bitterdiva

Favorite Misquote of 2002

During my lunch hour on this wonderful cold and rainy day, I was perusing my favourite jaunts to catch up on the latest news I forget to check when I'm home. Upon reading Neil Gaiman's journal I found the most fantastic misquote that I couldn't pass up. This just goes to show you how the press manipulates the most articulate of people.

Quote as it appeared in the Book Festival newspaper:
"if you don't read Harry Potter books you'll wind up in the attic sacrificing kittens to Satan at midnight".

Actual quote by Gaiman:
"It's not as if kids read Harry Potter books then wind up in an attic sacrificing kittens to Satan at midnight".

As I said, it's cold and rainy. What exactly does that do for me? It allows me to sleep! I haven't had the best sleep as I've been getting since Summer began. The Ukrainian and Polish blood in me becomes excited when the temperature outside begins to drop below 70F. I sleep with my window open and my fan on so that in the morning my room is about 10 degrees colder than the rest of the apartment. Unfortunately for my roommates, I am the reason why the rest of the apartment is 10 degrees colder than their rooms.

In the area of dreams, better sleep means more strange dreams. I love it when my subconscious decides to play with my mind and create some emotionally tied dream that has absolutely no clear representation in waking life. The other night I dreamt that I was dating a guy whose physical features I couldn’t remember except that he was tall. The feeling from the dream was that he was a mixture of my ex-boyfriend, Blaine Capatch from Beat the Geeks, and Neil Gaiman. He proposed to me and gave me a diamond that was completely not what I wanted (despite not wanting a diamond, ever). The packaging was iridescent brown wrapping paper from what I could only think of was a ring from the 70’s. My apartment was filled with rats, dead bodies, and processed cheese was smeared all over the walls. Although how non-esthetically pleasing the apartment was I felt happy and secure; especially in the arms of my boyfriend. But of course when you’re dating a 6’4” demented geek Adonis, it’s kind of hard not to with his arms enveloping you.

No prayers | 01:09 PM

Fall into depression

The sun’s intensity upon the land decreases and the trees slowly turn from green to hues of gold and red as the earth begins its journey into hibernating.

One of the most majestic parts of the year is starting to fall upon us in the northeast. I always look forward to the bright autumn days and the cool crisp nights. This is the first year that it is really starting to affect me. I’m becoming more depressed and it feels like I’m spiraling down into dark water.

I’m starting to notice things more, a veil of younger years being lifted from my eyes as I begin to see the effects of aging upon my body; more so in my face and hands. I am becoming more wrinkled. Though that doesn’t depress me but it is a never-ending reminder that I’m getting older and maturing and as such I should be starting to think about settling and starting to take my chosen path in life. I do not have a path. Most of my friends are getting married and are getting comfortable in their degree earned jobs while I toil with choices and my low salaried job. Granted it’s not McDonalds or some retail mecca. It’s a professional place and that sound does disturb me. I do not consider my job to be professional-esque, nor do I consider my salary a means to live the rest of my days on.

Awakening inside me is the need for adventure and excitement. However the needs to go off to places I’ve never been require a monetary amount to which I severely lack. And as the days begin to go into autumn my weekends of peace and quiet are being interrupted with celebrations of many. My mother’s retirement, the wedding of a friend, my roommate & best friend’s birthday, my sister’s 30th birthday, my birthday, and finally Columbus Day and my sister’s 60 mile walk.

Birthdays for me have never been a joyous event. In fact I hate them passionately. All the one’s I can remember are filled with angst and sorrow. It began on my 10th birthday where my best friend played some practical joke on me which left me locked in a neighbor’s car and completely alone. Close to my 12th birthday my father’s best friend, and my uncle died. Teen birthdays came; I again wasn’t having the best time for I had little true friends with whom to celebrate. My 16th birthday seemed like a trick. My family was getting ready for a surprise birthday for my uncle and all along I thought that it was for me. I was definitely surprised to find out that it wasn’t. My birthday was combined with my confirmation within the Catholic Church and what a Holy birthday that was. I spent my 18th birthday in college. My aunt and cousin accompanied my mother and sister and it was there that I was forced to kill a stuffed moose.

Proceeding birthdays were spent with midterms or exams and some celebration with my family. For it conveniently falls near Columbus Day at least I get a day off for it. My 21st birthday was joyous, I went home with my roommate Chris and my family planned a surprise party for me. I had a wonderful time and thought that perhaps the curse was broken. Later that evening when we got home my mother was in the hospital. She was having chest pains and turned out she required triple bypass surgery. My 22nd birthday was spent at a wake and funeral for my boyfriend’s ex roommate’s child. She would have turned 3 that year. My 24th birthday people forgot. My coworkers were out of the office and didn’t celebrate it, nor did they give me a card. However, my coworker did and so did some in another department. I had to go to class that night. For the most part people came over and celebrated but it wasn’t as joyous as other’s birthdays. I did spend the weekend before in a casino with my family and the weekend after in Montreal. I of course had to do the planning because if it wasn’t for me, that would’ve never been done.

This year I don’t get a choice for my birthday. I don’t get to spend it how I would like, I don’t have any trips to Montreal or Vermont. I get to go to NYC to watch my sister cross the finish line of her walk. I don’t think I’m going to celebrate my birthday this year. I’m turning 25; lower car insurance payments will be enough of a present. I have finally realized that I am not special and nothing magical ever happens. Last year sucked, this year has continued to not make any improvements. I can’t even think of a present to give myself which is what I usually do every year. If I do need to celebrate my birthday, I’m going to do it on Halloween.

I have realized one thing. I have been a royal bitch lately. I do not apologize for my behavior; some of you quite deserve the treatment I have given, some to a lesser extent. I have been under a lot of stress with work and feeling quite under appreciated. I am busy all day and do not have time for trite conversations revolving around puzzles, riddles, various television shows and to listen to the same conversation over and over. I value all of my relationships but I become put off by people that do not have the decency to have a conversation that is not revolved around their lives. I love you all but in my eyes, I come first not you.

2 prayers | 11:28 AM

I am to mainstream as Paris is to a friendly city

Someone insulted me today by calling me mainstream. I don’t think I’m mainstream, I don’t even know what mainstream is nor do I think I could ever reach the epitome of such. I am who I am; I do things that I like; I wear my hair how I like it. Just because I go out and chop it off and dye it red does not make me mainstream. Sure Pink and Kelly Osbourne have brought it to the forefront of fashion because they’re famous, but there are numerous individuals out there that have been doing it since before they were even conceived.

I am not a common plain individual. I stick out but by sticking out that doesn’t make me a conformist with those individuals that stick out. I don’t run with a crowd of people that dye their hair blue or purple. I don’t sit with females my age that collected unicorns when they were younger. I had my own perceptions of life when I was a kid. Sure I am jaded, bitter, angry but I’m also sensitive, pleasant, and thoughtful. I go out of my way to help people but I also discard individuals that possess qualities that I do not deem kind.

I cannot stand individuals that judge me simply by conversations. Anyone who sees me knows that I’m not mainstream. If I were mainstream then the world would be full of overweight college dropouts with interesting brain chemistry and a penchant for older British actors. If I were mainstream and cared about my appearance I would want to try my best to look how the populous does.

Speaking of which, the person in general said that America was a country that was full of manic or depressed people. So having a mental disorder is mainstream now? I guess we should thank Prozac and Ritilin and all the pharmaceutical companies for making mental disorders a fashionable affliction. Pfizer made Viagara fashionable amongst all the older males of this country with sexual dysfunction. Osbournes popularized family dysfunction. So now according to my roommate, cannibalism is the last taboo. However, the Donner’s have made money off their horrific affair and numerous comedy routines have been done regarding that topic. The topic alone is no longer taboo but actually practicing cannibalism is, sometimes I wonder what human flesh tastes like. One of my grosser hobbies is actually peeling my skin and eating it. It’s more of an obsessive-compulsive attribute. My dog used to have those, when she got bored she just started licking herself until all her fur was off and there were open sores.

I’ve recently had discussions about females and attention whores. Although this sounds hypocritical after all I am writing to some imaginary audience that may or may not be reading this (although I call them exercises in thought and creativity) I am not an attention whore. I would think I’m further from it. I don’t like attention; I never have been one to command an orchestra or a room to focus on me. I enjoy sitting in the background, plotting and scheming while all the participants go on with their lives like they should. It all stems from puberty. I was not the pretty girl that attracted the eye of males similar in age. I was the ugly friend to the pretty girl, constantly mocked and ridiculed, and on one occasion used as an exercise in hilarity when some jackass dislocated my knee because he felt like it. I don’t understand females yet I am one. It’s certainly a constant battle. I just keep remembering a conversation with a friend that told me it was all a big farce that I act like one of the guys. But that’s all I’ve known in my life. I don’t like females because they annoy me yet I lack the genitalia to be invited to a stag instead of suffering through a wedding shower.

I’m going to go play with my mainstream Lego, Star Wars, and Harry Potter toys.

No prayers | 03:54 PM

Equality in life

... or my life as it applies to Yin and Yang

Over the weekend I lost my wallet including the 120 that was inside it. That money minus 20 was to pay the phone bill. I lost it in a grocery store right before I decided that I wasn’t going to pay it that day since the line was way too long. If only I had decided to pay it either before shopping or right after maybe then some creepy lowlife wouldn’t have made off with undeserved money.

Yesterday my precious returned to me, thanks to the folks of the US Postal Service. I typically always had to thank the USPS for many things, like giving my mother and father a job; which enabled me to have a roof over my head and crappy clothes to wear, along with setting me up with years of debt so I can head off to a good college, but I digress. Someone, probably after taking my money, dropped it into a mailbox so the leather bound uselessness could be returned to its rightful owner.

Now plagued with bad karma it lies in my purse. This weekend when I am in the wonderful state of the silent “C”, I’ll go searching for it’s successor, something that’s quite similar and holds onto my car keys. After all, if I lose my wallet I can’t go anywhere if my car doesn’t go anywhere. I’ll also make sure that when I’m at the grocery store again, they don’t confuse me with their whole switching of the carts.

I’ve been having some surreal dreams lately. A culmination of reading Gaiman’s Coraline and having a mélange of people from the past and present dance their way across my dreaming stage. Last night the old MegaBitch appeared, she who makes me cringe when I think about her; she who is the reason I do not venture off into her town when I’m home.

Typically I’m a fearless person who gets into a mode and says screw my friends and those that read this bloody site. I often talk about how much I dislike a person; the injustices, fears and weaknesses of the diva. However, sometimes I’m too weary to talk about something because I don’t want to hurt my best friend or the people with whom they associate.

If it’s one thing I am certain of, I do not do well with females that pose a certain risk to myself. I do not appreciate rival females and I often have a hard time understanding and associating with them. Of course I have a couple female friends (two to be exact) and I have my sister and of course my coworkers. I don’t feel threatened by them for some reason. I would think that of all those that I’m not threatened by the main person would be my sister. She’s the epitome of what I want to be: attractive, intelligent, witty, social and the desire of many men. However I am not. It must lie in her interactions with people and her personality. I am completely different from her. She’s 70’s Disco and I’m 90’s Grunge. She’s Tiffany’s, Paris, Maeve Binchy whereas I’m Target, London, Neil Gaiman.

I worry much about what others are thinking about me and how people talk about me. I guess today it’s a curl up in my shell day. Many people have different perspectives on me: easy going, fun, and compassionate; hard to approach, stern, and belittling; eccentric, spontaneous, and witty. I am ruled by my mood some days.

Just took the Keirsey Temperament test, apparently I’m an Artisan.

No prayers | 09:49 AM