My rainbow hat <3 <3
CHOCOLATE *__*
December 2011
This Christmas has been by far the second or third fully snow-free Christmas I have had. The other one was in 2005 and I think I've had a few in my earlier years but just don't remember. I suppose this is what I'll have to start getting used to, when moving a few hundred kilometers south. The Baltic Sea is so close that there is either a lot of snow, or a lot of rain since the amount of rain remains the same, it just depends on the current temperature whether it is water or snow. Last Christmas was snowy all country round, so was the one before that. I hate having a Gray Christmas like this, takes the feeling of it out of me. But I must say it's been a good one as well. Living with a toddler, the lack of snow only means a different kind of play. I've done a lot of wrestling with my little brother these days. His terrible two's (aka toddler rage) are sometimes in the way, and I have gotten my fair share of bruises and scratches but hey, that's what little brothers are for.
I learn a lot from him, I must say. Children are always so honest and straightforward. I wish I could do that, not hide anything that gets to me. We've been trying to teach my bro that his sometimes quite violent ways of treating me and my younger sister are not good and that he has to apologize each time he does something out of line, or he goes on a cooling-out period on the blue chair by the hall. It might take him tens of minutes before he is able to apologize. It usually goes in the same routine: first he does it (hits me or bites me for example), then I scold him for it, he denies it, I ask him "What have we discussed about this kind of behavior?" and he goes (with a crinkly face, a pout and crunched eyebrows) "We haven't discussed anything!", I tell him yes, we have and explain it all to him again and ask him to apologize because I am hurt. He might deny again or just flat out lie on his back or get all squirmy and say "I am really looosing my neeeerve here!" (It is so damn cute it is so hard not to laugh at him! He's learned that from my sister, she says that when she's upset about him). And that's when the waterworks come in. He gets a choice, apology or blue chair. Usually it is the blue chair or the hall for a while and then when he's gotten some of his rage out I hold him close and ask him if he'd like to apologize. He'll apologize nicely and kiss my cheek.
Apologizing, or admitting you've done something wrong, is never easy. Not even when you're an adult. I feel for my little guy since he's having his first times of realizing he's done something wrong. Must be hard on him. (Or maybe it's the pouting and the puppy eyes that are doing their magic on me...)I love my little baking buddy. He got his very own apron for Christmas so we've been doing lots of cooking and baking together, even though he makes a mess and is mostly in the way. But I know he loves it so much I try not to get too annoyed.
Christmas in my family (especially when I'm over here at my mother's half) is usually very fussy and stressful (on my mother). She always wants everything perfect, the rest of us are going with the flow, filling the kitchen while we do different things for the dinner or the dessert or whatever we've decided to do. I like that. She doesn't. But it's very entertaining! =P
By the way it's Crazed Fan Weekend Hop and Weekend Warrior Hop at the Blog Entourage. So don't forget to go and link up for some new blogging buddies! =)
I did some non-fiction free writing inspired by the prompt I got. So this is no lovely poem or short story. And it might not be excetuted properly. But that's why it's free. This is a little stream of my thoughts. What I know most about Romans is about battle and towns since my Dad was a history geek and I've gotten his geeky genes and spent loads of time watching documentaries and Rome the series and reading books =P So if this sounds rant-y to you, skip it. I just wanted to do something different for a change =)
A House of Cards
Hello and welcome to the Storyteller Linky. I'll be helping my friend Shah out with this linky from now on. You'll see me posting every once in a while, depending on how things turn out. I bring with me the utter coolness of a writing prompt generator I have found. Just press the buttons for a prompt =) Can't wait to see your responses, I am very excited to be working with Shah! --- The damn generator code didn't work. Blah. Here are the prompts for you in any case =)
"Why are you looking at
me like that?" she said.
----
Man strangled with a
turtleneck sweater.
----
Living with a cannibal.
---
The surprising versatility of
apologies.
---
I think I might be turning
into a monster.
---
Trilingual but
deaf.
---
A laborsaving
homicide.
---
Spiderman boxers.
---
Behind the
plexiglass.
---
My day as
toddler.
---
Brown eyes.
Instructions are....
It's the holidays so as a present to you I'll give you freedom to choose what to do with your prompts, flash fiction, poetry, short story, essay, you name it. Keep it under 600 words or so though. If you get inspiration to write a longer work, post the first 600 words or the first part and just let us know where we can all read further =) Hope you have fun! And Merry Christmas ^___^
Hello and Merry Christmas! I thought I would make a post about the little changes I have done and ones that are coming up. First of all, I have made a new About Me section, since the older one was a little out of date. I am also going to make a Portfolio section with just my writing work in it, since I have so much else on my blog and it could get confusing. Also, I am helping my friend Shah out and becoming a co-host of her Storyteller Linky which is every Wednesday. Last but not least (and partly thanks to Shah, haha) I have gotten a nice signature thingy for my blog posts =3
Friendship bracelets
Lady Gaga's tattoos =)
Clearance
He stares down at the white porcelain, the oval fake-wood rimmed bowl slowly swallowing down the crimson-blotched remains of his lunch. His knuckles, white and bony, grip his sides as his head sways where his neck lets him, right, left, way to the back so that his mouth falls open, his hands balled into shaky fists as he breathes in the air petrified with saliva and mixtures of hydrochloric acid and numerous proteins that he cannot name, all parading up his esophagus.
To him it is the mush version of the chicken salad he had had forty-five minutes prior, mixed with the artistic touch of his blood and some acidic agents residing in his tummy. That’s how his mother put it anyway, agents, with guns at the ready and dark sunglasses, cutting down protein and carbohydrate molecules with spurts of red and blue laser.
It’s like Star Wars inside your abdomen, Mitch.
Dragged back into the moment by another fit of gagging he throws his hands to the fat neck of the toilet seat, dragging his cracked nails along the ceramic exterior. He glances at the orange bottle sitting neatly on the windowsill, one lonely pill lying in the powdery bottom, the letter that once was carved into it faded into an anonymous smudge resembling the topside of an H or an R.
A wave of multicolored vomit plunges down into the wet whiteness, splotches of white accompanying the red, a polka-dotted chaos of half-digested meat and vegetables. He pulls his stomach in as though the tensing of muscles would roll the rest of it upstairs. His arms hug his abdomen as he rests his head to the wall, beads of sweat spilling down the sides of his face.
Get your light saber, Mitch. We’re playing Star Wars.
He smiles, wiping at his mouth with his wrist as he curls over the toilet seat again.
-------------
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, R.L.W challenged me with ""You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste the afterlife?" - Modest Mouse
" and I challenged Chaos Mandy with "A man who eats hearts".
" and I challenged Chaos Mandy with "A man who eats hearts".
But the TV is still on...
We breathe heavy
Hands kneading at skin,
Twitch
Light switching colors
Across my belly,
Fingertips scraping the words at my side.
Upside down view
Of the pillows as I make an arc,
Lips dry and open.
We breathe heavy
Hands kneading at skin,
Twitch
Light switching colors
Across her back,
Fingertips scraping the scars at her side.
Intertwined limbs
In the seizing dark,
Smiling lips pressed to my ear,
“I love you.”
Hands kneading at skin,
Twitch
Light switching colors
Across my belly,
Fingertips scraping the words at my side.
Upside down view
Of the pillows as I make an arc,
Lips dry and open.
We breathe heavy
Hands kneading at skin,
Twitch
Light switching colors
Across her back,
Fingertips scraping the scars at her side.
Intertwined limbs
In the seizing dark,
Smiling lips pressed to my ear,
“I love you.”
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Joy
I am a little snowman,
I am a little snowman,
Easy to melt in the warm weather
Fingerprints leave me disrupted, mutated
I am a little snowman,
The white ground is my safety net
Candles suspended in ice bring me to life
I am a little snowman
Rabbits tend to eat my buttons
And birds tend to steal my nose
Yet I find joy
In the fleeting moment
Where I am done,
When little eyes look at me
In complete adoration.
| Disorder | Rating |
| Paranoid Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Schizoid Personality Disorder: | Moderate |
| Schizotypal Personality Disorder: | Moderate |
| Antisocial Personality Disorder: | Moderate |
| Borderline Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Histrionic Personality Disorder: | High |
| Narcissistic Personality Disorder: | Low |
| Avoidant Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Dependent Personality Disorder: | High |
| Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: | High |
-- Take the Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Info -- | |
While I wonder how true that is... it feels kind of scary to me. I wouldn't be getting those results for no reason, wouldn't I? Many of the questions hit really close to home. *sigh* Don't believe stuff on the internet, don't believe stuff on the internet...
I'm no politician or any big-ass rich person with deciding power. I'm nothing like that. I am your patient, your customer, one that you have repeatedly neglected and been seemingly unwilling to take into your care. Do you know what it is like living in a country where bureaucracy makes the world go round? I have been told, in school, to bring a doctor's official (why not ask me to fucking laminate it) note, where it is stated that yes, this girl is a good person/student/individual and not about to kill herself, but no she cannot go by your system unless you want your name on a suicide note, i.e she is sick but we don't know what's wrong with her. So what happens when this girl goes to the doctor? "I'm sorry darling but we can't get you into the system until a month or so. Usual protocol. You're not in so much danger, are you now? We'll get you to a psychologist. In a week. Come back again, sweetie."
The first time this happened, I went home and took a shower. I looked at myself in the mirror afterward, letting the water slide down my skin. And in my head I went: "You want me to be sicker? I'll show you sicker." So the monster in my mind that had a love-hate relationship with the safety pin started using its gravitational forces and, oopsie I cut nice little patterns into my tummy until I felt like passing out. Oopsie daisie and back to the ER. "Yes, darling, we'll take you in."
Second time it wasn't me that was under the radar. My sister had attempted to kill herself, but the ambulance guys didn't think it was an ambulance emergency. "She's barely OD'd and the cut is just a flesh wound". This was happening because she never got the help she needed, because every place was full, because once every two months of nutritional therapy is supposedly enough for her. Thank goodness we got a fireball-like Russian doctor who took her seriously and she got into care.
This time. The third time. Might as well call it number one-hundred-and-three, depending on how you count it. I just turned 18 a few months ago, right? So I need to transfer from the youth psychiatric unit to the adult psychiatric unit. But I got a fall-through with my old doctor so I never got the transfer and went six (or was it eight?) months without much-needed therapy sessions. So now... now, after another glorious relapse slash crazy moment of drinking whiskey and then slashing my thigh open in thirteen lines, I need a fucking transfer that will get into the system in maybe a month, maybe three, maybe four as its soon the holidays. What do I have to do now to get help, try to kill myself? I'm having to drop out of school again because I am burnt out. What people do in two and a half or three years I am going to have to do in five.
I am having to switch schools and towns because I am too fucking paranoid and hurt of teachers who (working for the bureaucratic society) I am not supposed to take into heart but who still break me to pieces by not taking my condition seriously, or taking it too seriously (my teacher told me to go "be sick" and then have a shot at school, preferably one with lower expectations), and not giving me any credit for the hard work I have done while my world is collapsing. Things you, my darling system, could have fixed years and years ago.
15 different therapists later (tried them all out but they were unprofessional bastards, the only good one was in the private practise and we ran out of money) and where am I? What am I?
