I am in need of getting my thoughts out
It's that kind of feeling where I want so badly just to talk to someone but it's too much to say, it is not fair to burden anyone with all of this chaos in my head. I'm in a very, very, very, very, VERY BAD MOOD. You could say "dark" but that's being way too cheerful.
Having said that, I KNOW some of you would listen and be there for me, but, I really mean it when I say it's not fair to you. And, some things.. they are too difficult to say one on one with people. Sometimes, I say things, and there is awkward silence. I immediately feel judged, scrutinized.. worried about. Is she okay?
My dad is in the hospital. He will be okay, my mom says. But it is very stressful and I am not dealing well. My mom asked me not to come and visit because, "he will be just fine, no need to worry." She said it in this way like, "We don't need you here." Sometimes she is rather blunt. Also, I am having personal issues in ways I actually won't discuss here.
I feel like lying on the floor and drinking bath salts for breakfast.
Don't worry. I don't use bath salts nor do I eat things that would taste like bath salts. I won't even eat broccoli.
SO .. anyway..
By the way, just because I am depressed it doesn't mean I can throw all caution to the wind and poorly format this shit. But I am not taking the time to center titles because ..screw it. This is my second post in 24 hours, which means it barely gets noticed anyway. But, still.. I do have certain standards to uphold.
So, headers and many paragraphs.
I learned in a journalism class once, you have to break up large amounts of text into smaller ones, otherwise you lose most of your readers. Makes sense when you think about it. I was just talking about this recently.
This isn't my only blog, you know? Here's one. I've been painting angels for over a decade. Saying dumb things, writing morbid poetry and singing songs for anyone who wants to listen. My MySpace was a breeding ground for flowers of mental confusion and unstable dreams.
I had a "selfie" thing going that I called. "The Narcci Project".. they were not called "selfies" then because it wasn't a thing until Facebook. Facebook doomed the art of creative self-portraiture. Just my opinion. I have spoken about this before here but I don't care to repeat myself because it's something about which I feel very strongly.
Even silly little things like this. I don't call this a "selfie." Looking back on that day, it was a great one. I was wearing my wedding dress because Emma asked me to put it on. She tried it on too. On me it wouldn't even zip up in the back because I had gained weight since 2000. Anyone who can still fit into their wedding dress 5 or 6 years later, I kind of hate you a little bit. Okay, A LOT. You are breaking laws of nature and womanhood, dammit.
Whatever. I say "selfie" now. I have been corrupted by a tasteless society. I say that like I think I'm better than everyone else. I'm not. I am but a tadpole in the realm of sanity and decency. But I can take a self portrait. And I can come up with better labels than "selfie" or at least not change the word that had been used for millions of years.
This one is my favorite. I use it a lot. I think I used it just last week for something. There is a lighthouse touching my face, though. Should I ever try to re-create it, I will stand to the left a bit.
Topic Shift
I used to do open mic nights at The Bluebird Cafe. It is world famous, by the way. Taylor Swift used to play there. Garth Brooks was discovered there doing an open mic himself. I miss it. But I don't want to do that again. It's too much work, and I don't have time for too much work.
Here's proof of my existence there. That's me. I centered it. I have a sickness, I guess. Uncentered pictures piss me off. I can't help it.
Anyway.. I know it doesn't look like me, but that is because I have gotten old and more wrinkled and fatter. If I have to deal with that reality, so do you. You've seen my open mics. You saw my makeup tutorial. Did you? Maybe I'll re-post it.
You saw me sing that chicken attack song for Clayboyn. I will not tag him since I am polite that way. I look like crap in that video. Who cares. not me. i am throwing out a total disregard for punctuation in this paragraph now. look. i am doing it. la la la la.
Okay. I'm done. Have a great day whatever time it is in your life. Maybe today is your last day on Earth. I hope you are spending it wisely. I am not. I'm being rather pathetic.
I am sitting here talking to strangers on the internet and feeling depressed that I have to go back to work next week and worrying about my dad so much that my hands are shaking. I've had so many typos. I have corrected all of them I think. You're welcome.
Know what I feel like? I feel somewhat akin to one of those rednecks you see on TV (or just next door to me, legit for real) who throw tables across the room and slam beer bottles into the walls and have no respect for vacuum cleaners or toilet seats. Those guys who beat their wives and never get in trouble for it. Because LIFE.
I said I was finished writing 3 paragraphs ago. I am an unintentional liar. Or maybe I just can't commit to ending things.
ENDING A THING NOW.
© 2019- ME.
All these pictures are mine and if you don't know me well enough to know I only post my own pictures 99 percent of the time then oh well... I hate having to clarify this at the end of all my crap. I'm going to stop doing it. Come at me.
If you have never known me at all, then.. that is a thing about me. I am a photographer. I have a college degree in it. (Technically, it's Mass Communications with Emphasis in Radio/TV/Photography.. if you look at my resume.)
I only pretend to be a musician. I am a liar by nature. I blame white people.
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