People Crazier Than I

There seems to be a lot of craziness going around. I myself have never been diagnosed with anything, and actually, sometimes I think that people are diagnosed with imaginary illnesses...ie, they don't have anything really wrong with them, but the fact that someone gives it a label makes them feel better. I'm not knocking anyone with real illnesses that affect their daily lives. I say this because some people just don't try hard in life to really understand themselves and they sit around and act foolish. It's insulting, at least to me, that people will go down the list of any mental illness, say that they have it, just for the pity and attention that they receive. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm not. I don't know, and even though I can find out, it still doesn't matter that much to me. It won't explain away the truly strange and psychic events that I've encountered. Logically, I could be delusional, but illogically, I'm not. Life is a paradox and until you realize it, then you have no idea what to do in life. But despite my delusions, I don't care if you think I'm crazy and I really don't care if you feel sorry for me or not. That's just how I am...everyone's got problems, we're human, cry me a river. And then I meet people who really need a clue. I hate people so full of themselves it's annoying. Yeah, I'm guilty of acting that way -- hell, I have a weblog -- but I try not to actually believe it. And in a way, that's what people seem to believe. People who start clubs with requirements that you have to be dealing with your mental illness. People who always talk about it. People who come very close to using it as an excuse for the choices they make. Granted, you may not be in a healthy mindset, but not all of it is going to be your disease that makes you act that way. Insecurity is not a disease. And if you think I'm being insensitive, I am. I was hyperinsecure once. I know what it's like. It's not a disease, it's the way you're trained to think. It can be untrained and unlearned. It takes a lot of hard work to untrain yourself but it's doable. Insecurity makes a person so incrediably selfish that it just rankles my psychic nerve. And then they act like they're helpless to it. That annoys me further. Oh, well, I guess I have to take it in stride. Breathe in, breathe out, remember anger management...

Life in the Slow and Stupid Lane

*SLAP!* The paper wasn't due until Monday. My fault for missing class. Duh.

*SLAP!* Could've talked to John but didn't. I was scared. I'm a total chicken.

*SLAP!* Why didn't I turn around and yell at the person who grabbed my butt? (He knows who he is.) Um, that's just not acceptable anymore.

*SLAP!* I asked the cosmos for an answer and I got the answer but then I COMPLETELY forgot I asked the question. Duh.

*SLAP!* I'm tired of everything. I think I'll go somewhere and have a nervous breakdown in front of thousands of total strangers. Argh.

*SLAP!* I'm writing a blog about nothing, like anyone can do that, and here I am complaining just like everybody else. One day someone's gonna teach us all a lesson.

No Fun

Beware of what you wish for. You just might get it. Sadly, that always happens to me. And I never can seem to learn so I'm always careless about what I wish for. I always am slapping my forehead with the palm of my hand going, "Dammit! I knew there something..." And I wish for things that I damn well know I shouldn't have. In fact, I wish for things that I think are impossible, the things that I know are never going to happen, the things that I want but know I will never have. And what happens? I get my wish. "Lucky you," you may say. You may even be wondering why on earth I'd complain. I complain because along with getting my wish, a thousand other wishes pop up that never get fullfilled. Argh. Life is so complex. That is just my thought for the day.

Really, I'm Not Crazy
Just for the hell of it, I took a "which personality disorder do you have" test. It's pretty interesting. For the record, I really don't think I'm crazy. John and I sat around and talked about it. He doesn't seem to think that I am...of course, this is a wandering pothead we're talking about. Compared to him, I'm a perfect example of saneness. But it's been a debate: 1-crazy, 5-perfectly ok. I'm the one who thinks I'm crazy, but I guess it's just all in my head. :)

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Moderate
Schizoid:	High
Schizotypal:	High
Antisocial:	Moderate
Borderline:	Very High
Histrionic:	Low
Narcissistic:	High
Avoidant:	High
Dependent:	Moderate
Obsessive-Compulsive:	Low
-- Click Here To Take The Test --

Last Chance

Between Trailboss Tim, DJ Craig, Deputy Derrick, and DJ Craig's Country Cousin Carl, Monday night is ridiculously fun. No one should have that much fun on a Monday night, especially if it involves the bar and tear-in-your-beer classic country tunes. Ah, life's little pleasures. And just remember, folks, that there's always a Last Chance town in the West....

Time Well Spent

I hate daylight savings time, especially the spring and summer period. I'm more used to the fall and winter hours than I am to the spring and summer ones. Never forget that you have an internal time system. I only believe in the man-made creation of time for practical purposes, like getting to work on time and such. Otherwise, there really is no use for it. Sure, it organizes the day into well-structured compartments but I really have no use for structure. I prefer unstructured time, lazy and joyful. Okay, so I am antisocial. Society and its structure...HA! I laugh in its face! Of course, this is after I check my watch to make sure that I won't be late for class. When is that damn revolution going to come? I've been waiting for it...but like the capitalist I am, I will not part with either one of the stereos that I have. I think I'll just go back to sighing....

You Only THINK You're Sad...

I really wasn't going to drink on Saturday night. I did anyway, despite my lofty intentions of not going to the bar. I'm a weird sort; I like to do things alone in a crowd. I liked working at State Fair just to take my lunch break by myself and enjoy the people. I want to write and drink coffee so I go to a coffee shop where there's always a lot of people. I want to drink alone but I don't want to be by myself, so I go to the bar. Personally, I don't really care if anyone talks to me; in fact, there are times when I don't want people to talk me. This time was odd though...there's someone I want to talk to. This person never obliges my whims by appearing. But I didn't want to talk to anyone else. Usually, if I'm in a bad mood, talking to someone helps, but that night was a night of its own...either I talked to the person I wanted to talk to or I wasn't going to talk at all. After my second beer, I decided to quit writing more poetry and go over to The Palace of Rock. It was rockin' pretty good over there. And once again the Bar Mouse, the Drunken Midget, decided to clean up the place and kick everybody out. I never thought, in my wildest dreams, that I'd ever have the occasion to say, "Hey, go ahead and fight, but do it outside. They're closing so take it outside if you're gonna fight." I didn't even care if they were actually going to fight. I dislike the amateurs. They're the ones who drink so darn much they throw up all over the bathroom, spill lots of beer on the floor, get so drunk that they barely have any recollection of who they are. Granted, I've occasionally had way too much to drink, but at least I have the sense to keep my mouth shut...and aim for the really big hole filled with water. I've fallen down once in the bar. But so has one of the other professionals. It happens sometimes, especially if you've been sitting down for long periods of time. Then you stand up and realize that the two pitchers or three whiskies you had wasn't such a good idea. The amateurs are also the people who insult the bartender or don't tip the bartender. If you're going to be a drunk jerk, get a fifth and stay at home. I'm one of those chilled out drunks. I don't cause a lot of trouble. I find that people are willing to buy liquor for me if I'm cute, charming, and nice. Unfortunately, something strange happens when I'm tipsy...I start using big words and I begin to discuss things like religion, politics, and life philosophy. I like to be drunk, but somehow I don't feel quite as drunk when I hang around people who can have intelligent conversations...and I'm glad that I have non-drinking friends so that I can sit and talk (or listen, depending on the level of inebriation) to them. Unless I'm in a mood. Then I just sit and stew over things. Like I was doing Saturday night, when I was feeling restless and alone. The Palace of Rock cheered me up. I guess seeing the very cute Tim Robbins look-alike got me out of my mood. Ah...so many men, so little time...but that's a different bar story....

I Just Can't Win II

Do you ever have those days where you didn't realize that you forgot to put change in the parking meter until well into your work day? And did you ever rationalize that you won't get a ticket because the other two times you did were well past your lunch hour? And did you ever hurry up to get to your car during said lunch hour (taken slightly early, just in case) only to find that the parking checker was there an hour ago, when you first remembered that you didn't put change in the meter?

That has been my day. I give up.

I Just Can't Win

Open Letter To The Jerk Who Broke Into My Car:

I know that you may be considerably more disadvataged than me. I have a car. You do not. And I say this because if you did have a car in the neighborhood you are in, you would have no need to break into mine. In fact, you would be worrying about people breaking into your car. I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't have much to steal in my car. That would be because everything's ALREADY stolen. Now, I'm thinking that you aren't the same person who broke into my car the first time, but if you are, I would suggest not doing it again. You see, I know people who love and care about me who can find out who you are. If you are one of the several ghetto kids, I will light you on fire. After all, you're pretty adept at lighting things on fire as evidenced by the many hours I spent at the tables on the outside of the coffee shop. You think you're a bad ass?...I'll get Spass to give you a good talking-to. And you know me and him are tight, I know his daddy, and they'll talk to you pretty hard. Oh, and go ahead and steal my car...you can pay for my parking tickets. HA. What did you think you were going to find? CD's? No chance...I learned the last time. Do you think I have anything valuable in my car? No, I don't have anything in my car of value other than a voodoo painting that my friend found in the trash that has less value than the posterboard it's painted on. So you took my roadmap...it's about ten years old, won't get you anywhere. So you took my owner's manual...what good is it going to do you? Plan to steal my car? I hope you can do that in broad daylight. Monday night was just a fluke. Just because my car's there a lot doesn't mean I live in that area, and since most of those reciepts and papers were printed with my address, that doesn't mean I live there anymore. If you can even find where I lived before. Trust me on that one. Is that why you took my roadmap? I'll laugh at you if that is the reason. What bothers me most is why you reclined my seat. Was the parking checker coming around? Did someone disturb you? Maybe that's a sign, then, that you shouldn't break into cars. I could understand if you actually stole something really important, like the title, but really, we didn't have that in the car. But you stole valueless sheets of paper. Just like the dorks who broke in the first time, they stole the $5.00 worth of factory stereo equipment that I had in my car. Blown speakers, cassette stereo, but in the new equipment boxes. Hey, they even managed to get away with the broken, speaker-blown CD/cassette/radio boombox I had. You walked away with the owner manual, four parking tickets, and a history of repairs on my vehicle. I assume that when you sober up, you'll realize that you got diddly-squat. What? Did you think that as a well-off resident of that neighborhood (HA!), I'd have wads of cash laying around in my car? Grow up. Get a job, even if it's crappy. If you're a resposible, mature person, you will do what it takes to make your living honestly. I bet if your momma knew what you were doing, she'd be sorely disappointed in you. I've got bills to pay too. You're not the only one with a hard luck story. How do I know? Because I know many people who have hard luck. Those people don't steal. You did. So now I wish bad for you. In your next life, I hope your hard earned pocessions are damaged and stolen.

And if anyone out there is contemplating a life of crime, just remember this: what you do will catch up with you, in one way or another. Don't tempt fate, it'll bite you back.