Saturday, September 18, 2004

Frank, please don't be depressed. You should find your power animal. It'll make you happier. Make sure to enjoy your pet rats, and you have to tell them to be nice to your power animal.

Friday, September 17, 2004

Ah... Tool. "Schism."

There's not much going on in the world of Liz. Life is boring...mundane. Mundane, mundane, mundane. I think I like it that way, but there are somethings that need to be worked out in the meantime. Just some kinks here and there regarding my daily life. I need to express more. *laugh* Most people that know me say I express too much.
Frank, please don't be depressed. You should find your power animal. It'll make you happier. Make sure to enjoy your pet rats, and you have to tell them to be nice to your power animal.

Thursday, September 16, 2004

Have you ever been in a gas station bathroom, and they have the condom vending machines? I saw that earlier, like I do, every time, and I was just kinda stunned. It's like a mini-sex shop in the bathroom. Very strange. I have always wondered why buy condoms out of one of those little things. How sketchy is that?

I had a thought earlier. Yes, me, blonde, spacey, mundane SquishedLizard actually had a thought. Sadly, it escaped before I could net it.

I'm waiting for the opportunity, the moment...When I find what I am searching for, understanding, contentness, I don't know what to do. How to act. How to feel. Yet I rejoyce when I lose it; when I lose everything.

Currently Playing: Tidal
- Criminal
The Poem Of The Night

Your presence still lingers
Driving me out of my mind
Screaming, twisted, weeping
While I fight away my cold tears
I have tried so hard to tell
Myself you're already gone;
Never here
Your bright eyes pull me in
And I crush away all of my fears

A friend just got Xanga-ized! Go check him out.

He has been in need of an outlet; I hope this shall provide him with one. Be careful though! --He'll collect chunks of your soul if you let him.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

I'm goin' under
I'm sufficating
I'm drowning but I'm holding on
What keeps me breathing
Don't have an answer
I'm drowning but I won't let go
~Stone Temple Pilots

I am lost, as always, yet strangly content. I'm happy, and peaceful. As peaceful as I ever become. It started a while ago, I guess. My searching. When I started searching, and when I became obsessed with searching. I discovered a part of my self. I thought I was losing myself, but in all actuality, I am losing the sense of self that I once had. Not who I really am. I can never lose that. I can never walk away, as much as I want to, and as much as I long to, I can never go away. There is something keeping me in my place; something holding me here. Something I can't see, but only feel. I can feel this presence looming over me every waking moment, and at night, I will sometimes snap awake and feel it above me, watching, waiting. Yet nothing happens. No pain.

I have felt myself searching, longing passionately, wandering aimlessly through this abyss of perambulations. I hope, and pray for some contentness, serenity, and peace of mind. I am constantly searching for the path through the forest, the light in the absence of none. I am utterly, and completely lonely. I find myself searching for the void, a way to fill the gap, a way to fullfill me, a way to die, a way to crawl and release the strands, the straps, the content manifest that is holding me here.

It washes up over me, this feeling does. It smothers me, and releases pressure, and opens my doors, and valves the way nothing else ever shall. I find myself searching for answers, compassion, and an understanding soul. While I feel this is what I need to be doing, I find myself rejoycing when that person, when that feeling, when the ultimate understanding, doesn't come. Then every once in a while, I'll get the happiness. I'll get the serenity. My passions will come pouring out of me, splashing on soft shoulders, and a fiery heart. It will leave me, wandering, and wondering, if I am just contentness manifested. I long to be your conteness manifested.

I surrendered myself a long time ago. I let myself go. I let myself wander, and fall, and crash. I let myself be pulled towards the edge of eternity, towards the edge of perfectionless apathy and lucid roses. I disowned myself. Gave it up. I gave myself up. I let the clouds deliver me from evil, deliver me from serenity; deliver me in a bundle of rain, only to fall, bare, bound, hopeless, on the ground surrounded by forgotten serenity... I surrendered, the way I do so well. I let it go, the way I fall, and weep, and whisper noislessly. It came to me.

Currently Playing: Great - In The Mood

Monday, September 13, 2004

I'm at Halloween Costume sites....guess what I found:

"New for 2004: ARAB HEAD PIECE DELUXE! Is your friend having costume problems? Buy now for the low price of $9.99, and get a complementary GEORGE W BUSH MASK! The two of you can go trick-or-treating in style!"

I love it. It's brilliant. It made me laugh. He he.
The computer is sitting in the dining room area, off to the left. It is a big room, so a chinese screen has been set up as a divider. The paper on the screen is soft, and thin, but you can tell by the same token that it is strong. The over head light from the fan hits the opposit mirror ever-so-gently and reflects off of the screen making the shadows of the paper stronger, and darker, and making the paper itself seem almost omniscent. It reaches up, higher than I am tall, and the oak wood of the frame clashes softly, yet abruptly against the textured ceiling. The ceiling has patterns in it, strange patterns, that change depending on your angle. I tilt my head all the way back in the computer chair, and watch the fan blades spin 'round & 'round, and then I focus my eyes on the patterns in the ceiling, and they change, and move, and grow as if they are the floor in the bar in Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas. I spend a great deal of my time looking at the ceiling. This ceiling, the ceiling in my room, and the ceiling in whatever coffee shop I am spending the hour filling my books with my mindless perambulations.

Don't want your hand this time
I'll save myself
Maybe I'll wake up for once
Not tormented daily
Defeated By You
Just when I think I hit the bottom
I'm dying again

"What is your obsession with outlets? Your obsessed with outlets. Why?" If I don't express, I feel like I am going to implode. I get suicidal if I don't express. "You're nuts" he tells me. Yeah, I'm nuts. I don't expect anybody to understand. I don't expect anybody to care. Nobody is supposed to care about my blog, and care about my writings. Just me. I'm not doing them for anybody else. I do it because I feel compelled. It's a feeling deep inside me. If that makes any sense...