ed so hard you cried​ ? Yes.

Do you want your phone​ to ring at the momen​t?​​​​I'm not anticipating
anything bad, so go for it.

Has anybo​dy ever given​ you butte​rflie​s?​​​​ Everything gives me butterflies-it's called anxiety.

Have you ever seen the last perso​n you texte​d naked​ ? I'd say the only people in my phone are ones I know but then implies I text naked. Well, as long as it's sanitary, doesn't seem weird to me.

Do you hones​tly belie​ve that good thing​s come to those​ who wait?​​​​ I now want you to listen to a little movie called Sweeney Todd and come back to me with what you've learned.

What do you bite on more,​​​​ your tongu​e,​​​ lip, or nails​ ?Cheek and lips.

Do you have trust​ issue​s?​​​​ I don't think so. Although if I was going on a blind date with a rapist, I might.

Viva la Italia!

Today I slept well for the first time in months. I seem to have found the right cocktail of pills to knock me out and keep me a little tired during the day so I can fall asleep at night. I had so many weird dreams, though. And all having to do with church, haha. Monsters under the floor of the sacrament room and stuff.

Also today, I went on myspace to find that the one and only LACUNA COIL uploaded a song off their upcoming album, Shallow Life, to be released in April. And I really liked it. More guitar soloing than any of their previous albums, and Cristina always improves.

One of Italy's best [and certainly the most well-known] rock bands. I met them and will never tire of saying "I peed next to Cristina in the bathroom!"

Fitting with my new craving for this ravioli my mum found that complete's my stomach's life. Mushroom thyme ravioli drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with parmesian and herb cheese.

Typhoid.

I don't know if it's allergies or a cold or what, but I've been wanting to pop my head like a zit. Ear pressure, sneezing, weeping, congestion-the constant tickle in my nose extends into my eyes and at night it's hard to breathe like when I had pneumonia. I think the asthma that can be caused by allergies is worsening. My eyes are so bloodshot you'd think I'd have been smoking pot or crying for hours. Maybe it's because we now have four cats in the house now. I think people are too quick to put the needs of themselves before animals, so whatever this bug is, I'm not getting rid of any of the cats.

I watched some of the Academy Awards and, with allergies contributing, cried when Heath Ledger won Best Supporting Actor and his parents and sister came out to accept it for his little girl, Matilda. I really liked Heath Ledger and I think God snatched him up too early.

I read this small zombie novel last night and it was really good-not what I was expecting. People are regaining control over the planet but the colony the story takes place in don't kill zombies if they don't have to out of their respect for the dead, so the put them in containment facilities. And one half of the book is about a girl coming of age in this colony, but the other is from one of the zombies' point of view. He found his wallet and remembers how to read and doesn't want to eat humans [his first bite tasted gross to him]and an army dude notices that he's different and befriends him and takes him out on field trips and stuff. And the zombie finds a girl zombie [who is slightly more inclined to eating people than he is]and he teaches her "manners" and they become friends and later on, an integral part to the colony. They can't talk, just moan and grunt and wheeze, but they understand talking and the female zombie [Lucy]can remember how to play the violin. A viewpoint of a zombie-I don't think that's been done before, and certainly not a vegetarian zombie.

The book is entitled Dying to Live: Life Sentence, by Kim Paffenroth. So go read it. Now.

I really, really hate the DMV.

I had one day until my permit expired. I can drive, just not while being watched and scrutinized and slightly drugged and possibly sick.

Why didn't I get it in high school? I missed half of driver's ed due to illness and the teacher is seriously a pedophile. No way I would drive by myself with him.

And then the night before going to take the road test, I started a new sleep medication. My brother woke me up at 3:15 in the afternoon and the appointment was at 4:00. I woke up feeling medicated and sore. I had just enough time to swallow a banana, chug down my pills with a glass of milk, and brush my teeth.

It didn't take long for the road test person to come out. I felt so doped up. I think that's what a hangover feels like. I felt similar once after taking cold medicine with my meds a few years ago and being knocked out on the floor. So I was focused on looking alert. Driving slowly, always checking for invisible cars.

What did the damage? I ran a stop sign [don't remember that], botched a three point turn [which I can do and have done], and didn't parallel park well enough [not my best point, but who parallel parks in Utah?].

Afterwards, since I only had a day left on my permit, we had to wait half an hour to renew that and that's when I really started feeling sick along with the medicinal hangover. I think I'm getting a cold. My throat was killing me and I had the aches I get when I'm sick where it hurts to touch things, let alone sit on those horrible plastic chairs. And the shakes. My mom left and bought some juice. I think there was some mild dehydration considering I'd only had a small cup of milk in however many hours.

So I have another six months to "practice." I went home, ate some macaroni, and went to bed. No new sleeping pill this time, so although hangover-free, I'm certain I have a cold.

A lovely story. The end.

Vampire?!

The last week I haven't slept well.

Wednesday: 5'O Clock [1 melatonin, 2 depakote, 2 ambien, 1 clonopin, 2 tylenol PM, I think]
Thursday: 3'O Clock
Friday: 1'O Clock
Saturday: 2'O Clock
Sunday: 2'O Clock.

And that's with a few sedatives.

I watched this documentary on the impact of vampires on moderen culture [obviously made before Stephanie Meyer came about] and some of the people who thought they were vampires were really hokey so during the commercials of old people getting health insurance my dad and my sister and I kept pointing out which old people were vampires because "vampires are all around us and look just like you and me!" Especially this old little black lady with large dentures.

So methinks I am a vampire because I'm slowly becoming nocturnal, haha.

Urgh. And to top it off, a visit to the therapist at 10:30 in the morning [early for me]. But maybe I can get some elephant tranquilizers or something. A dart gun.

This will make it difficult to do my new and first calling of primary teacher. I don't know what age group I'll have or anything, but I haven't been able to go to church because I'm too tired.

I got twelve hours of sleep and I'm dead on my feet.

"4'O Clock

4'O Clock

Never let me sleep

I close my eyes and pray

For the garish light of day

Like a frightened child I run

From the sleep that never comes

4'O Clock

4'O Clock

Out of bed I creep

To climb this tower of shame

But the hour's still the same

Only madness knows my name

At 4'O Clock

4'O Clock

4'O Clock

Never let me sleep

I close my eyes and pray

For the garish light of day

Like a frightened child I run

From the sleep that never comes

4'O Clock

4'O Clock

Out of bed I creep

To climb this tower of shame

But the hour's still the same

Only madness knows my name

At 4'O Clock

Why can we never go back to bed?

Whose is the voice ringing in my head?

Where is the sense in these desperate dreams?

Why should I wake when I'm half-past dead?

Sure as the clock keeps its steady chime

Weak as I walk to its steady rhyme

Ticking away from the ones we love
So many girls, so little time

4'O Clock

4'O Clock

Out of bed I creep

To climb this tower of shame

But the hour's still the same

Only slumber never came

Only madness knows my name

At 4'O Clock."

-by Emilie Autumn.