Don’t worry, this’ll all be interesting when I’m dead.

Forget any other pet peeve I’ve EVER mentioned. God dammit.

People who are too afraid to be honest with themselves and others piss me off to no end. Damn, I feel like ripping every single hair out of my head over this! If you don’t want to talk to someone, then tell them that. It’s absurd to ignore the person (who doesn’t know you don’t want to talk to them) until they go away. If it’s me, it only starts to enrage me because how the fuck am I supposed to know what you want?

If I write you… be it an email or an instant message… fucking respond. Be HONEST for a change and say “y’know, I just have no interest in talking to you anymore. Sorry.” I can’t tell you how many times people have done this to me without warning. And currently, because I’m trying to meet new people, there’s a list of about 5 people who have done this in the past 3 weeks to me — and the whole process of dishonesty begins to get real old real fast when you witness it so often. I think people generally appreciate honesty. I know I do. That’s why you can bet I’m gonna be honest with you all. I deserve that in return. Is that really too much to ask?

I like to re-post this once a year or so. It was written by an old blogger named Sarah (a.k.a. Timtom). She was a lesbian from the UK and also one of the most brilliant women I’ve ever known. I wish I could get in touch with her again…

“Maybe these aren’t the shit times, maybe it’ll always be like this.

Probably not for you. You usually get what you want.

I remember though, my A level teacher was always talking

about Deferred Gratification. How us 6th formers were

doing the right thing, and we’d get our rewards later,

and they’d be better for it. Then, they said the same

thing at university. I feel like I should be sending off for

my gratification now.

Maybe it’ll be like when I applied for a provisional driving

license last month. They wrote back saying, ‘but you’re

already allowed to drive until 2047 Sarah.’ And I’d thrown

out the last one assuming it had run out. Maybe it’ll be

like that. They’ll say, you’ve already got your gratification Sarah.

This is how much you get.”

Oh this is just TOO good! Thanks to Dan for bringing it to my attention.

Know what else is good? The post below. Yup.

Go on, read it.

Kookooba is a land far away from here. Far away from the perils of hate, love, and war. The landscape shows many moons… or maybe they were suns. Roads winding up, down, and over themselves, suspended in mid-air, not leading to anywhere in particular. Little, green, naked beings lounging around on the narrow roadways, free of cares and inhibitions. The trees in Kookooba were tall and thin like the stem of a tulip. Each had one or two large leaves that hung flaccid over the roads, giving shade to the comfortable skin of the Kookooba people.

This is where we all should be.

But Kookooba doesn’t exist anymore. It ended some time ago, along with my father’s drug use. This was his land and he painted pictures of it all the time. You might think he had nothing else to draw. You can still find some scenery hanging randomly on walls in his house or covered in dust up in the attic.

As a child, I saved a homemade birthday card he made me. I think I was turning 8. He drew the roadways of Kookooba to spell out my name “Coz” and I thought it was wonderful. I thought my dad was a great artist when I was a kid. I thought he was a famous artist. Kookooba was something I figured everyone knew about… and he put MY name in a picture. How privileged was I to have that! How privileged I was to have him as my dad!

I saved it, tucked away in a drawer for years and years.

A love letter or two (or 50) from my first girlfriend, Stacey, were saved for years.

A photo of Joyce and me at our big 6 month anniversary dinner,

An old personal phone book,

A necklace,

A rock that I scratched my name into, claiming I found it that way (hey, I was 6 years old!),

A mix tape,

A nickel,

…all saved. For what?

These are things that have sentimental value. At least, they should. Then one day you get to a point where, although they are just as familiar as they were before, they have no use anymore. They’re just taking up space and what could you possibly need them for, anyway? Sometimes I don’t think they ever had any real “sentimental value” at all, but I figured they should. So I saved them. I didn’t want to live with the guilt I would feel for tossing such an item. I didn’t want to have to face someone when I told them I threw it out.

Some of these items I still have. Some are gone. More than likely, they’ll all be gone at some point.

New doodle added to the doodle page. I called it “Flower In A Hailstorm” after the Eels song of the same name.

This time, I took it in to Photoshop afterwords just to add the borders.

Quick Link!

The night… so calm and quiet. So white. Snow is on the ground and the wind has died.

My insides are still churning from last night and I feel so restless and tangled.

The contradiction is killing me.

Every wonder you ever thought

can be answered by my tongue,

my fingertips, my wild eyes,

my busted, bleeding heart.

13 was the number that let the water through

and every number after got a little more taboo.

And 10 believed to change my mind

when all it did was fuel the fire.

And 2 and 2 and 2 will come to prove our heart’s desires.

It’s frustration. With everything…. more like every one.

It’s the holidays that set me back and I find myself back-logged. So many things on my to-do list and not enough energy to do it. Because I’m tired. And frustrated. And tired of these bitter cold temperatures but I have another 2 weeks to go through it. I’m tired of the cycles.

But there are always things on the horizon just as there are always things in the background.

Your smiles become wonders of what could be.

But deep inside you knew it.

Wonders become tortures that slowly break you down

But deep inside, you knew it.

I should remind you every rhythm is a pattern

And patterns like to repeat themselves.

Your life shouldn’t be a vicious cycle.

Come and fly with me.

(it was wrong of me to quote a favorite line)

Today I spoke with The One, also known as The Other. Not to be confused with The Third… this is just for me.

And I keep on keepin’ on, while you do your thing in the background.

WHY DO I FEEL LIKE COMPLETE SHIT?!

I should NOT be feeling this depressed so suddenly.

I hate it when I’m misunderstood.