Please don't judge...

someone because of my dealings with them.

Dear Mr AssHat.

You get defensive when I point out anything wrong with you. You yell at me, you insult me, and well, I guess that's okay. I may get like that.

But that doesn't change the fact that you are an out-and-out asshole.

Women run away from you, not because you're geeky, but because you're an asshole. If I was smarter than I was, I would have realized that a lot sooner, and left your ass hangning. But no. I am the "fucking moron" who didn't realize that you were a snob. What was that you said? "Oh, hello. Yeah, I'm a snob." You know what? I knew your kind, when I went to grade school. Oh, pity you, teased for being a geek. Oh, let me shed a tear. I almost feel sorry for you.

So. Let's say that everyday from 3rd to 7th grade went like this:

Go to school. While waiting for school to begin, someone hovers over you, and calls you a) a dyke, b) a slut, c) a fat-ass whale that couldn't even get through the straight of Alaska and finally d) the biiiiigggggest loooooooooooser on the faaaaaaaace of this plaaaaaaaaaaanet. Every school day.

Get into school. Not only is a-d repteated, but more insults. Oh, and how dare you answer a question right -- even though you've contracted a mysterious illness that has kept you out of school for weeks, and no one would bring you your homework, and you still manage to figure out the answer to the math problem. Repeat a-d again, plus the added insults, oh, and add even more to that.

Lunch. No one looks at you. You are insignifigant. You are scum. Plus a-d, and all of the forty-two insults from the beginning of the day. You are nothing.

Back into school. At least the class clown is clowning around, and a few precious moments are spent laughing at someone else. But then, it's back to you, as you are the Looooooser of the Eeeeeaaarth.

Once school is over, then you have to make the arduous trek home, where people will throw things at you, a) because people from your school have told everyone else in the school district how you're a-d, and then some, and b) you're wearing a Catholic school uniform.

You fucking snob. Do you even know what's it's like not to be there. No, you don't, given that you're a goddamn snob. You insult my intelligence, just by talking to me. You have no fucking clue what the real world and its true harshness is like. Have you ever really worked a day in your life, that wasn't handed to you a silver platter? Asshole.

Oh, I'm sorry, was that me being judgemental? I know I'm female and all, so I guess it was just a simpleton mistake....

I won't speak to you agian. I won't make that mistake twice.

Dear James,

For the love of god, please come visit me soon. I am soooo bored, with just about everything. And the Puppy-Dog is following me around, it's very annoying. I need you to visit, and give me some much needed laughter...at myself, the world, whatever.

I've been having odd dreams lately. One involved a guy, with long hair, medium brown, and we were at a party. He asked me if I knew Mr Blond, but he didn't know that it was Mr Blond. I told him the truth, that we'd been dating, and he cringed. "I really feel sorry for you," he said. Later, for some unknown reason, we ended up sitting in a hot tub, naked. Of course, there was no hanky-panky, because in my dreams, I'm only naked when I'm confident.

And then there was this dream about a guy. He kinda looked liked you, except thinner and with much darker hair. He was wearing black, and he quoted an Audioslave song to me, and then started dancing with me. Which, I suppose, is not odd...except that we were in a bar I've never been to before. And later, he argued with Mr Blond. But mostly I remember the hair. Short, dark brown, almost black, styled kinda spikey. Goatee. But really charming. And passionate. And he talked about something which only you and I really ever talked about...the playmate. You know what I mean. And that was soooo odd.

But admist this, I'm doing okay. Give Celia a hug for me. And you should visit soon.

Love,
Sporkester

Yeah.

Audioslave=crack.

Really. I can't go more than a few hours.

It hasn't been that bad since...since I don't know when. Soudngarden? Ok, some really good songs I liked. But not like this. Not this obsessiveness. Not this "oh-my-god-it's-seeped-deeply-into-my-brain" kinda thing. Like I say, What The Hell Is Wrong With Me.

It's just as bad as Eminem's Encore. Crack, I tell you. In the form of music. But crack nonetheless.

Ok, so I do know since when. But still...Must listen obsessively. Can....not....stop.
It's either the music or the dreams it gives me.

ARG!

No

Nobody can make me talk. Really. I am exceptionally good at things being perfectly fine, especially when they're not. But on the other hand, I want to talk. Really. I always feel, though, that I'm saying the same things, over and over again, and can't stop. I feel that I can't make a point to save my life. So, I'd rather not say anything than chip in, keep quiet rather than say the same stupid fucking thing over and over again. What's on my mind? Nothing new. Same old shit. How to get from Point A to Point B. That's it. It's incredibly dull, and don't try to ignore or downplay that fact. I know it. You know it. It's obvious. And when I try to have a discussion, well, I feel that my points are somehow invalid. Like whatever point I'd like to bring up is either wrong or unrelated. Doubly worse if it's the same shit AND unrelated to anything. I'm not even sure if it's just me right now or not. Did I learn this from somewhere? Did I learn to be boring? Is the blame to be put on my shoulders or someone else's? I just don't know.

The Murmers: "Right now there's dust on my guitar, you fuck/and it's all your fault/you've paralyzed my mind/and for that, you suck..."

And then there's this crazy Audioslave kick I've been on. It's like an addiction. And it's making me have weird dreams about meeting men. I'll post about my dreams at a later date, but right now, either I'm getting messages from my mom, or my mind is cruelly torturing me. And it wasn't like that before I was listening Audioslave everyday at work. GOD. What's wrong with me?

Just a note...

I am sure that in addition to drug dealing, my mom would've gone for this. You know, to supplement the income.

Wow!

This is kinda surrealistic.

I was in a very, very large church. It was built in a semicircle, and there were endless rows of chairs, much like a movie theater. The carpeting in the church was red. The most striking thing about it, next to the caniverousness of the place, was the where the altar and pulpit where: on the red carpet, the bright white of these objects stood out starkly, and the black accents stood out nicely. The wall was a bright white, and you couldn't help but look at it. The rest of the church walls were darkly colored, although as I took my seat, I took no notice of them; instead, I was transfixed by the whiteness of the wall, and the chair for the preacher, and the pulpit.

The chairs were plush and very comfortable. One could almost fall asleep in them. Once everyone was seated -- and really, it took awhile for that, with all the visiting people tend to do when they enter church -- the service began. The presider walked in, wearing a vestment of white and black, and began to preach.

And then wall lit up. Which would have been a really neat Jesus effect, like a sermon with a Powerpoint presentation, ("You are going to hell in these ways..."), if the screen wasn't showing commercials. Coke, I remember, was advertised, among other things. Oh, and there was trivia, which the congregation could participate in, using a little hand-held number pad that pulled out of the armrest.

Needless to say, I was stunned.

I looked around, finally noticing the people. They were nodding rhythmically to the preacher's voice, while trying to beat their neighbor at the trivia questions. And then I started to listen to what he was saying. Horrible things. Unchristian things. I had to get up out of my seat. I made my way to an aisle, and then started walking down it, staring at the preacher with horrific fascination at this whole ungodly spectacle. Suddenly, he picked on a parishoner, saying their name, and telling that person exactly why they are going to hell. I couldn't take it any longer. I started yelling at him at the top of my lungs, about how horrible he was and that he was misusing the words of Jesus and the Bible. At first, he didn't hear, but as I got closer, he noticed me. I was yelling and yelling, trying to get someone in the congregation to hear me, but no one did, they were all too busy with the trivia, and TV, and the preacher. Even as I stood next to someone sitting in an aisle seat, they paid me no mind. And then the preacher did a funny little hand signal, and suddenly there were several men coming up and down the down the aisle at me...

And then I woke up.

To this day, I have no idea what posessed me to dream that. It felt so real and I was so relieved that it had just been a dream.

WiFi in the church? What's next? Powerpoint? Coke commercials?