Rant Your Brains Out #298726927

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GAH! Is it really that hard to find a job in this city? It's freaking HUGE how are there no jobs! D:< Although I might need to be less picky >_>
 
I'M IN A HORRIBLE HORRIBLE MOOOOOOODD! D: I know it's just because I'm soaking up everyone's bad vibes, and this PMS that is taking too long and my period being three days later than normal which makes me crankier and paranoid and gives me nightmares about babies.

I'm tired of being pissed off about stuff. D:< I need some HAPPYHAPPY MUSHY LALA.
 
Just put a fist through a plate glass window after taking a baseball bat to a few doors, and slamming my foot through some drywall. Man, I've never been so pissed for no apparent reason... Why is it that I only feel good when I'm angry as fuck, and in the process of destroying shit?

Ugh.... I hope I figure out what's really eating at me or I'm going to wreck something really expensive.
 
You're so fucking lazy. I'm the only one who does any cooking and cleaning. I'm also the only one looking for a job. Hell, I'm over here selling my belongings so we can have money for food. :/

And what do you do? What have you done? You've applied for ONE job. Oh whoop-da-doo. If your video games are SO damn important, then you can just kiss and make love to those instead. I'm sick of being second to everything.

You ain't ready to grow up, boy. You're about to be 19 years old, but still act like an irresponsible teenager. That's why we're having money issues. Because of your laziness in school. Else, you wouldn't have been dismissed. GRRR.

If I wasn't so in love with your family, I'd end this. Isn't it sad that I'm more afraid of hurting your family, than I am of hurting you?
 
I am NOT spending a THOUSAND dollars on a 4 hour wedding reception! x_____X Fuck that! That's a brand new computer! Or dishwasher!
 
It's not that I need a reality check, it's that I don't think that I deserve a better reality.
 
People refuse to back off no matter what I try to do. Just leave me in my excessively cold and crowded room, sleeping away reality because I don't want to live in this one. Some days it would be easier to blow my brains out. Fortunately (or unfortunately), I ain't got a gun.

Grawr. I don't know why I'm feeling so grumpy and angry and anti-social lately.
 
SON OF A FUCK. D:< If you want me to BUY something, you don't fucking tell us to call you then never answer your phone! Or tell us to come over on a specific day and time and not fucking be home! Or set dates and times to meet BUT FUCKING NEVER SHOW UP OR CANCEL LAST MINUTE.


I could have already purchased a new bed TWO MONTHS AGO and not had to deal with all this bullshit!

IF I DON'T SEE RESULTS TODAY, MISTER, YOU CAN SUCK IT. >:[
 
I hate that the redneck family's teenage son is staying here about as long as we are. His whistling is obnoxious and loud, he drank all my soda, he ate the last of the cake they were saving for ME and refuses to sleep upstairs, so I can't watch a movie before bedtime like I normally would do every night. Now, he's interfering with a family visit we gotta attend this weekend. "Would you like us to drop you off at home when we get to Portland?" "No, I want to stay here."

FFFFFFF- NO. NO. NO. GO HOME. WE DON'T LIKE YOU HERE.

Dammit, I just want to go back to my apartment in Bellingham. All of this blows.

EDIT: Oh, he also drank the rest of MY booze. What the FUCK, man? >:[ Why is the 15 year old drinking alcohol!? And my boyfriend's parents didn't stop him!!!! Fuck you all. *karate chops a civilian in half!*
 
*Casts cure Redneck on Fluffu's house*

This is a repost from my facebook:

[h=6]Glendive Medical Center can suck a fucking chode. We sat in the E.R. waiting room, my daughters face SWOLLEN, for two and a half hours. An hour and a half of that there were TWO beds open, they were just sitting in the reception area with their THUMBS UP THEIR ASSES. I realize they were busy when we got there, but THERE WERE THREE PEOPLE BEHIND US GETTING THE SAME GODDAMN SHIT STICK[/h]
 
I AM TIRED.

LET ME SLEEP.

DON'T EVER WAKE ME UP.

I dream to avoid this shit.
 
Damn... a twelve block walk home in the pouring rain. I've never gotten splashed by so many passing cars, or gawked at by the passengers.

Yeah... I think I'm done being social for a time. Being nice, and trying to have some casual conversation over a few drinks has never shot me in the face so many times.
 
I hate how I can be in an AWESOME mood after finally working something out and then something small and stupid can bring me down to one of those really awkward feeling emo moments. It wasn't even something that's going to make a difference or even negatively effect stuff. But I still have that unsettled feeling and it's really hard to get rid of. ><

Maybe all of these up and down stress and happy stuff is messing with my body's mood functions. x____x I NEED TO LEVEL OUT.
 
Yes, I appreciate the fact that you are a crack-addicted prostitute--but can't you pick a more convenient time to do this?
 
Eh...
You're such an awful friend. I don't really mind, you know. While I think you're a good person at heart, I'm sorry but I don't expect much from you. You're a flaky person, a sometimes druggie, a frequent drunk, and overall I think that you need to grow up. It doesn't really bother me, though. I know that when you need me, you'll come around (even though you're older than me) and I'll be here to help you out.

Still... the others... they expected more from you. You shouldn't make promises you won't keep and swear up, down, sideways, and diagonal that you'll be there for them. Just disappoints them. I don't get hurt anymore, but you hurt them and if you hurt them much, they might start to dislike you.
Could you at least try to be a little more reliable?
 
Really mother nature? REALLY? You're going to AGAIN give me my period ONE FUCKING WEEK after I had my late one, and pretend like you're on the normal schedule? What happened there, mother nature? Did I miscarry last week? >:[ Am I pregnant NOW and just spotting so you can say HAHA GOTCHA BITCH? Are you just a big cunt-face or have we decided I'm going to have an early menopause? Perhaps it's time for me to in to a PSYCHO fueled by non-stop period rage?

I hate you so much.
 
The prophecy is complete. When I first came to Cornwall my aunt had a simple solution to my solitude. "Don't worry, Greg," she said between tango steps in the kitchen, "Everyone will find out you have a car and then you'll be that friend who drives people around!"

At the time I thought this desperate - the hysterical promise of a woman with no way out from my self-entrapment. But now, five years on, I have the pleasure of driving the dark mirror of my soul to work this morning.

His name is Brent - our names sound the same when they're yelled across a call centre - and like most "friends" I have received in my life Brent has stumbled on the comedic holy grail of realising he can call me Gregory and tell me that I'm 'quiet' every hour.

I don't get that. Usually quiet people aren't told they're quiet. You only tell someone they're quiet when it's out of the ordinary. But since I am perpetually quiet it must be that ordinarily they feel a different kind of noise from me - the offshoot energy of my psychic exuberance - and cannot marry it with my laconic presentation.

"Don't trust anyone, Greg," he advises me in his wrist-slitting Nothern drawl. "You can't trust anyone in that call centre. You tell them anything and they'll go and tell everyone. You're the only one I trust not to gossip."

I nod and continue taking mental notes for my blog.

He's 41, lives above a cafe, and has just bought a kitten. He prides himself on starting arguments where arguments are needed and cultivating germophobia and paranoia in equal measure. When we get out of the car he walks ahead of me, as quickly as his little legs can carry him, so that no one will think we are friends. His company is half-confession and half-interrogation, a barter trade of leverage and apology. I spend my shifts at the desk beside him, listening to him ramble between calls and spout random comments in a variety of accents - anything to ward off my silence. Perhaps he will soon seek a confrontation with me, so I might become a marker on the navigation of his rutted existence.

Given my condition - my interpretation of the world in archetypes - I am never sure if I freely allow others to dominate me or if I have no choice in the matter. I certainly don't feel put out. I listen to their thrusts and parries and all the strange squeaks that I elicit in those terrified of silence. And all the while I remember that I am better than them.

Perhaps the ultimate superiority complex: one in which I feign ironic docility. At the end of the day I suppose it's better to wear my ignorance and conceit on the inside.

Today I shadowed a pair of girls (they consented - it was a work thing) and they reminded me of how anomalous I am when I engage people proactively. The usual "deer in the headlights" look set in, whereby a pause and a blank stare followed each of my comments. Luckily I talked about clubbing once, so they refrained from reaching for their rape alarms. It reminded me that, at least in the world of call centres, I am best as a limited robot and sounding board. Anything more brings apocalyptic confusion.

I like to think I make sense. Perhaps it's a form of Alzheimers - to think I am perfectly understandable while all others hear stilted gibberish. It seems like every other human being was taken aside at school (probably when I was crying in the toilets over that silly dead brother business) and taught the codes by which to hide behind small talk and vacuous comments. I really should claim Asperger's and get some benefits - there has to be some payoff besides articulate and moving blogs that make me sound like a perfectly well-adjusted misanthrope.

So perhaps I have nothing to fear. I will never become like Brent, convinced that only cats will love me, starving myself before each weighing at the slimming club, and finding my sole pleasure in 'slasher films, Greg, where they get chased and they think they've escaped but then they get caught and killed'.

I'd like to be someone that people can't blog about - whose multifaceted enigma defies archetype.

I am a claustrophobic undertaker. I force all others into my boxes but fear them for myself.

Perhaps they too hide their beauties, and yet an ugly part of me fears they do not.

I never want to be like Brent.
 
My complaint is simple. My neighbor has this dog that barks all the time. And cries in the early morning hours. I want to cry.
 
Ugh, I feel absolutely useless.
Part of me feels like I've thrown something away, one route to my life, but really there was nothing there for me. I hose not to attend that school because it was crummy and it treated my major like a joke. Party major or not, don't sign me up to party by default!!
I feel like a failure though, since I'm going to take a semester off of classes. I'll return, to another college, in the spring. If I can get in. But with a new major, my other love. Choosing between the two was hard enough, but why must you treat one like a joke?

Since I'm not a student and no one is willing to hire me since I haven't got any job experience... I guess for now I'm a pretty big disappointment. v_v;
 
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