This is Wordpress, also known as the blogging service of choice when Livejournal isn't self-indulgent enough for you.
The blog we have today is the gag worthy "Lycanthropica | Psycho "babble", big words, and thought exhibition of a twenty-something, chemically managed female brain"
I don't know what Lycanthropica means. Lycanthropy is the disease or condition that causes you to turn into a werewolf. There is a real life mental condition called Lychanthropy where people believe (not like furries believe) they turn into werewolves and kill people. It's a schizotypal disorder I think.
Does this person have that?
Will we ever find out?
We may never know or care.
Watching the Occupy Wall Street movement on TV and reading about it on the internet makes me feel incredibly impotent – meaning, I am very sad that I cannot be there.
Me too. I understand that's a great place to pick up chicks but oh-- the only women I've seen protesting look like men.
What can you do?
I’m stuck in a shitty red town and my room mate’s car isn’t very reliable outside of town; plus, I am not sure if he even cares that much to be a part of the movement (probably not).
Smart man. What possible gain could there be by protesting outside of (maybe) getting laid by a woman so masculine she has to shave and tuck her clitoris?
Just stay home and play the juego I say.
Being poor and immobile and not being able to be around people like me makes me feel like I’m wasting my youth. I can’t really do anything about it. Not right now.
Being a retarded ladybaby is a great way to spend your youth.
This is the reason I post political things on my Facebook page. It’s the only way I can feel involved in the movement. If I lived in a major city, I would be out there every single day protesting corporate and government corruption. Social justice is a huge part of what I’m about, and it makes me sad to be out of reach and not being able to fully participate.
I'm just upset I'm not in a position to abuse my power.
Just biding my time I guess~
Err, right. Social justice is what I'm all about.
My social justice, that is.
Took my meds a bit ago and made some double-decker tacos. Om nom. Couldn’t finish them, so I have leftovers, which is good in my situation. I can’t afford fast food left and right, nor do I have the time and energy to cook everyday. I drained the fat, made the taco meat from ground turkey, and gave my roommate most of the cheese (he loves and needs the calories), so my anxiety over calories should be mostly quelled. Overall, I feel a bit better.
Crazy's on pills. Better not stir her up too much.
I like this Wordpress thing. I wonder if there's a way to browse recent updates? If so, this could be my new stomping ground.
There is one girl whose shell I’ve penetrated
I'LL SAY WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Heh, penetration.
(those under the mental age of 20 need not comment).
So worth it.
It’s convenient that we have sat next to each other in the only two classes we’ve had together over the past 5 years. That way, I was able to get to know her a little at a time, while not threatening her personal space. Now, we talk after every class, and I’m hanging out with her this weekend. I do feel accomplished. My patience and persistence has paid off.
That's a great tactic. Wear them down until they submit to you.
I dunno, we have penetration and submission in one paragraph. I'm reading a lot of Freudian motifs into this that didn't even exist until I injected them in, but I must say it does make this dreck a bit more interesting.
Not much more interesting but a little, I guess.
Baby, do you understand me now?
But other than her, I’ve had trouble communicating with people with hard outer shells. Why do I bother then? Well, sometimes knowing this person is worth the work. It’s paid off with my moody professor (granted, she has a stressful job); now I can count on getting a good letter of recommendation from her. However, I don’t want to be misunderstood –
Sometimes, I seem a little mad--
but don't you know that no one alive
can always be an angel?
When things go wrong I seem to be bad
But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
I don’t exploit people like a clinical narcissist. I’m just attracted to quiet people who are “hard to get”. Maybe because I was once this way and wished people would have persisted with me. Who knows.
If I seem edgy, I want you to know
That I never mean to take it out on you
Life has its problems and I get my share
And that's one thing I never meant to do
Because I love you
Anyway, this post is less inspired than usual. I’ve got a shit-ton of material to look through so I can have a paper written by next week. I do all this work so one day I can snag a gratifying job that pays me $60K a year; that’s what keeps me from dropping out and going to beauty school, or making a living by doing odd jobs, modeling, and creating art – none of which will give me stability or long-term satisfaction.
You weren't kidding about that inspiration thing.
Good grief.
But gotta make bank, I understand.
How this is profiting you I don't know. Even though no one reads this except my own mother at least I can go back and be amused at my own antics and so I keep doing this. I can't imagine going back and reading your blog and thinking anything except how annoying you are.
I used to be a target of verbal abuse. It began with both of my parents, who would put me on a pedestal, then knock me down whenever I didn’t live up to their expectations.
Nope, don't care.
It’s been a long, exhausting week for me, and unless someone’s going to give me cyberkinetic implants sometime soon, I’m not going to expect perfection from myself. It’s fucking ridiculous. I’m doing the best I can without senselessly sacrificing myself, and that’s good enough.
Maybe I misjudged you. We are clearly on the same page in terms of bionic enhancement.
I have a lot of love to give, but few people to give it to.
You know someone who longs for cyberkinetic implants probably shouldn't be saying the phrase "I have a lot of love to give" next post. Hyper kinetic legs aren't for giving love.
I have a heart of stone and I'm prepared to kick people with pneumatic force.
I just need the pneumatic force part.
It’s one thing to look at a person’s picture, or to communicate with someone through messaging. It’s another to be in their presence – because not only are you seeing this person, but you’re smelling them, hearing them, and picking up on every nonverbal cue.
Isn't it gross?
Ugh, God. I just read recently that a study done in I think it was Berkley (of course) says humans have exactly the same number of hairs as chimps, but ours are mostly invisible unless observed under a microscope.
The way a person speaks communicates not merely what they say, but how they feel about themselves, others, life, and their surroundings. And most importantly, this person communicates how (s)he thinks and feels about you. You get the chance to experience this person reacting to you.
Oh, what a privilege.
I can't imagine talking about this like it's some great miracle. This sounds absolutely miserable.
I love noticing little nuances in people’s behavior. I like to observe how a person livens up when they see someone else, or how they shrink away; how a person subconsciously communicates that (s)he is uncomfortable, insecure and attention-starved, or desiring of more intimacy with another.
I hope the only thing you'd sense from me is deep and unnatural revulsion.
Luckily, memory takes these same notes and stores them away for later retrieval. You remember why you were attracted to or avoided someone. Maybe they smelled bad, or had a horrible attitude. Maybe they had sociopathic or narcissistic/histrionic tendencies. Conversely, maybe in reality, their hair waved more beautifully; the soft skin on their face was more noticable; or the frame of their bones and curves put them in sizeable perspective comparative to your own body.
The lot of you are unworthy and reprehensible and I wish to break off contact as quickly as I can.
Where can an intellectually ravenous person find some quality, self-centered entertainment on the internet that isn’t designed for 14 year olds?
>intellectually ravenous
Gag.
Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?
I felt like filling out a survey, and all I find is BS like “Im like a TiMe BomB *(tic)*(tic)*”, or “wut y’all niggaz kno bout me”. I understand that “The Internet” is something that has bypassed many from older generations, so what is the point of catering to their demographic, right? Well, Gen Y – aka my generation – is going to grow up one day and realize that they can no longer relate to the garbage on the internet that used to take up so much of their time; and therefore they will no longer feel like the internet is “theirs”.
Not how a semicolon works.
Someone with a masters in psychology can't work a semicolon. Can we just admit it's not a good punctuation mark and get rid of it?
I mean I can forgive that your average idiot doesn't know anything about anything but surely someone with an advanced degree in psychology should have a firm grasp on most upper level grammatical concepts but a simple mechanic like a semicolon is beyond her. On one hand I can count the number of people I know of who know the rules for a semicolon. That includes college professors.
It's not even that important. You can go from the day you're born to the day you die without needing to use a semicolon.
Is the general public just unabashedly stupid, or is it just me? What’s with people well into their teens and twenties (and god forbid beyond that) not knowing how to spell? Doesn’t anyone read anything – even signs, ads, or stupid magazines?
You know it's really hard to be mad at you right now because you're speaking my language.
I can’t imagine teaching remedial English; I’d lose all hope for future humanity.
Hi.
Lost it long before I did that, luckily.
My friend found a flash drive on campus with a girl’s ENG 101 papers, and it appeared as though a ninth grader wrote them. “What is love? Well I belive its that thing where you care for someone, just like u would do anythign for them u know.” I wish I still had them. I’m unable to write that stupid.
Oh God proofreading papers in college.
Why?
"Make sure to say something positive!" the professor said.
There is no upside to this train wreck of a paper outside of it didn't find a way to somehow kill me--
sorry, flashing back to my early English classes.
And I'm up to the very first entry, how handy.
I guess we can discuss her user profile briefly.
Is she cute?
A bit, perhaps. She did at one point in an entry I didn't bother reading fully say that she could make a living as a model.
I think that might be a little optimistic, to put it euphemistically.
Things she likes include the juego and crude humor so I think we have a match, here.
Things she dislikes are excessive negativity and classic rock so maybe we won't get along after all. How can you like comedy and yet you don't like excess negativity? True comedy spawns from all the negative emotions in life.
Here's a link to her last.fm account, which would tell me the music she's been listening to.
Looks like Rage Against the Machine and Lady Gaga.
I know way too much about this dumb cunt. I think I officially know more about her than I do about myself.
As far as body mods go, I have one tattoo and 9 piercings (7 in ears, one navel, one elsewhere).
Now I know about your genitals.
Well, ostensibly. That could be a tongue piercing or an anal piercing (those exist I swear to Christ) but let's leave it to the imagination.
Well I think I'm off. I gotta go sell these fancy gauntlets and this Savage Might IV Materia in FFXIV.
Gotta make bank.
I don't think Edie would be the kind of girl to get her genitals pierced.
Or maybe she would, let's think about this--
Well, if it let her kill better I'm sure she'd be all over it. Extra jewelry slot, why the hell not?
Psychopath.
And I can respect that, actually. She wants to master the Fist of the North Star and that's how you have to do it in the world of Final Fantasy. Through tons and tons of fancy equipment.
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