It's demanding to defeat those evil machines.

Hello crunchy children. 

Yesterday I went to the cardiologist. They did an EKG(what else is new), but this time they also did an ultrasound of my heart. It was so weird actually seeing my heart on the screen. There it was, just pumping away in its full black and white glory right before my eyes. The ultrasound technician showed me the chambers of my heart and all. It wasn't really what I expected a heart to look like, it was nothing like the pictures I've seen. 

After wiping all the ultrasound stuff off of my chest, I was set up with a little heart monitor or whatever. The monitor itself was clipped to the waist of my pants, and there were I think five wires coming from it. Each wire had an electrode with gauze at its end and each end was securely taped to my skin somewhere around my chest. Whenever I had an attack or a spell or whatever, I was supposed to press the purple button on the monitor, and then write down the time it happened, the symptoms, and what I had been doing on this chart thing. I couldn't take the little fucker off for 24 hours. So yeah, I had to sleep with this rectangular plastic tumor on my hip and wires across my torso and liberally applied tape irritating my skin. My doctor said that some people have to wear them for thirty days, only taking them off to shower. That would really, really suck. It's impossible to be comfortable wearing it, I can't even imagine wearing it for a month. 

My mom sent my teachers an email about my health. She thought they should probably know why I'm absent so much. I guess they should, but I just don't want to look like some kind of pathetic pansy who can't handle a little pain. I certainly feel pathetic. There are so many people out there who have it so, so much worse than I do. Stupidly enough, I hope my teachers don't look at me differently or strangely on monday. 

I have electrode pictures, maybe I'll post them tomorrow. Maybe not, if I'm too lazy.

peace.

Chanel Spring 2009

Chanel's spring 2009 collection is immaculate. I did like their previous tweed faze, but this...this is the Chanel I love to see. It's all black and white(at least in the show), and everything has these beautiful clean, geometric lines, consistent with the perfectly tailored cuts that Chanel pulls off so well. There are a couple pieces that I'm a little iffy about, but only two or three that have this shinier black almost plastic looking material featured in the outfits. The collection was riddled with cropped jackets, round collars, defined shoulders, simply tiered layers, round mod buttons, tulle and beaded subtle little flowers and frills, lace contrasted with more modern materials, and utter fabulousness. The clothing was drenched in Chanel's classic class, but updated and innovated in ways that I have never seen Lagerfeld work before. Overall, it was clean, fresh, light; everything spring should be.

Today sucked, but I'm home now, so it's whatever.

I'm really excited to get my Delia's order. Ah, the joys of online shopping. New clothing is so exciting...even just one new article of clothing can create like, a gazillion(just an approximation) new outfits. If only I wasn't so awful at sewing my own stuff. Oh well. I'm especially excited about getting this dress and these shoes.

In other news, I've had terrible writer's block ever since we started fiction in WtL. I don't know how I'm going to crank out a couple pages by monday...I don't even have an idea to work off of yet. On the overall creative front, however, I do have a photography project planned, and I'll probably start working on it this weekend. I don't really know how to explain it, and if I try, it will just sound stupid, so I won't...but I still can't wait to do it. :)

See you kids on the flip side.

<3

Shangri-la

All I want to do right now

is go to Shangri-la

in Yanceyville

and lie on my back in the grass between the white quartz buildings

in the darkness of early nighttime

and feel the rain on my face.

Then the pouring rain

will turn the ground to soft mud

and I will sink into it

inside the earth,

forever a part of a miniature world

that means peace

and simplicity

in a world of highways.

The stone that has sat at the foot of the sign

in the front of the little village

for over thirty years

says "Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man."

That stone

will be my tombstone

because when I am dead

I want to live in a house

by the side of the road

and be a friend to man.

I don't know, that's just how I'm feeling right now.

Neurotic Bugs

I did not sleep at all last night.

I am somewhat doubtful that I will be able to tonight.

The bugs won't stop crawling.

At least it gives me something to write my awful poetry about.

If you can even call it that.

I just want some Vallium or something.

Anything to stop my current period of neurotic mania.

I just want to be able to lie down and sleep without these little hallucination bugs crawling all over me.

In other news, we're doing fiction in Writing through Lit, and it is brutally kicking my ass. I seriously sound like a middle schooler when I write short stories. I am NOT looking forward to having to share with the class. 

On a lighter note, here's Adam in a dress (September 2004).

Kinky Boots

I'm watching the movie Kinky Boots.

Obviously, that made me think of drag queens.

Then thinking about drag queens made me think of a fucking awesome job...

Professionally dragging people out.

Oh my God, that would be SO fucking fun.

I <3>

If I were a guy, I would probably be one...I'm not so huge on female drag, but drag queens, I love.

Ru Paul is FIERCE.

Always There

He is always there, in the back of my mind and my heart, on the soles of my feet, the back of my neck, my ribcage, my hipbone.

I have been doing better lately, I have not been thinking about him nearly as much. I still think about him every day, but it isn't every half hour.

I had the dream again last night. I was so hoping I would not have it this month, but I guess it was inevitable, especially with Valentine's Day just around the bend. I cannot remember how long it has been since I have gone a month without having the dream. Jesus, could it be a year now? I guess so...damn. Wow.

I hate it when we talk about repressed/suppressed memories in psychology. I hate how the people in the textbook or on the videos, or even Mr. Magrinat, say that memory repression hardly ever exists, and it's kind of a myth, a psychological misconception born from Freud. They haven't experienced it. They don't know what it's like to suddenly one day remember the death of the person you loved, to remember that that person even existed, after years of repression. So fuck you, people who say that stuff. It's not really your fault, but it still hurts.

I hate when people make fun of suicide and SI. I hate that sometimes I do, too. Maybe I am just trying to play it all off. I don't know. All I know is that they are all afraid. So, so afraid. That's why they joke. They're afraid, but they don't even realize it. God, if they had seen what I saw, they would realize their fear. His gun, his blood, his pills, the note he left behind for me...but I would never wish that upon anybody. I would never wish for anybody to see that every day in their mind, to dream about that blood every fucking month.

No, that's not true.

I would wish it upon his parents, in a heartbeat.

Where do you draw the line between suicide and murder?

Jesus Christos, that was a fucking annoyingly angsty post. If anybody for some strange reason read any of this, sorry to waste your time. I have not left my house in days due to sickness, and I'm getting a little stir-crazy. >_<

Hasta la vista, bitches.

:)