(no subject)
well the time has come...contemplation has inflated my thoughts to a point far exceding the capacity of my skull, so it is time that my thoughts find themselves, once again, on the forgotten but beloved LIVEJOURNAL....
so im that kind of person...the wishy washy kind. the one who thinks everything lines up somehow (gotta be more than coincidence) but cant manage to understand neither philosophy nor religion. i dont believe i have more than a grain of decisiveness within my bones...or blood for that matter. nor my brain. really nowhere at all. there stands my point.
im the kind of person (the wishy washy kind) who reaches for peoples hearts when they need loving, but seem to push hearts away when they try to give it. it somewhat counteracts and makes me less of a real person. there i said it...i am not a real person.
im that kind of person (the not real kind) who cant live without family but somehow manage to convince myself that they cause the majority of problems in my life. in actuality, im the line of music while theyre the dynamics. a little shout fight...just crescendoing to a forte...a little alcoholism?...just creating layers; harmonies...a little lying?...just some tension in the chords. it all works out to be a wonderful composition.
so heres the random flow of my thoughts..ready go.
what happens is...college college meet some friends...ope a boy?? no no. a boy? wrong again. just cant compare...college college working college. alcohol?? occasionally...mostly rarely, only thrice or quadruple a time. college FAMILY?? where are you?
my grandma got breast cancer 2 weeks ago. she got surgery...they found more. she has to get another surgery. no chemo though THANK YOU JEEEESUS.
i got my first stitches. theyre in my hand...only 3 but enough to leave a harry potter scar ("...if you keep tearing out the suchers...")
my grandpa died a few days ago. favorite man ever, completely unexpected. i saw him today. it was a "viewing." i went to mourne with family but wasnt planning on actually "viewing". turns out, if you enter the building, you have no choice. there he is. sweet grandpa lying unnaturally posed. painted and deflated, glued and sewed... fake as a dummy, creepy as all fucking hell. his drooping face was caved in, and his lips were glued shut, i could see the glue between the lipstick. i dont remember grandpa ever wearing lipstick. his face paint didnt quite match his dark and comforting age spots...his fingertips were turning blackredbluepurple and the rest of his hand looked like plastic. he was wearing a wool suit. grandpa liked broncos sweaters and overhauls...not wool suits. his nose used to be hairy...it was carved out so that if you tried, you could see right up his nostril and through to his tired brain. worst thing i have ever witnessed. i almost threw up, not gonna lie. i started shaking like i was serving a death sentence in the electric chair. know when you get nervous or anxious and your leg starts bouncing up and down at 100 mph?? yeah...i hit 200 and my brake nerves were cut...spread the shaking to my whole body and you should get the picture.
things like this change me. little things in me are altered. i notice how i feel and what i do on initial reaction..and then what i do because it is expected. at both memorials of my deceased grandparents this year, someone from outside the family has taken it upon themselves to pray or take the first step towards burying (literally and mentally) the memories. both cases pissed me off. i dont wanna hear some lady i dont know pray about my grandpa like she knew him. she didnt. id rather people didnt spit off nice, fake comments from the tips of their tongues. id rather be sad and then laugh between tears when i remember something funny he said or did. talking about it doesnt even seem like the right thing to do. everyone should wallow in their own thoughts and only talk when theres a memory someone else shared. k maybe not but thats what i felt like doing.
i have a headache.
stelth and i mastered the lindy. maybe not mastered, but at least aced it. i love swing dancing with him.
carlos taught me to salsa.i love salsa dancing with him.
i got green apple jones soda CHAPSTICK. mmm. i think it just makes me lick my lips more, which leads to chapping which leads to more applying of chapstick which starts the cycle all over again. its vigorous.
goodnight.
so im that kind of person...the wishy washy kind. the one who thinks everything lines up somehow (gotta be more than coincidence) but cant manage to understand neither philosophy nor religion. i dont believe i have more than a grain of decisiveness within my bones...or blood for that matter. nor my brain. really nowhere at all. there stands my point.
im the kind of person (the wishy washy kind) who reaches for peoples hearts when they need loving, but seem to push hearts away when they try to give it. it somewhat counteracts and makes me less of a real person. there i said it...i am not a real person.
im that kind of person (the not real kind) who cant live without family but somehow manage to convince myself that they cause the majority of problems in my life. in actuality, im the line of music while theyre the dynamics. a little shout fight...just crescendoing to a forte...a little alcoholism?...just creating layers; harmonies...a little lying?...just some tension in the chords. it all works out to be a wonderful composition.
so heres the random flow of my thoughts..ready go.
what happens is...college college meet some friends...ope a boy?? no no. a boy? wrong again. just cant compare...college college working college. alcohol?? occasionally...mostly rarely, only thrice or quadruple a time. college FAMILY?? where are you?
my grandma got breast cancer 2 weeks ago. she got surgery...they found more. she has to get another surgery. no chemo though THANK YOU JEEEESUS.
i got my first stitches. theyre in my hand...only 3 but enough to leave a harry potter scar ("...if you keep tearing out the suchers...")
my grandpa died a few days ago. favorite man ever, completely unexpected. i saw him today. it was a "viewing." i went to mourne with family but wasnt planning on actually "viewing". turns out, if you enter the building, you have no choice. there he is. sweet grandpa lying unnaturally posed. painted and deflated, glued and sewed... fake as a dummy, creepy as all fucking hell. his drooping face was caved in, and his lips were glued shut, i could see the glue between the lipstick. i dont remember grandpa ever wearing lipstick. his face paint didnt quite match his dark and comforting age spots...his fingertips were turning blackredbluepurple and the rest of his hand looked like plastic. he was wearing a wool suit. grandpa liked broncos sweaters and overhauls...not wool suits. his nose used to be hairy...it was carved out so that if you tried, you could see right up his nostril and through to his tired brain. worst thing i have ever witnessed. i almost threw up, not gonna lie. i started shaking like i was serving a death sentence in the electric chair. know when you get nervous or anxious and your leg starts bouncing up and down at 100 mph?? yeah...i hit 200 and my brake nerves were cut...spread the shaking to my whole body and you should get the picture.
things like this change me. little things in me are altered. i notice how i feel and what i do on initial reaction..and then what i do because it is expected. at both memorials of my deceased grandparents this year, someone from outside the family has taken it upon themselves to pray or take the first step towards burying (literally and mentally) the memories. both cases pissed me off. i dont wanna hear some lady i dont know pray about my grandpa like she knew him. she didnt. id rather people didnt spit off nice, fake comments from the tips of their tongues. id rather be sad and then laugh between tears when i remember something funny he said or did. talking about it doesnt even seem like the right thing to do. everyone should wallow in their own thoughts and only talk when theres a memory someone else shared. k maybe not but thats what i felt like doing.
i have a headache.
stelth and i mastered the lindy. maybe not mastered, but at least aced it. i love swing dancing with him.
carlos taught me to salsa.i love salsa dancing with him.
i got green apple jones soda CHAPSTICK. mmm. i think it just makes me lick my lips more, which leads to chapping which leads to more applying of chapstick which starts the cycle all over again. its vigorous.
goodnight.