Welcome to the strange...

I'm just full of Wednesday 13 quotes today so let's begin with one. "Sit right up for the ride of your life, the line starts here at the back of my mind." I'm going to try my damnedest to keep this from turning into a rant but I get the feeling that it's going to end up there, simply because I have very very very little tolerance for people...

Let me begin with an apology for the delay in posts. I'm sorry. It's been a busy week. You'll get to hear all about it because the things that have kept me from writing are the things I'm here to rant about. This isn't going to be an emotional, "here's what I'm feeling" sort of post. I'm not going to tell you about the strange goings-on in my mind, I'm going to tell you about the strange goings-on that happen to me on a daily basis. I suppose listening to Wednesday, Murderdolls, Maniac Spider Trash, Frankenstein Drag Queens, and The Texas Drag Queen Massacre is not really helping my mood. They're just yelling for less and less tolerance. But they're all in the same music category and they really are a few of my favorites so... What the hell...

Let's start with the ballet company; one of the things in my life that means quite a great deal to me. I already know what you're thinking, and the answer is yes, I would give a a major organ to make sure that no one screws with my company. So call the surgeon and slice me open because Ballet Northeast is being majorly screwed over!!! I'm going to get ahead of myself momentarily (like that doesn't happen on a regular basis) and apologize for the lack of details. A lot of things happened recently that I don't feel I'm at liberty to discuss because 1) though I have the knowledge that doesn't mean it is my responsibility to inform the world 2) I feel that I am professional and people can have confidence in my understanding that what they have told me is not really my property 3) certain details are not fully formed and have not been carried all the way out and 4) I don't really know who is reading this blog unless you, dear reader, speak up. So since I know there are a few people out there who will read this, not drop me a line, and then run it through the rumor mill until the facts are cut to ribbons and no longer carry any weight I'm going to be ambiguous. This is not meant to start "drama," as I, in fact, hate even the notion of it. The reason I'm writing is for my own sake; this is already too much drama for me and I am using this blog as an outlet. So in the first place, this is my tool and I respect your reading of it but it is not yours to take and run with. If that is your intention leave, NOW.

See what you've done? I already have people in mind who would do such a thing and it is taking my mind from one rant to another. Hush! This is not about you...

Simply, all that needs to be known is that I'm very upset with the way this move from one location to another occurred. As if it's not hard enough to say goodbye to a studio that one has been dancing in for 10 years and re-locate, but let's drop even more garbage that doesn't need to be involved on top of it. I doubt that the culprits are reading, since they don't care an ounce about the dancers in the studio let alone go out of their way to find out what they're doing outside the ballet, but you know who you are. By garbage I mean all of your forms and unnecessary emails. Stop hiding and face everyone, cowards. My father made a very good point the other day whilst we were discussing these sordid events. He paid for the moving truck, my ballet mistress paid for the rental space, one board member didn't bother to show up or pay for anything, and the other went out of town for the entire period of the move and then called everyone involved "irresponsible." Pathetic.

 Whew, that was a long one... Glad you didn't hold your breath, or you'd all be goners. Not necessarily a bad thought... Though I'd run out of readers very quickly... I suppose it's better off that you live.

Let's move on to earlier this morning; history class. I really and truly love every moment of it. My professor is simply hysterical and one of the best storytellers I know. (Cherish these positive and loving words... They're not going to come around very often.) But then there are the people in my class... I've never been in the company of a bigger group of idiots in my life. Now before you run with this and think, "What a bitch! She barely knows them. And who is she to deem them idiots without knowing all of their inner workings. Blah blah blah..." allow me to explain. If one does not know something, that doesn't make them an idiot. There are plenty of things that I don't know about history. More than plenty, actually. What makes a true idiot is when this same person who doesn't know a great deal on a topic, interrupts class to throw out a ridiculous comment that ends up not having anything to do with anything. Don't pretend that you know things to try and buddy up with the professor. In fact, you just look stupid and you're making the instructor notice that you are bothersome. Oh, and you're making me want to kick your teeth in. Remember: no tolerance. I actually wrote down a few examples today because they were too crazy for me to even believe the first time. Here they are:

We were discussing the years after the rule of Elizabeth I. Let me just add as a reminder, this was during the 16th century. The discussion turned to where the British would find a new ruler since Elizabeth did not have an heir. Suddenly, this this brilliant question is shouted out. "Is this when Braveheart happened?" What?! Seriously? First, where the hell did that come from? We're discussing the new heir, not a war between the Scots and England. Nevermind that fact that Braveheart actually occurred during the 13th century. Oh and by the way, let's keep Hollywood out of historical fact please. Yes, it was an actual event in history, I know. But let's not forget the way that Hollywood just screws up all the real facts. They're not looking for historical truths, they're looking for ticket sales.

My second favorite was the argument that broke out between the professor and this same student. You want to know what it was over...? Which was the first colony: Jamestown? or Delaware? Yes folks, this actually became an argument. It wasn't bad enough that this asinine statement was spewed out onto the floor to even be considered, it became a full fledged argument. The instructor has a doctorate in history and you just asked him if the First War of Scottish Independence occurred while England was looking for a replacement for Elizabeth I and now you're going to fight with him and say that Delaware was the first colony? You really think this is one that you're going to win? Honestly? More guts than I have, I suppose. Either that or I just know when to shut the hell up and listen.

They just get better and better... We had moved on to nationalism. Nationalism is a political ideology that involves a strong identification of a group of individuals with a political entity defined in national terms, i.e. a nation. Well, there's the dictionary definition for you. There is a great feeling when a group of people refer to themselves as "Americans" and not as "Pennsylvanians" or "New Yorkers." Are we good on this idea? I'm glad. Now the problem was not caused by a misunderstanding in the concept. Here's the question, "Which of the 50 states isn't nationalistic?" The correct answer is Texas; they're the lone stars and all... Whatever. If they don't want to join the nation, let 'em be. But the answer that came from behind me was, "Puerto Rico?" ... I don't even think I can say anything about this. If you know me, you know the face I made...

Finally, (I promise I'm finishing up now. Promise. Stay with me.) I'm a huuuuuge French history buff. I know, I know... Not many people actually like the French. But I find the French Revolution absolutely fascinating. Tale of Two Cities is my absolute favorite book and I could spend the rest of my life roaming through the gardens of Versailles. We were discussing the fact that Louis XVI had very poor advisers. He was not the strongest monarch that France had ever had, but he also didn't have any good decision makers behind him. Someone raises their hand as asks if Rasputin was one of them... I give up...

Now that all of that is out of my system, I feel sort of empty. I had all of these great earth shattering things to tell you... And now it's all gone. It's strange, I've been feeling like this quite often recently. Maybe I'm running out of things to talk about. Real things, with substance. You tell me...

...slipping back into post mortem boredom...

Let 'er RIP...

Yes, ladies and gentleman, it's a Texas Drag Queen Massacre sorta day... Megan and I were watching the Chiller channel last evening (what ever did we do before that streamed onto our TV screen?!) and I've been feeling rather ghoulish ever since...

If you haven't listened to them, I suggest that you find them. They're the same band but under a new name these days; Al B. Damned. I would compare them to Wednesday 13 and the Murderdolls, except they're British... They could use a few more supporters so that they can make the little trip across the lake to play a show here. I was told that a ticket to a rock show was not a proper way to write off a plane ride to England...

I've been thinking about perfection, due to a conversation I was just having. It involves my friendship with Barbie. Friendship, you ask? Well of course we'd be friends! She'd be obligated to like me, she's perfect. She has this job of upholding everyone's perceptions and expectations. Her life sucks. But she's perfect, remember? So she has to happy about it. No one loves a sad Barbie. Therefore, we would be best friends. Too bad she couldn't function as a human. Her waist is too tiny for her to menstruate properly... See the cost of perfection?

I've been in a rather household domestic sort of mood lately. Sort of a June Cleaver, pearls and all, apron bloodied and holding a hatchet. My kids are going to love coming home to me. Can you imagine my husband finding an eyeball in his martini instead of an olive? This is all besides the point. I meant to start talking about my baking... I really want to bake something from scratch. I have the ability and the creativity, it's just time that is my enemy. He will be defeated though; locked in an iron maiden, draining his blood and using it Erzsébet Báthory style. I will make something for next week though; Jared's mouth watered when I told him what I was planning on making. I feel that a "welcome back to Wilkes Barre for the semester" cake is in order. I'll let you all know how that turns out... Maybe even with pictures! Can you stand the excitement?

I might write more later. Stay tuned to the UK's No.1 Shock Rocker, Al B. Damned...

...Put your arms in the air for shock n' roll!

\m/

There's a drug for this...

I'm frantically picking the polish from my fingers. Tearing it off as though it were burning me. Clearly, there's something on my mind. Jealousy, rage, the feeling of being trapped... These all sum up my thoughts. Can I place them into actual words that you can understand without being inside the mind of the tortured thinker? Probably not.

I thought long and hard about ending these posts today; deleting the whole damn thing. A total of one post, right out the window. Would that be noticed? I doubt it; I doubt it was even read by any outside entity other than its writer. And even then it was barely read. I tend not to "proof-read," except for spelling mistakes. Reading over what I've written just makes me want to throw it all away. So if I'm going to keep this up, there will be none of that. Besides, it's another way for my critical self to find a way to censor what I write. If I read it over and over, the whole thing will come out pretty and fake, just like everything else I do.

Nothing about my thoughts is pleasant. I try to make it seem as such because I'm afraid of losing people. I make friends here and there, but does anyone really get it? I don't think so, but if you feel like you do then speak up! I'd like to know.

After three paragraphs, this is turned out just as I thought; a series of thoughts that really have nothing to do with anything. Nothing is related to itself, it's just me blankly typing. The thought makes me want to cry. Real crocodile tears. That's sad, isn't it? Sitting in front of my computer screen and crying over things I've written simply because there's no order...

I've been told that I'm too emotional. Did you ever think that I have just the right amount of emotion and all of you are cold and hardened? Of course not. Because I'm always apologetic and critical, it's much easier to push it off as my problem and not yours. But don't worry...

...I'm sure there's a drug for this.

\m/

On a roll...

Been on a Marilyn Manson kick all morning... I'm not sure exactly what that says about my mood these days. I have room in my favorite music space for all different sorts of genres, but I tend toward black metal on a daily basis. But he's been haunting me. I don't really care to hear the opinions of others in this community about him. To some he's a god to others he is just an ill representation of human life; he intrigues me. I wouldn't say he's the best thing to ever wander across my spectrum of music, but I seem to find something in his lyrics every time he fades in and out of my headphones. Some times he's significant, for right now he seems to just be amusing me. Some times I relate to him, other times he's a total stranger. I think I just read into the artist behind the music too much...

On to real life...

It's pouring today. Thanks for small favors; cooling off this fireball planet I've been living on for the past week. It's amazing that I haven't lost all of my water weight; unfortunately. At the same time, this totally changes my day. I was attempting to go shopping with my sister to my new obsession; Charming Charlie. Ladies reading, this store is your accessory wet dream. Unfortunately, it's located at an outdoor strip mall. We were going to spend the afternoon strolling along, shopping, and having sisterly bonding time. I think we're rather resolute though; this shopping trip will still happen. Instead we will have to drive around, bond in the car, and run in and out of establishments like little drowned rats. Glad I'm in a white t-shirt today...

Another happiness... Glad I grabbed my umbrella out of my car before heading to the library. My foresight amazes me...

I'm really trying to keep this from turning into some sort of self absorbed study on myself. But really, isn't that what a blog is? I mean, it could be poetry or any other creative outlet. But I've got Marilyn in my ears and he is preaching to my arrogant side. Most people don't see this; I'm very modest. Consider yourself "blessed," if you could call it that.

Often I worry that I'm not as creative as I think I am. That's silly, isn't it? Here I go quoting Nikki Sixx... In his new book, he wrote something like, "Creativity is letting go. It has nothing to do with like or dislike; in style or out of style. It's being hurt and then letting it all go to heal yourself. It's not soft and kind; it's like laying your head down on a bed of nails." I'm paraphrasing, mind you. I think he makes his point, though. Why question whether I am more or less creative than the next person? Well, because I'm overly critical of myself, for starters. Also, before this week, I was very concerned with the thoughts and opinions of others on what I do and say. But fuck that. Those thoughts are gone now. I'm trying to get my point out without giving the impression that I'm on some sort of crusade to be heard. I'm not; just feels good for me to see what I'm typing and know that it's true. I feel better knowing that I'm not constantly trying to censor myself. Everyday people fight against being censored by peers, and I generally sit and do it to myself. Internal conflict, much? Also the cause of my critical view? I answer yes to these...

I don't think that I slept well. I don't think that I ever sleep well. People ask and I answer in the positive simply because it's expected. When one complains of troubled sleep, the very next question that is asked is, "why?" Like they really want to know about the problems. My mind races with worry... Constantly. If anyone has a cure... Send it along.

\m/