This is All I've Got Right Now, Please Accept My Apologies.

A Crack in the Table

Lancelot stabs Guinevere.

She falls.

He flees.



Monstrumologist

- The heart oozes
Red stains on gloves
Once sterile

Bits of muscle and fat
Cling to his apron -

All that is left of the girl
Reduced to so much offal

A science experiment

A project

Nothing more
Nothing less
Nothing at all

- There is no pleasure
In the cut of his scalpel
There is only curiosity
At what lays beneath the pallid complexion -

He is sorry
For her loss

He is sorry

He is

Sorry

No matter the destructon he brings her
He has his Angel
To love instead

An Angel like no other
With gaping maw and dragging claws

An insatiable appetite
For misery and despair
He cannot deny that Angel
So broken
He looks well in comparison

- Another slice

Another rivulet of red

The end of a life -

Apartment Drama

Communication is something we all need in order to function in the adult world, right? I mean, I'm pretty sure that you can't just go blithely along, not communicating, and still manage to do well.

You see, the girl I was going to be living with in Newport News, has sort of completely fucked me over.

When we were getting the application filled out to the get the apartment (which we would be sharing with one other girl), I mentioned that I would like the master bedroom. Chelsea, whom I know and am slightly friends with, had originally been the one to get it. However, when she added this other girl and made it so that we would be getting a three-bedroom apartment, my mother and I decided that I should try to get it.

After all, I do not know this other girl. Sharing a bathroom with her would be weird at the least. If things got tense in the apartment, I'd have no way of avoiding her. Furthermore, I am not the easiest person to get along with. While I can be amiable and such even when I don't want to be, once I hit the breaking point, things get scary. Fast.

So I said all of this to Chelsea and Bethany (who is Chelsea's friend and the third for the apartment), and Chelsea agreed that I could have the master bedroom. I was rather surprised that she didn't want to talk about it first, but hey, I got what I wanted and I wasn't going to question it.

Well, this was about a week ago, and now apparently she wants the master bedroom back. Did she say this to me, however? Nope. She went to Krystal, and got Krystal to talk to me about it.

That was mistake number one. I will absolutely refuse to agree to anything like this without talking face to face, and sending someone else to relay the message is a great way to make me likely to refuse no matter what.

Mistake number two: she used the phrase "I deserve it more than she does". Whether or not this is true, that statement automatically pisses me off.

Now, her reasons for saying that ARE somewhat valid. Everything WOULD be in her name. She DID find the apartment complex and do all the work in getting us applications and meetings and such.

However.

I have no qualms with the first argument. It's in her name, and that's a valid reason that she should get the bigger bedroom. It's the second one that I have a problem with.

See, when I contacted her to see if she had any space for me in her current living arrangements or saw a change in them that could include me, she'd already FOUND Hidenwood and wanted to check it out. Both my parents and I approved of the complex, so I didn't see a reason to go looking for others. Chelsea took it upon herself to look at the complex where her boyfriend lives, and decided that there would be better.

Neither my parents nor I approved of this place. It was sketch. It wasn't as nice. True, it was cheaper. But it was a dangerous place to live. When I said that there was no way I would live there, she got all sorts of melodramatic and said that my parents were standing in the way of her having somewhere to live, and that if I wouldn't live there then I guess we wouldn't be able to be room mates.

That irritated me, but I also understood. She wanted the most cost-effective option, and I'm sure her boyfriend living in the complex had a large hand in her decision. So I shrugged it off and started looking for rooms for rent or something. My mother helped and tried to find cheap apartments in less sketchy parts of town, and found a few. I mentioned these to Chelsea, but she wasn't interested.

Well, not too much longer after that, she messages me back saying that she got vetoed over the sketch complex, and wanted to get a three-bedroom apartment with this other girl she had been trying to move in with. While I wasn't too sure about this other girl, having never met her before, I was willing to take her word on it and go ahead.

So now we're back to the present.

Mistake number three: she said "Well if she doesn't agree then Bethany and I will get a two-bedroom apartment without her. She needs us more than we need her."

Nah, bitch.

I DON'T need her. I can still get into a dorm, and I'm (fairly) certain my parents would help finance it. I can go back to searching for someone who needs an apartment mate, or has a room for rent. There is still a myriad of options out there for me, and if she wants to go down to a two-bedroom apartment and pay $100 more in rent all because she might not get the master bedroom, I don't care.

So yeah. This has been SUCH FUN. *sarcasm hand*

Stay tuned to find out if I manage to get anything figured out for living in Newport News.

Let's Not Be Assholes, Okay?

So let's get one thing clear.

It is never, EVER okay to joke about rape.

Rape is a serious topic, one that deserves serious discussion and serious reflection.

Making a joke about someone being raped is disgusting. Laughing at it is just as horrid.

I absolutely refuse to let people make those sorts of jokes around me. And by around me I mean: in person, on the phone, on the computer. Hell, if I see it on Facebook, I will say something to the person who posted it.

This is one of those things where I WILL judge someone for finding that sort of thing funny. Usually, I'm pretty understanding about what makes people laugh. But this is not one of those times.

You can say you hate rape, and you hate people who rape, and maybe you do. But if you still laugh or tell rape jokes, you need to sit down and analyse why in the world you would think that's funny. If it is as hateful and distasteful to you as you say it is, then you should not find rape jokes amusing on any level.

There is no joke about rape that is amusing. I've yet to meet a girl who finds them funny, it's always been men. So I ask you, men: would you find jokes about cutting off your penis funny?

No?

Well then why in the fucking world would you think jokes about violating someone in JUST AS PERSONAL AND AWFUL A WAY is funny?

This is where the term "rape culture" comes to play.

In discussing this with others today, I've been told that I "just didn't get the joke" and that I'm being judgemental. And they're right on both counts. I AM not getting the joke, because there isn't one to get. I AM being judgemental, because what does it say about your character that you can laugh at the thought of someone (even an ethereal "joke" person who doesn't exist) getting raped?

If I pointed out the atrocity that is finding rape funny, and you said, "You know what, you're right. That sort of shit isn't funny" then I'd be okay with you. But continuing to defend the notion that it isn't a terrible thing, that your humour isn't horrific, that upsets me.

Because there's a difference between dark humour and a twisted sense of humour, and finding rape or violence funny.

And you know what? If you're friends with me and you find rape jokes funny, don't tell them around me. Don't post them to where I can see them on your Facebook, if you know that I have a high chance of seeing the things you post. Don't get upset if you slip, and I point out that I have a problem with it and ask why you DON'T.

Because honestly, do you have a reason why you don't? Can you actually justify finding such a horrific act funny?

Seriously. If you want to remain friends with me, don't begin with that sort of shit, and don't continue it. Don't try to defend it.

Chuck Wendig, an amazing writer, touches on this subject as well. He links to other articles that really hit home. I'd suggest checking them out, when you get a chance.

I Don't Even Know What to Put Here, I'm so Upset

Honestly, it's like people go out of their ways to disgust me.

Today at work, there was a giant moth just outside the door. As I'm an animal person, I thought it was super cool. When I showed it to the other girls, they all thought it was gross. One even demanded we kill it. I, of course, refused. In an effort to keep one of them from acting on such violent tendencies, I moved it into a bush where it would be a bit safer.

All of this prompted a few of the girls to talk about just how much they hate insects and spiders. A few of them talked about how they pull the lighting ends off fireflies and stick them on their fingers, or make bracelets, and other horrific stuff. They've done it since childhood, and still have a great time. One girl even said that she likes to hit fireflies with a baseball bat when they light up so that she can watch them go flying and crash to the ground.

And I was the only one completely horrified and upset. I actually had to fight back tears.

I mean, I get it. I'm weird. I like bugs and spiders and all that stuff. Other people don't, and that's fine by me. You don't have to LIKE them. You just can't TORTURE them, or KILL them just for sport, or because they're "icky".

That's one of the quickest ways to set me off. An animal is an animal. It doesn't have to be cute or cuddly to be worth treating well. If it's alive, it deserves the same amount of respect as anything else. A bug is just as important to the ecosystem as a tiger, but people think bugs are gross and ugly, so it doesn't matter if we kill it.

Ugh. Seriously. This whole thing put me in an awful mood for the rest of the day. I just keep thinking, "Well, maybe we should rip THEIR legs off and see what they think about that". Which would not be good. It could land me in jail.

One person at work understood where I was coming from. Sam, the kitchen manager, agrees that all creatures are precious. Like me, he'll pick up the spiders and moths and whatever other creatures get inside and send them back outside.

That's another thing. One of the girls who talked about ripping the abdomens off fireflies was kind of worried that I hated her. She kept saying that she was a good person, a nice person, she just didn't like bugs. But when we saw that moth, she was one of the ones saying to kill it. And later, she was like "I was just saying that because I knew you were an animal person, I was just playing around."

Like, what? You think you're a nice person, but go around TRYING to upset people? And then you're confused and hurt when they don't take to that well and tell you as much?

I don't know. Things like this make me seriously wish that most people would just disappear.

People wonder how others can be so cruel to other people - rape, murder, etc. I don't wonder at all. If we can treat other creatures so awfully, why wouldn't we treat each other that way? As long as you dehumanize your victim (when it comes to people), you're just pulling the lights off fireflies.

A Present for My Lovely Readers

I have found possibly THE BEST video on YouTube. I've already showed to... everyone I've talked to in the past two days. NOW IT'S YOUR TURN.

You can thank me later. First watch this beauty:

You're welcome.

If that was not enough hilarity for you, go to the website. It is even better than the video, and that is saying something.

And I'm Dreaming Weird Shit Again

AND Daniel's back in them. Or at least the one I had last night.

So, in this one, I was at this guy's house for some exclusive dinner party. Well, apparently the whole thing was a ruse to try to rape, murder, and marry me (though not in that order). I, of course, did not approve, and managed to escape. Don't ask me how, I don't remember.

Daniel had been invited too (I'm not sure why, but I think the evil guy wanted to rub it in his face if he had managed to succeed), and he and I ended up going to counselling together. It didn't really end up being about what happened in the crazy dude's house, though. It was more about us and our relationship and all that.

In the dream, I was trying to explain to the therapist that while I have nothing AGAINST Daniel and in fact wanted to be friends with him, I didn't have any other sort of emotional connection to him. Apparently this made the fact that he and I were holding hands and being all sorts of couple-y even during the counselling sessions a little weird.

Which I suppose makes sense. If there's no emotional connection, why WOULD I want to do any of that? I think the answer is that he and I were so comfortable with each other - the physical connection just felt natural, and NOT being that way feels UN-natural. At least, that's how I feel. No word on how dream Daniel thinks about the topic.

That's about where the dream ended, except for Daniel declaring that he would always have feelings for me and why can't people just accept that? Both the therapist and I agreed that while that may be the case, that doesn't mean that those feelings should be acted on. Not that my opinion mattered much, because I was still sitting there holding his hand.

Anyway, yeah. A little weird. Which isn't surprising, because it's me. Plus I was on meds last night because I had this monster migraine. The meds didn't really help with the migraine, but they DID put me to sleep, which has made it so that today, at least, it's not excruciating.

UPDATE:

I also had a weird golden glow whilst at the counselling session. If that means anything.

Send Me Money, Please

Good God, I would kill to run in Tough Mudder, or Iron Warrior Dash, or any other intense obstacle course race.

I bring this up, because a quasi-friend at the bowling alley (he's a league bowler, as is his son, so I see him about twice a week) is participating in Tough Mudder this June. His team is down a runner; his father-in-law can no longer run, so they have an open slot. TECHNICALLY the Tough Mudder organization does not transfer registration. Sipos (that's his last name) is going to try his utmost to convince them to make an exception.

If he can't, he has this plan to take me there anyway, and hope that they don't check IDs (which they will. They always do). It won't work at all, but it's nice of him to be so determined.

Now, I'm sure a lot of you think I'm absolutely bonkers for wanting to do an obstacle course race where electrocution is a main event and you have to sign a death waiver. My parents certainly think I am. Although my mother usually just shakes her head and blames it all on inheriting adrenaline-junkie genes from my biological father.

I have always, ALWAYS, loved obstacle courses. As a kid, I would use the playground as one and come up with ways to race around and through it. I'd make the other children participate, because what fun is a race if you don't have anyone running in it? I don't recall ever losing, probably because obstacles give me more energy instead of sucking it away, which is not something most people experience.

When I was younger, I liked to say that I would join the military just so I could run obstacle courses. It's still an intriguing idea, but the fact that that's not all you do sort of dissuades me from that course of action.

Warrior Dash has just made me more and more excited to do these things. The main problem is that they're not cheap; longer races are upwards of $100, and it's rare to find any that are less than $50.

I JUST REALLY WANT TO DO THESE, GUYS. THIS IS WHY I NEED A SUGARDADDY. HE COULD PAY FOR ALL OF THEM.