Thank you, Livejournal

First blog up is a winner today, I can feel it. I didn't even have to read through this garbage.
I can gamble like this because if it sucks I'll just trash the entry and start over.
So already this person's user name is Zoloft Girl.
I GOT A GOOD FEELING.
Douchey response to the Writer's Block?
Check (thank you for helping me out, Livejournal)
Massive blocks of self indulgent text no one gives a shit where she speaks like her words have the weight of a thousand emperors?
WE'RE IN FLAVOR COUNTRY, GENTLEMEN.

If forced to give up one, which would you choose: love, friendship, or family?

Today's writer's block. This is a stupid question.
Well let's logic this one out.
On second thought this is stupid so let's just skip it all together.

If you're lucky, and you have the right circumstances surrounding you when they come into your life, they're all the same thing. So none. To give up one is to give up all. I'm not giving this up. It's one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

Well Machiavelli teaches if you have a choice between love and fear you should always pick fear, and a prince doesn't have friends-- only vassals and enemies (sometimes in the same person) so I guess the only logical answer in dystopia Machiavelli land is to keep family. Ditch friendship.

I start sentences with the word "I."

I do this a lot. Too much, sometimes.

I tend to focus on myself more than others. I fear this makes me selfish, a bitch, uncaring, cruel.

A blogger who thinks of herself too often?
Stop the presses immediately.

True, when the immediate people in my life tell me they're about to do something, I think about how it'll affect me. When they tell me how they're feeling, I think of something I may have done to cause it, and what, if anything, I can do to heighten it, making it better whether they're feeling good or bad.

Already this is getting abstract and I'm sure I don't care.

I do this because I'm trying to figure myself out. Not who I am, because I know who I am. Why I react the way I react, why I prefer blue over green, why I use the words I use, why I speak so quirkily, why I don't have certain things, why certain people are or are not beneficial in my life, why I think what I think, why I feel the way I feel, the process I go through when thinking or feeling, why I see the colours I see when I hear a violin, the exact ways in which my brain malfunctions, the relationship between my mind and body, why I like savoury things, and so on and so fourth. This is also why I relentlessly take any in-depth personality quizzes I can find. I want to know what house I'd be in at Hogwarts, I want to know my MBTI type, I want to know what character I'm the most like, I want to know which crest I have, I want to know the colour of my personality, I want to know who I write like, and I want to know why. I know my natal chart by heart.

HOLY SHIT.
Also are you surprised she's a fan of Harry Potter (she references Hogwarts quiz which is a Harry Potter thing)? I'm not.
Let's make some other predictions while we're here: she likes fanfiction, she wants to be a writer or an actress or maybe an artist and she's really a special misunderstood snowflake.
Jesus Christ this entry goes on for like 15 paragraphs. I'm skipping it.

So, it's 2012. It's scary to begin a new year, for once. Last year was easily the best year of my life. For the first time in a very long time, I was happy for the bulk of it.

Many parts of it were painful. Intensely so. That's the only way anyone can learn, though. By ripping open old wounds that are stitched closed, but haven't even begun to heal.

That's really douchey.
Have you ever read anything that douchey in recent memory?
I can't think of the last time the cold rime of a douche shiver crawled up my spine like this.
Anyway I get the feeling we're in this for the long haul and I doubt seriously we're going to come to any sort of post where she talks about what she likes or what's happening in her life-- it's all going to be what she's feeling.
Feelings are gay, man.

A few days ago, I was talking to Charles about talking about my feelings and insecurities and whatnot. I told him that "I'm trying to be this brave and strong girl," and said something along the lines of not being able to anymore. He looked me in the eye and told me that he's seen me be this strong and brave girl countless times, and that he knows I can do it again.

THE LOT MUST BE SACRIFICED ON THE ALTAR OF COURAGE no wait that's Warhammer.

Which I think is true, even though I don't always believe it. I'm a survivor, I'm a fighter. I endure. I don't give up. I find a way.

Somehow the phrase "I endure" is a lot more convincing when a Dreadnought says it.
I don't want to hear about how you're a survivor or a fighter unless you've been born in war-torn Africa or are a rape or cancer survivor or something. What fight did you win, exactly?

I fell in love, for the first time, at the beginning of the year. I'm in love, and so is he. We've had a real connection from day one, which neither of us had before with anyone in a romantic sense.

Wow, what a dumbass.
Friend, have I not delivered you to wisdom?
And this is what you do with it?
You know they ridiculed Jesus Christ in his time, too.

Could it have really been this easy? My road was filled to the brim with intense loneliness, with obsessive self-reliance, isolation, desolation, and disappointment.

Sounds like the path of the Space Marine.
Only replace "disappointment" with HONOR AND VALOR and there you go.
And I guess replace "intense loneliness" with ZEAL AND FURY.
So, really, only the middle part is close.

I have "daddy issues." We've all heard the term, nearly always used in a derogatory manner, and nearly everyone (especially girls and women) have them to some extent. Mine, in particular, are due to the very simple fact that I've never in my life actually had a Dad.

K.
Seriously, bro, why are you dating this bitch? Have you seen her blog?
If were dating this banshee I'd take one look at this blog, say "nope" and promptly burn anything I own capable of serving as a medium to communicate with her. Phone? Gone. Cellphone? IN PIECES. My computer? A HOLY CONFLAGRATION.

No Dad, no Daddy, no Father, even. Sure, he's been around. Sporadically all my life, only when he wanted to be, and never when I needed him. When around, rare as the time was, he'd make promises. Fantastic promises. None of which he's ever kept. I wanted him to. I wanted him to so badly, once upon a time.

Come on, man. Seriously, you didn't Google this slut's name just to see? What, are you waiting for this surprise later?

Crushed hopes turned to confusion, confusion led to self-loathing, self-loathing led to fury, fury led to resentment, resentment led to hatred, and hatred led to realization. Realization then led to indifference.

Couldn't confusion lead to crushed hopes which then led to self-loathing?
Or couldn't fury lead to self-loathing and then confusion, which then crushed your hopes?
You can't really arrange a group of interchangeable emotions in a linear pattern like that.
Oh I guess you're just retelling what happened.

It took a long time. A lot of wondering and thinking. A hell of a lot of dissection. Which led to the conclusion that he's not willing to change, the past can't be undone, and that nothing whatsoever can be accomplished dwelling and rotting in anger and pain. I crawled out of the sludge and started washing myself off.

You, thinking about yourself?
Hang on let me call the Vatican--

I'm never going to be clean of every speck of grime. I'm not angry anymore. But I am very cruel towards him sometimes. I wish nothing but pain upon him. He's brought it on himself. Suffer the consequences. He deserves infinitely more than he's gotten, and a tenfold beyond infinite agony.

You can't really multiply something that isn't a number.

I'm bitter, now, at times. Not angry. Just bitter. Viciously bitter wouldn't be an understatement.

K. Am I supposed to be impressed?

The bitterness doesn't eat at me. None of my feelings towards him have, really. They didn't hurt me, but they didn't help me, either. When in doubt, go for rising above. I would have sunk eventually. It was just a matter of time. Before it got that far, I made my choice.

Hooo man.
So how about that TERA game, huh?
That shit is going to be the motherfucking bomb-diggity, buddy!

I don't feel much of anything towards him. The bitterness, yes, but it's not a constant feeling. It passes quickly. Only a matter of time before it's gone completely.

I'm better now. I rarely see him, and even then, it's only quickly enough to paste on a feigned smile and get cash from him.

So much for "rising above it", huh?
I mean goddamn.

So. All of a sudden, out of absolutely nowhere, I have this nagging urge to write fanfic.

Yes, called it.

As many of you know, I like to write. What you may not know, unless you feel the same way, in which case, we must invent a secret handshake and spread it far and wide in the writing community, is that I am a writer. I can explain this, and will, if you'd be so kind as to read along. Even if not, fuck you, Imma tell my story, because someone out there will want to read it. Fuck tha' police, in short.

Fuck the police?
No that's my line to you.
Also I swear I didn't read ahead, honest.
Man do I know bints or what?

You have to understand that I didn't really choose this. It chose me.

Talk about your muse.
Come on, you know you want to.
Well I did a quick search through about 40 text walls and didn't come across the word "muse" one single time so I guess good job on that.
Man this is really boring.
I'm going to go do something else with my life.

Zzzz

Prepare for a lesson in self importance.
Can you believe I've been at this for over 500 entries?
Me neither, actually.

Who is your look-alike?

Today's writer's block.
The number of people who said "my look-alike is me" was frankly startling. I want someone to explain that logic to me, in fact. You can't look like yourself because you are yourself. Christ, you people are thick.

My look-a-like is my daughter. She is my "mini-me". She acts like me, too. Which is fair warning to everyone. Yes, there are two of me. BEWARE!!!

And there's a picture of you and your daughter. Twin hambeasts.

It's said that you learn something new every day. What did you learn today?

Nothing.
I learned absolutely fuck all today.

Today I learned the side effects of going two days without a mood-altering drug. I have always hated having weaknesses and most of all, having to admit that I do. But, for the sake of my fellow humans, I take full responsibility for the fact that I have Bipolar Disorder and I stay medicated.

Great. Can we go five entries without someone being on wacky pills?
I would wager we cannot because if it hasn't happened in 3 years I don't think it's going to happen.

The boyfriend is what most normies would call an "intellectual". Being that intelligent has it's privileges (like knowing how to spell "privilege" without spell check).

But doesn't extend as far as knowing the difference between 'its' and 'it's'. I guess that makes me some sort of genius.

But I have learned recently that he is so wrapped up in knowledge and facts that he misses out on life and moments. Which makes me really question the nature of our relationship.

And you're pilled up because you can't keep your emotions in check. Who are you to judge what counts as a fulfilling life, really?

Scenario: It's 8 p.m. and it's the baby's bed time. All three children are dancing in the living room when they are supposed to be quiet to encourage the baby to get ready for bed.

Boyfriend's reaction: "Damnit! They know it's bedtime. They do this every night. Pisses me the fuck off"

He's just angry he waited too long or is too much of a whipped faggot to find a woman that isn't a mess with 5 broods of failure.
And is apparently not smart enough to become a sage like myself.

My reaction: "Awe. They are teaching their little brother the Funky Chicken. That is so FREAKIN' CUTE!!!"

Here's where the problem is....both reactions are reasonable. Just polar opposite. I know that my children should follow rules. I know what bed time is and how important it is. But how many times will my baby learn the Funky Chicken for the first time?

I'm 24 and I don't even know what the funky chicken is. I think this is a moment you can safely pass.

So it's been a whole year since I caught a case of the cancer. So much has happened since then that I sometimes, almost, maybe forget that it even happened. Or rather, I try to forget it. I had no one. I had no support. Seemed like nobody cared. Now, with a checkup right around the corner, with almost a morbid, sick sense of self, I hope that I have cancer again.

Errr--
Are you sure you had cancer?

Because I know people who have and I'm pretty sure they don't wish they had it again.
Somewhat of a do-over, if you will. This time, I have an amazing support system. People who love and adore me.

So--
Successfully fighting off cancer wasn't enough of a victory?
Okay, man. Whatever.

This time, I wouldn't even tell my family what was going on. I need to shake these emotions. NO CANCER!!! And these people that I thought I could depend on, they are a cancer in my life....slowly draining me...mercilessly taking my happiness and bliss.

What the actual fuck are you talking about?
You just said you had an amazing support system so you hope you can get cancer so you can see how you can impose on your poor family (I guess) and you're going to exercise the dumbest wish I've ever heard in my entire life by promptly not telling the people you were just raving about.

I will have no more of it. I am spreading the Chemo. Take that, selfish bastards.

On the flip side...My people are amazing. I am in such a happy place right now. A few good reasons to fight like mad.

Was this written by taking sentences from random sources and arranging them so they appear like they were written together? This is the entire post unedited. I have left no part out.
Maybe you should be on pills, woman.

I live by three easy rules...1) Love everyone. 2) Tell people you love them. 3) Accept their love in return. Pretty simple stuff. Sometimes hard to remember.

Those are pretty douchey rules.
I think the reason those rules are hard to remember is because they suck.

My name is Elizabeth (Ringueberg, Lowery) Payne. I was raised by my parents. We lived in an upper-middle class house. I went to a private magnet school for gifted children. I guess you could say I am smart.

I wouldn't say that about you but I guess the words could be spoken by me, sure.

Most people I know now would just tell you that I am a smart ass. Mostly, I am. But, I am intelligent.

How are you intelligent, exactly?
I honestly have yet to see any real proof of this outside of you're a little articulate.
I guess. I mean you did have an entire post I didn't understand but your grammar is at least passable.

Though, I have found, that many people don't appreciate that part of me, and more times than not it can offend. I was never proud of my intelligence. I just wanted to be like everyone else. On purpose, I failed the 7th grade so I would be put in a regular junior high school.

SEE? SMART.

Shortly after graduation I went to Texas to visit my sister. A week later I was married.

I was 18, married to a man I didn't knw, and the full time stepmother of two children. I was scared out of my mind. All I knew was that I wanted to go home. Within a couple of months I got pregnant. She's eleven now.

"Let me present my case for why I am indeed intelligent."

She saved my life. I stopped the drinking and the drugs. I guess I am stronger than most of the other people in my family when it comes to overcoming addiction.

I glossed over it but the drug she was "addicted" to was pot.
And I made it to the start of her blog.
Which is really handy because I can't take this shit anymore.
Bye fags.

NOW YOU'LL SEE WHAT A SITH IS CAPABLE OF

Ready for this fucking shit?
No, you're not ready. Who could be prepared for this lesson in boredom?

What is your answering machine away message? If you don't have one, you can make it up!

Even the writer's block is uninspired today. Is everyone fucking downed out today or something?
What have I told you, Livejournal? This is a team effort ever since you got rid of the sections. I need you to ask leading questions so I can find the goods easier.

"Hi, you've reached [me] and [my boyfriend]. Please leave a message." I really wish it didn't launch into the Verizon automated voice saying a long additional message, because otherwise I would *totally* end it with, "Please leave a message after the beep," followed by a pause lasting a few seconds and then me cheerfully yelling, "beeeep!" :-D

If I heard an answering machine message like that I would do the following things in the following order:
1. Hang up
2. Cancel my phone
3. Call the police
4. Move to China
5. Learn Kung Fu
Why do you have to bore through my head with your obnoxiousness just because I had the audacity to call you? I'll admit if I'm calling you I've clearly made a hideous, irreparable mistake in my life but cut me some fucking slack. Clearly life has punished me enough.

Drastic changes are happening in my life. For the most part, they are wonderful positive changes.

Totally failed trying to get in shape in July, so I guess I should try again this month. Bellydancing was enjoyable, but b/c I didn't practice at home, nothing was really accomplished.

Belly dancing was a thing invented so brown girls could look even hotter but has been kind of absorbed (literally, in the fat rolls) of fat pigs everywhere.

Several concerts are on the horizon and I need to buy tickets for them.

I think today, after I make a phone call, I will clean my house the best I can. Ooh, I might even go out and get some more cleaning supplies.

I gotta plan shit out and work with it.

Praise be to Freyja and all her magnificent glory.

>Praying to Freya
>claimer of those slain in battle
I cannot think of a less likely thing you could be praying to.
It's like praying to Nyx or Chaos from Greek mythology. It's just not something an informed person in these mythological cycles would do.
Which leads me to believe you're saying it for the edgy, hipster factor. You're sooo cooooool.

If you could have a power that helps you with day-to-day living, like the ability to always get a seat on the bus, what would choose, and why?

The power to always get my way.

One that comes to mind is the power to get people to move the fuck out of the way when I need to get by.

Covered in my power.
My power, in fact, would make you all powerful.

On spaceflights, astronauts are awakened by songs of their choosing. What song would you pick?

They do?
Wait a minute, so does everyone. That's an option on your iPod.
My problem with the iPod alarm is it's so quiet. It wants to get you up but doesn't want to be rude about it.
JESUS CHRIST, iPOD. I'M BASICALLY DEAD WHEN I SLEEP I NEED YOU TO HELP ME OUT.
Oh, also, to answer the question: Hells Bells.

"In The Shadow of Our Pale Companion" by Agalloch. The song is gorgeous and awesome and holy crap if I keep going on about it I'll have to use a thesaurus, but also it's almost 15 minutes long, and sometimes I need that much time to wake up.

Sounds fucking terrible.
If the word "gorgeous" is used to describe a song it's shit.

By the way, I saw them a month ago and they were absolutely breathtaking.

Not as legit as Hells Bells, though.
I get headaches easily so I can't listen to music too loud and Hells Bells is about the only song where it's worth the risk.
Here's a linguistic quiz I can give myself for no gain. Let me give you the right answers.

-

What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?


Being a fucking douchebag begging for the release of death.

-What is the bug that when you touch it, curls into a ball?

Armor bug or a rolly polly.

-
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?


Soda.

-What do you call gym shoes?

Cunt shoes.

-
What do you say to address a group of people?


Hey assholes.

-What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?

Daddy FUCKIN' Long Legs.

-What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?


The best answer is the British answer in this case: pissing down rain.
There you go. I've enhanced your language skills.
You're welcome.

today I...

ate breakfast (an english muffin and orange juice)
took my pills
watched a Simpsons episode i haven't seen in a while
got provisionally accepted into the linguistics program (which means a mailbox will be in order and i'm getting closer to graduation)

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW.
Am I really reading about the breakfast you had?
Seriously?

The World Series begins today, meaning balls will be hit, bases run, and homeruns scored. Remember the first time you got to first base? What was it like?

Get it it's like a sexual thing.
I guess.
Whoever decided getting rid of the Livejournal sections was a good idea should be beaten.

i was never a good runner, and certainly not a good sprinter. the first time i played softball outdoors was in 1995, in 5th grade. i don't remember it or care about it. 9 times out of 10 i got within 5 feet of the base when the first baseman got me out.

Pretty sure it wasn't literal.
Whatever.
Anyway I'm going now. I have heretics/monsters/traitors/cultists/recidivists/something to kill in some video game somewhere I'm sure.