My Little Nest

I swear, one drama ends and another begins. I'm home and my meds are tapering off, which is great, but now another drama's begun. And roomie? I'm sorry I landed in the hospital before I could grammar nazi your paper.

So, new drama. Apparently the doppelganger tried (again) to commit suicide. Apparently her heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital and no one bu her dad knows where she is. Rose (her mum) is leaving Ben (her da) and she freaked, locked herself in her room and took half a bag of muscle relaxers.

I really don't know how to feel about this. We don't get along, she's told me she hates me, and the feelings usually mutual. My first fear was 'what's going to happen to me' as unfortunately, usually when one of us is majorly hurt (broken arm) the other one is affected (limping for no reason. I'm sort of scared of what might happen to me.

And if she does die, I don't know if I want to go to the funeral, because how creepy would that be, especially if it's open casket? And also, her family has the tendency to hang on me like a lost lamb, and if they were to lose her?

I don't know how to feel. Really, I just feel numb and a little oddly lonely.

Thing The First: Yvonne DeCarlo passed away. This makes me sad. No more Lily Munster in the world. *cries*

Thing The Second: I got sick in the tail end of Carmen's run! Luckily, I got better in time for closing night, which went well.

Thing The Third: Ah, writing. I've got a non-fandom piece boiling in my head as well as two fics for my Buffy/Faith 50_darkfics claim. Now to actually write them.

Thing The Fourth: Joe King I am mad at you! You missed the whole run and it's your fault I even auditioned. :p

Thing The Fifth: Sorcha, kindly get your coz to stop proposing k? plzthx.

Thing The Sixth: My doppelganger has officially broken my brain. Not only has she gotten a myspace, but she has put her orientation down as 'lesbian' and described herself as a 'crazy-ass lesbian.' Okay...WTF? Just...broken...

Thing The Seventh: I love and miss al my internet buds! Especailly hippo and evil twin!

So, I was actually going to go to church today, being that it was going to be outside and I thought it would be bloody hilarious to hear everyone try to sing a capella, but I felt like shite when I woke up this morning, so I skived off.

Good news? it got cancelled due to weather anyway, so I didn't miss a prime mocking oppurtunity after all.

Also good news: I've learned/gotten a program to make icons! Yayness.

News I'm not sure how to feel about: My half-sister Chrissy called me today and told me that she had her baby last Sunday....six months early.

My first thought was oh shite, that baby died, it's impossible for it to have lived, it's heart wouldn't be able to sustain it and the lungs would be unable to take in the oxygen needed. Second thought: I probably should feel bad for her. Third thought: But the kid's better off, especially with her smoking (and I'm fairly certain) toking up.

Me: "Uh...I don't know what to say. *half-hearted chuckle*
Chrissy: Oh my god! You sounded just like Becky right there!
Me: *death glare at phone* Really?
Chrissy: That's exactly what she said, with the same laugh and everything.
Me: (Thinking: don't snap, don't snap, don't snap) Well, what can one say.
Chrissy: Yeah, but sometimes you two are such twins.
Me: *death glare intensifies* Ah.
Chrissy: When are you coming to see me again?
Me: Um...I don't know...
Chrissy: Oh, okay, well call me when you can! *click*

She really didn'tsound all that broken up for someone that had their 2nd (maybe 3rd) miscarriage/stillborn. Or maybe I'm just used to dealing with people like Petra and Trinity who are despondant when that happens. Maybe it's just further proof that I'm a bad person that I couldn't feel bad for her.

However, Da agreed with me and said that until she gets herself together and fixes her life she should keep losing them. Needless to say I was shocked at his, but I guess he's had to deal with so much me being born on drugs and alcohol that he abhors anyone else going through that. Plus, I really don't think Chrissy would make a good mum. She needs to grow up a bit more. But I shall bite my tongue and not tell her these things.

My phone bill is sadly really really bad this month. And not just my cell phone, oh no, at home too. Apparently everyone in my life that resides overseas has thought up a reason to call me. This is not helping my 'I-want-to-travel-damn-it-itis' I'm this close to killing the next overseas person who rings me by wrapping a cord around their throat, tying it to a willow tree and dropping them.

Well that helped. i swear if I think up punishments and/or ways of homicide it makes me feel better.

I gave into the grandmother and have gone on her diet that she found. I am bloody amazed she agreed to use it! When I first read about it I thought this is way to much sodding food, but in fact, its not. It's very high carb, low fat, and extremely calorie restrictive. It's really a perfect ED diet, because who can argue with being able to get away from the table after a piece of toast as opposed to homemade food extravaganza Granny has daily.
That said? I've managed to gain weight! Granny says "Just don't get on the scale."

Yeah. Right. Like that's possible. I've weighed myself 3 times a day, average, for the past five years. And she says 'just don't step on the scale' How is that bloody possible when you put so much of your self-worth on those little numbers? Its not. Of course, this has thrown me even more back into the mirror-covered hell that is ED-NOS. I was staring at the Stackers in Wal-Mart for a good 2 minutes, knowing she'd never let me take them. She's all gung-ho about every other pill, vitamin, quick-fix, if it means no doctors, but you say 'diet pill' and she hits the roof. Sod that. I'm eighteen now. What she doesn't know won't kill her. I'm sick of my body.

On another topic, I posted a new story on Fanfiction.net, I wrote it for a challenge here on LJ, but it spun out into something I really liked.

I played paintball today, and my leg guard got hit so badly it left a bit of a scratch and a medium sized bruise on my leg. That was wicked.

When I got back from paintball, washed my hair, my grandmother calls. the one kid she still watches is there and she came in the door asking for me. I swear I have a groupie. And she's worse then my cousins who just hang around because, well, I'm heiress. Mo, this one tries to talk like me, sit next to (almost on top of me) at all times. She asked her mum for a collar like mine and according to both her mum and grandmother has talked about nothing but me since a week ago. Eh... when will people figure out that I'm not the best of influences?

Buzz showed me an article in the paper a few weeks ago about how a man killed and dismembered his brother with an electric saw and drove over four counties dropping pieces all around. Now it's 10:00am and I've woken up like 20 mins before this, so the sensible part of my brain that usually censors what I say vs. what i think isn't awake yet.
Me: Cool. Though he should've burned the fingerprints off first, and a saw's a little cliche.
Grandmother: How can you say something like that? It's a tragedy! A man's dead!
Me: Heh, Yeah, right, of course. Stupid me.
Buzz: Y'know you shouldn't tell people things like that. Keep your opinion to yourself.
Me: You showed it to me. You wanted my reaction. A guy's dead. So are lots of others. It doesn't effect me. I didn't know him, he isn't someone I care about or hate. He's a statistic.
This is why we shouldn't talk to me before I fully wake up. Bad idea unless you want Calypso: Uncensored. Circe, that sounded like a Pay-Per-View show. Oh well. Give me $5.35 or however much Pay-Per-View costs and I'll give you my opinions dark and morbid as they may be.

As promised, an actual update. Well, I really haven't been doing all that much--lugging shite back from college, catching up on sleep, watching DVDs amd trying to figure out what the bloody hell I'm going do with myself for a year.

Jobs are few and far between in ickle amish country town and ones I can walk too even less so. I'm trying to see what I need to do to legally be able to ride Buzz's moped around, because everyone I know realises I can't drive, but I love motorcycles. *goes off in a daydream for a moment* Yeah, anyway, that might help me with the getting places, but I do and don't want to be here all year.

I mean...I love my family, and I love being home...but d'you ever feel like your going stagnant? I don't know, maybe my mind's running away w/ possibilities. I swear I'm going through UK withdrawl...if I'm not a puddle of goo by the time Sept. rolls around I'll be shocked. There's nothing to do here. No Hoxton, No SoHo, no Chelsea. I dreamed I was at the Manor in N. Berwick the other night...*le sigh*

Finals were horrid. I don't know why everything had to crash around my ears this year. Any other year I could've had at least a 3.0, but no... the Norns have to screw with me this year. iF it wasn't people dying, it was my health going down the tubes.

Oh, and you want to hear something funny? My grandmother has decided I weigh too much, and I haven't been eating properly. Eight years of compulsive overeating and two of ED-NOS and now she takes it upon herself to notice my weight? She's been pestering me about it for three days and I'm close to losing my temper and blowing up. Not a comment when I was close to 20 stone and I started getting stretch marks. No...now when I'm going through the rest of the shite life has handed me on a silver charger right now.
And you can't point this out to her because she'll just deny that I was ever that heavy.

Ah, yes, yes I was. Trust the chick who weighed herself on average three times a day for the past twelve years. I may have had a bit of relapse during stress but it had been a lot worse. And i swear if she tells me all I have to do is eat normally one more time I'm going to scream. I can't eat normally. I've always been weird about food and she knows it.

Of course, I cannot scream at her because I'm me and I was raised to understand the lines of power in hereditary families, I was taught to recognise and honour those over me and be constantly respectful of the matriarch. I know my place. *le sigh.* This is why I'm such a bitch to other people and fight against stereotypes and roles--because I must obey them in my family and it gets absobloodylutely annoying.

WARNING: POETRY. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

I know some of you will know what this is about; others won't have a clue...there'll be a little explanation at the end.

Last One Standing

You know it wasn’t meant to be this way
I wasn’t supposed to see this day
I wasn’t meant to be the last
How did eight so quickly fade into the past

What the hell happened to our plan
I’m not sure if I can
Survive like some solitary exile
I try to look to the future but I taste bile

What happened to young death being rare
Was it something in the stagnant air
Or was it something we pushed away
Something our own personalities betray

Corpses and memories pull
And why is everything so pitiful
As always I am pushing for what I can’t be
But for once I wish I didn’t have to see

What we’ve always been a part of
And I wonder if She’s watching from above
‘Cause isn’t this what we make deities for?
Our suffering and mourning in so-called glory.

I wish it wasn’t like this
I wish all of you hadn’t found that abyss
As always, I’m selfish and self-centred
But I’m done playing this game—so demented


Anyway: Short explanation, a very close frienfd of mine passed away recently--the eighth one to die out of the nine of us, which kind of leaves me a bit at a loss, resulting in this particular poem.

I intensely dislike my situation right now. I have 3 papers, not all of which I'll be able to finish, finals I'm bloody positive I'm going to flunk, and happen to be in a constant low right now. I did get some sleep yesterday night, which makes my total for this week 9 hours since Sun. These sodding papers have me going completely spare. It feels like banging my head up against a concrete wall would be more productive. I feel as if my brain is going to explode. I've skipped class for the past two days to work on the sodding things because they are such a gigantic deal. One is a 25% of my grade for that class.

For all of you who knew or have heard me talk about Koda and Dakota, they've both died and I have absolutely no time to mourn, because if I do I'm just going to trap myself deeper. Koda went and got herself shot (though I rather think it was her dimwitted, imbecilic brother's fault) and Dakota died from her 3rd heart attack at the age of 22. I haven't seen them in years, not since I first joined Council, but I did keep track of them. And to the rest of my old friends who had turned they're backs on me after I joined up with Council, because I know you still read this even though you never comment, I keep up with you as well. I know I'm not someone you feel you can associate w/ anymore, after all, I was pretty vehement about Council in my day, but ask Sorcha or Lamaia, I've never betrayed you.

The drag show is on the 8th, and I'm happy about that, I'm excited about the show, really I am, and it's bloody hilarious that it falls on Mum's birthday, but at the same time, that fact is not helping my mindset. It's hard to believe it's been 10 yrs since she died, because sometimes it feels like just days, or even hours. It feels like someone's stabbed me when I think about it (And I know how that feels)and I wish I could just feel numb, nonexistant. Like I could just go to sleep w/ no dreams and never wake up. That said, of course I'll never let anyone see that much of it, after all I have an image to keep up, and most people who read this know how important that is. Showing emotions like those are weakness, a weakness is something you exploit and use. Therefore, pretty masks and doll parts, after all, the show of your life must go on!