bitterdiva

Freitag Fünf

1. What are your favorite ways to relax and unwind?
I sit down and watch tv while my kitty pesters me for love and attention. Or I watch Harry Potter, both a tool to relax and masturbatory material. Except I don’t masturbate, I probably should, maybe it would release some of the pent up angst. The main way of me unwinding is posting here. If I’m extremely worked up, I rant a little and the world is happy again with a less bitchy, angsty diva.

2. What do you do the moment you get home from work/school/errands?
Put my keys down as I’m greeting my roommates. Then my bookbag and purse. Then I take off my boots. Then I bitch about the jackass who is able to go off on some string of derogatory slang terms for their race. Then I pet Poopoos. Afterwards, I sit down and watch tv or I eat. It all depends on the day. Monday and Tuesday I have it pretty easy so I just come home after picking up covzilla. Wednesdays and Thursdays I get home around 9:30 and am usually doing the peepee dance. Fridays are either I’m going to Connecticut days or I’m coming home to nap.

3. What are your favorite aromatherapeutic smells?
Well they’re probably someone else’s, but my current scents that act like aromatherapy are MacIntosh and Rose. I often use Dove to calm me down. It reminds me of my mother and it brings a sense of security in my extremely stressed life.

4. Do you feel more relaxed with a group of friends or hanging out by yourself?
I feel more relaxed with a group of friends. Left to myself, I would have a panic attack and start throwing breakable items across the room. I’ve done this before. My friends are all pretty mellow; I’m the Tweak of the South Park group. Just like this morning, I was freaking out because I left my cell phone in the car and had them searching for it with me. Of course Mastah P was trying to calm me saying I probably mental went back into the car and grabbed it when I didn’t. He was right. Sorry man, I was such a flake this morning.

5. What is something that you feel is relaxing but most people don't?
Plotting death and destruction. I always enjoy the fleeting moment when I picture the bane of my current anger dying in a multitude of ways. E.coli in the water, anabuse in their salad, dismemberment, decapitation, summoning c’thulhu on their soul, and that cool move Vader does by suffocating a person without touching them. Now that’s a power I wish I possessed.

2 prayers | 12:12 PM

The Mighty Oak

The sharp metal teeth of the chainsaw were no match for the ailing oak tree. He once stood tall and proud shading the residents of the house during the summers. He adored their gratitude as he provided them with the occasional cool breeze. And in the autumn, the children collected his leaves as they fell and gathered them into a pile. The little ones always enjoyed expending their energy as they ran and jumped onto Leaf Mountain. He would laugh as the leaves were forced up into the air and float slowly back down creating disarray on the lawn. He didn’t like winter however. Winter was always rough against his bark as the bitter winds sliced into him. And harsh winter winds always brought breakage, as well as ice did. He preferred the warm mild winds of late spring that brought showers and buds on his boughs.

That was a while ago. Lately he’s been standing or looming over the house. He was progressively getting ill with a blight that had spread up to the north. Every year it encroached his land and he escaped it barely. Until this year, there were no buds or leaves. People would walk by this past summer and became depressed at the lack of green and kick his trunk. He wept but no one could hear him.

The owner of the house watched his death slowly and as the first frost came across the lawn he knew what had to be done. He went out back and oiled up his chainsaw. He ran his fingers slowly against the teeth, ensuring their precision, and walked out front to the tall and once proud oak. Bough by bough they fell until the tree was limbless. The owner never heard his screams.

1 prayer | 02:54 PM

Autumn in New

I love pumpkin seeds. I love pumpkins. I was like a kid again when I walked into the market last Sunday and saw that they were stocked with the big loveable symbols of fall. I danced up and down with a high-pitched voice yelling “PUMPKINS”. Then over the weekend I went to the Mart of Wal and saw lined up in a row numerous pumpkins waiting to be sold to a family so they could spend a moment of time cutting and decorating.

I may be a weird person, people would describe me as Goth even when clad in red and brown, but simple things bring much joy into my life: my cat, my roommates, my family, the sound of a British man, Harry Potter, and the living embodiment of Halloween. I’m not a Pagan, although I lean towards being one, and I probably would be one if I knew some Pagans around me that could give me the theology of such or maybe even a good book to read.

I have very few memories from my childhood but for the most part I can remember a lot of fall ones, especially ones of Halloween. I love to decorate my residence for the occasion. I love the smell of crisp cool nights, of the leaves that have fallen on the ground, and the smell of pumpkin guts as I scoop out the insides and I love the smell of pumpkin pie cooking in the oven.

In my car I have a Yankee Candle Car Jar in the scent of MacIntosh. The scent brings me back to times when I would sit at the table with my father while he peeled and cut apples for pies and cakes. I can see him sitting there in his jeans and t-shirt with a smile on his face and a gleam in his eye. We would talk about school, fall, and the holidays until the last apple was finished. To many the simple thought of seeing their father smile seems almost commonplace, but like I’ve written in many posts before, my father is not a well man and for him to smile the occasion is a pretty good one.

So I love pumpkins, I love Halloween, and I love autumn. I love the colors the trees turn, the brilliant hues of red, gold, and orange. I love waking up and going to a football game with a thermos filled with hot chocolate. I love craft fairs and fields of cornhusks. I love New England and all it’s majestic beauty. I don’t think I would trade locations with anyone. New England is too precious to me and I’ve had quite the life living here.

No prayers | 01:13 PM

'ze Friday Five

1. Would you say that you're good at keeping in touch with people?
I'm only good at keeping in touch with those that keep in touch with me. I actually have trends dependant on my mood. When I'm happy all I want to do is go out in the world and chat it up with people. When I'm depressed all I want to do is curl up in my bed and watch movies.

2. Which communication method do you usually prefer/use: e-mail, telephone, snail mail, blog comments, or meeting in person? Why?
Depending on the person I use various methods. I typically call home once a week and talk to mom and dad. Since mom's retirement she messages me everyday on aim, I think that's so cute. I talk to my brother on the phone when I call home but typically it's on aim, the same with sis. My friends I typically talk to them (when not in person) via instant messenger. And those who have chosen to disregard me I only msg them on their birthday. It's not like they remember mine so I consider myself a better person that way =]

3. Do you have an instant messenger program? How many? Why/why not? How often do you use it? Uh yeah. AIM, ICQ, Yahoo messenger. It's cheaper than the phone and instantaneous. The only problem is when you and the person with whom you are talking are trying to help each other out with a problem in excel and words cannot convey ideas and images so properly, sorry Mr. Kris.

4. Do most of your close friends live nearby or far away? Most of my friends live close by 10 feet away from my bed, I think that's pretty damn close. Or 2 blocks. Or a couple of miles or minutes. I do have some friends that live about 200+ miles and although we're separated by a distance we talk every day.

5. Are you an "out of sight, out of mind" person, or do you believe that "distance makes the heart grow fonder"? I'm a "if you don't talk to me bitch, don't expect nice things from me kind of person." And as such, if you want a recipe from me, please instant message me or e-mail me to thank me for giving it to you. Also, let me know how it turned out, I do like to hear how the recipient of your concoction enjoys one of my best dishes. I always thought that distance made the heart grow fonder but when the distance shortened all my heart wanted to do was fondle them.

2 prayers | 02:27 PM

Hands of Fate

I found myself downtown on a crisp autumn day. Having only recently moved to the area, I finally worked up enough nerve to travel outside my neighborhood in quest of the city’s magic. I walked three miles east and found myself in an elder portion of the city. Cobblestone roads and antiquated brick buildings with plate glass windows were in repetition. There were apartments above the various storefronts with balconies protecting the inhabitants with wrought iron fencing.

On the corner of Main and Maple streets was a curious little shop. It was set below the ground so that customers had to descend a set of cracked stone stairs. The sign that hung from one of the awnings claimed to be Madame Xyra’s Center of Spirituality. Intrigued by the mystery of the place, I wandered down the steps and entered the shop.

Immediately I noticed that the air was saturated with cedar wood incense and dust particles danced in the air reflected off of the rays of light pouring through the street-level windows. In the front of the shop, books were piled on old wooden shelves. Various titles claiming how to do something or other: how to get in touch with oneself spiritually; understanding the goddess within; the magic of herbs and so on. This was not your ordinary spiritual store.

A beautiful woman behind the counter watched me as I navigated through the store’s wonders. She came out from behind the counter; her long, flowing salt and pepper hair struck me as she slowly approached. The woman had some air about her, I felt completely relaxed in her presence. “Would you like me to tell you your future,” she asked pointing to a sitting area.

Following her over to the area she had brought my attention to, I sat down on one of the soft, enticing floor cushions. Most of the décor had a celestial theme, blue and silver pillows with suns, moons, and stars. There were various charts on the walls featuring constellations, zodiac symbols, and lunar phases.

She grabbed both my hands and turned them over palm facing up. After some serious contemplation on her part and numerous line tracings on my hands she sighed. “I am afraid that the future for you is not promising.” Her dark black eyes softened with the news, almost pitying me. “Your love line tells me that you have had many troubles in the past and the future holds no change. If it’s companionship you are looking for, save a cat from a shelter. She will remain true to you and never cheat or leave you.”

I nodded; this certainly wasn’t the type of future I had expected. She began tracing the head line, “interesting, this line tells me that you are to be of inferior intelligence and creativity.” She broke her concentration and looked up at me, “however my heart knows better and these lines on your hand are not indicative of your true self. In all my years of foretelling the past and the future I have only encountered a handful of individuals such as you. I cannot go on further for I know not what the future holds in your hands.” She folded her hands around mine and closed her eyes. I stared at her for what seemed like eternity when she opened her eyes again and released her grip on me. “You will be fine, go now and forget these troubles,” she spoke almost inaudibly.

I couldn’t just forget my troubles in Madame Xyra’s though. I knew that I could not bear going throughout my life having my hands lie to all those who were able to read between the lines. It would certainly be a mystery to have people think of me one way and have the truth completely hidden from them. But it’s the principle of the matter and to me baring scars is better than bearing lies.

And in the moments that followed I completely erased any spiritual existence from my hands. Luckily pool chemicals are available over the counter and quite potent. The pain from the muriatic acid was so excruciating that I had passed out moments after placing my hands in the stopped up sink. When I awoke the following morning, my hands had been treated and wrapped in gauze.

4 prayers | 02:58 PM

...then again

maybe some of you have watched the WB for not it's new show Family Affair, but for the 2 minute 17-second trailer for Chamber of Secrets.

Of course now it's available from harrypotter.com and I highly recommend viewing the trailer. Some people may not be impressed with the whole Harry Potter story, books, merchandise but the movie looks to be extremely pretty with a good portion of the effect thanks to the wizards of computer graphics. I'm just hoping that the trailer does not forbode the pitiful lack of Snape. I mean, how else am I supposed to get off, actually download real porn?

This weekend's creative writing task is to eavesdrop conversations by person unknown to myself. I guess dinner this evening would be a good chance to record some odd conversations. If oddity is what I am looking for, surely then the place to go would be Denny's at three in the morning; or even to my fraternity's post-initiation party this evening. I also have to work out a short story based around the topic of hands. At first that task seemed dauntingly pedestrian, but given a chance of fucked up thoughts I believe I have a plot lurking around in the surreal portion of my brain.

My first program for C is finished, compiled and whatnot. I thoroughly enjoy my classes, being not the largest of persons in them. I have helped two females in my programming class and it only reminds me of when I was first into my class being completely clueless and not understanding a bloody word of my TA. That fucker still pisses me off today.

As for the oh, 26 days until my 25th. I think I have discovered what topping I shall like on my birthday cake. Being all in jest and whatnot, I would like Snape on my cake. The technology Price Chopper has today, just being able to scan and print out on ricepaper. That would be most wonderful. Or maybe just a few Harry Potter items, such as the Nimbus 2000 ;)

No prayers | 06:46 PM

.:..::..:..::..:..::..:..::..:.

Due to a busy schedule, I haven’t been able to devote some time to this here crap. I guess if I were to maintain a semi regular schedule, I wouldn’t have tons of things to talk about. Alas, the demands of my life are too great and I am just a person trying to make it through the hell I am residing in.

My mother’s retirement party went off without a hitch. My paranoid sister thought that my mother knew what was going on and on several different occasions almost told her enough with the charade that if she knows what’s going on then she should just let us know. Surprised she was when she opened the door to the house. She was brought to tears when she opened her gift, a ticket to Ireland.

I’m going to Ireland! My mother, sister, and myself are spending two glorious weeks on the emerald isle. I plan on drinking at every pub I can and purchasing all the magnets from the various counties. I can’t even wait to taste the unadulterated Guinness, not some imported crap brewed out of Stamford, Connecticut.

The next weekend brought the wedding. Set in beautiful Grantville, Pennsylvania. It was absolutely fantastic and no one could have asked for a better day. She was absolutely beautiful and he was the same, except insert masculine adjective.

The weekend did not start off very auspiciously. Avis fucked me over with their under 25 fee. I somehow thought that I saw on their website that the fee was only $20/day for being under 25. It turned out when we were in the airport picking up the rental car that it was $110/day. So instead of costing something like $250, it would have broke the bank at $480. I was in complete hysterics, but luckily I had covzilla trying to calm my nerves. We ended up with a brand new Ford Taurus that was all decked out. That puppy’s trunk could fit several dead bodies. Which reminds me, if ever going into the waste management business, this is the car to have.

That brings us up to this week. Cov’s birthday was yesterday. I bought him a couple of presents, a wallet, a candle, and a plush C’thulhu. He knew somehow that I got him C’thulhu but he was very happy nonetheless.

Classes are going. Going very slowly. Wednesday I have Creative Writing, Short Fiction and it seems as though we’ll be staying until the last possible moment, 9pm. This did not excite me when I wanted to just go home and celebrate cov’s birthday. Tonight’s programming in C whoopee! I won’t be getting out until 10 tonight… joy!

I’m tired, my brain’s fried, and I’m PMSing. Oh how I’m looking forward to spending the weekend all doped up on Tylenol.

No prayers | 01:02 PM

Tubers from Hell.

Dizzying frustration takes a hold of me as I wander aimlessly through my apartment. I pace the floors back and forth disconnected from my reality as I search for something about which I have forgotten. In and out of the rooms I flow, staring up towards the ceiling and looking below. Rage envelops me as I begin the physical manifestation of the emotion. Objects both fragile and plush are strewn about the various spaces I occupy.

Exhausted from the release of energy, I collapse to the floor in a flustered state panting like an animal. Simultaneously thinking and crying, I continue to search for resolution. Shadows dance across the floor from the passing clouds and it’s only after trailing them do I realize cause for such a horrid display.

After a couple of moments, I collect myself and meander off towards the kitchen. I rummage through various cabinets searching for something palatable. Sweet, sour, salty, or piquant these are the issues at hand. The battle ensues tongue versus stomach or is it really brain versus stomach? If I were an animal would it not matter what touched my tongue or entered my stomach? Finding myself at the pantry, a wave of hopelessness came over me. I open the door and scream. There staring right back at me was the eyes of a single potato.

No prayers | 04:29 PM