"There's a sword in your side, that you'll ignore until blood shows"

[βĩο₱Ħعℓĩᶏ]

"There's a sword in your side,
That you'll ignore until blood shows,
And later on, when it's gone,
When something's wrong,
The violence grows and it's designed,
To spy and try to poke your eyes,
While laying low."

What is it about the Blankityblank's and being picky and particular? What is it, what is it what is it?

"I don't eat fat. I just don't do it."
"Dad, you DO realize that all that sparkling glistening spheres are fat, right?"
"Well, yeah! But that's not on the beef!"
"So...are you just not going to eat it?"
"Well... I just got to take it off the meat."
"I think, that may be... just what other people do. Why even mention, then?"
"Uh... uh... I don't know! It's... it's... not right."
"So, what is it about the blankityblank's and food or... or anything at all? Ya, know Lynne, grandma..."
"Oh god! Lynne! I remember that one time the cone she got wasn't swirled in a spiral!!!!"


Oh goodness, wish others who knew me also knew my family -- maybe it would give them context to see that the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree? They go "LOOK! AN APPLE!!!" and observe it as an anomaly that fell directly from the sky...


Few hours later... the sister... talking with...

about... all matters of things...


We identify on the filters of anxiety and depression...


Why is it that as early as we BOTH remember having to be obsessively early, have certain things a certain way before ANYTHING ELSE (more important) could get done??? All these small particular, peculiar things... All the blankityblanks and my two sisters share these traits.

The feeling of pointlessness. Having any status, any matter of things, any matter of luck, any matter of fortune, any matter of achievement or success... yields only a momentary sense of feeling proud. Then follows bitterness and anger for the mood doesn't change at whim like that, the filter of nothingness, nit-picky-analytical-left-brained-blahness spews its nasty smelling and ugly-looking fluid alllll over anything good.


Depending on the day, my fair, pink, sensitive skinned, green-eyed redheaded sister comments, matter of fact, "Some days, I know that if I saw a melanoma on me, I won't do anything about it. I drive home, and I don't wish it, but sometimes I think that if I am in a car accident, I know I won't try to escape if I can. Almost like I'll feel grateful if I go..."

She continues... "I can't tell anyone this because I make more money than most people on earth. It's a fact. I am more educated than most people on this earth. It's a fact. I've traveled to more places (30 countries and counting, long stays (6 mo-8 mo) to short stays (1 mo - 2 days)) than most people on earth. I am a doctor in an elitist field. If I tell anyone that I feel like this, they will look at me as ungrateful, selfish, greedy..."





"When you need to shout
No-one's ever listening
When you need to shout
No-one's ever listening"

Genetics! Genetics!

"Genetics," she says, "I can't believe how different I thought you and JS (other sister) were from me. I think that if our peculiarities were behavioral, instilled by mom or dad, that when we were out on our own that we would find our own. We have all found our own, but those traits run through our blood."

Noises, man..


Frick.


Timber and quality matter so much. I haven't heard an icecream truck for awhile, but knock on wood right now, cuz I bet I will hear one tomorrow now that I mentioned it today.


Airports and restaurants.


Beeps, buzzes, voices soft and loud, engines and mufflers, nagging... nagging... nagging....


Say what? Excuse me??? What??? Mouth and lips are moving, words are being heard... except... "WHAT!????"




Want to see Memento again, definitely feel like I should get a few reminders tattooed to my body so I can't forget the important things that are too easy to lose sight of when

the beast of anxiety grips me.



Crap man, it's like I am under debris of a building after an earthquake. I can somewhat move, but if I do, I get stabbed the wrong way and end up effing myself so I can't move enough to breath. So... the option is to sit. Sit through it. Hopefully an echo of a scream won't jar the rubble too much.


"Don't go dragging your name,
Through the mud and the rain,
When it dries I know some dust that wants to get in your eyes.

Put a stethoscope on,
You'll notice the beat is gone,
All that's left is hesitations from your previous life."



oh, ambivalence.


Pass, pass...


Pass like my eyes were once brown but are definitely hazel, or like blonde hair turning to red turning to brown and then to reddish honey...

[salleh]

this is me with my mouth hanging open ......speechless......( quite an unusual occurance for me )


well, at least you're having an interesting time ? are you in LA as we spoke of earlier? ...how long ? ....nosy ain't I ?


are you ok though ? ....