D***… I'm a dork. But hey, I'm the only dork with a secret message posted on BME!! So at least I'm a geeky dork, which I'm not sure is much better heh. I mean it's a secret message. It's so secret, even I don't know what it says!
If I feel I need to apologize, it's for all the wrong reasons. I feel sorry for the fact that I'm fat, that I'm ugly, that my clothes aren't right, that I don't have the perfect smile and that I'm not of a stellar personality. These things I've already known, known for hours, known for days, known for years. Such items are trivial in my mind, things I've gotten used to telling myself, things I've grown accustomed to knowing. The issue is not with myself, I know for myself who I truly am, and that these trivial things, these little insignificant items of my personal being, I can ignore. I can ignore the voice in my head that tells me these negative things, that reminds me every moment I am awake, and floods every moment I am not, that I am not the perfect being I wish to be.
At the same time, I can be torn down so easily. Such a short few seconds, in one normal breath and one single phrase uttered out loud from within another's voice. An outside voice. A real voice, that belongs to a real person. In 3 seconds, 2 words, and 1 single voice, all confidence I posess, any feelings of worth and every ounce that tells the world who I am disapears.
It's never easy trying to take pictures worthy of a “pinup” genre by yourself. It's even harder to be a fair critic and choose pictures you believe make you look good and edit them properly for print. It's d*** f***ing impossible to feel any self-worth at all when your father walks in before you can close PhotoShop, and the only words he utters from his mouth after seeing you frantically try and close the open images of yourself is “Eww… so ugly!”
If only I didn't agree with him. Maybe I could solve this mess all by myself. And stand up for myself. But I don't. And I can't. And I won't.
Warning that this entry makes no sense is placed here.
People honestly need to learn to grow the f*** up. I swear, I may not have matured a lot in the past few months, or the past few years, but even I can tell that there is more than just a marked difference in how I conduct myself today than last year. But communication between those who were past friends and past lovers gets you thinking, especially when you can see them as the people they truly are. The stupid dumb f***s you never should have hung out with to begin with.
This isnt really a reflection on 2003, read through the probably 80-100 most recent diary entries and you can just READ about my 2003 as it happened. But last night I took a peek into what my life was like in 2000-2002. And its funny. There is most definitely a difference in people who have actually matured as people, and those who either wish to stay in their perfect pre-teen worlds or are oblivious to the fact the world does NOT revolve around them.
While trying to not be my own best friend, I do believe I can safely say that I have grown and matured over the past, I do not say this just to prove my net worth, there is more than ample proof, from various diaries to logged conversations and other sustainable evidence. The fact that some people cannot mature past the age of 16, or choose not to, or even go backwards through the evolutionary revolution. I pity them, for those who will be running circles the rest of their lives destined to only live out their lives struggling and never understanding true happiness does not come from anothers suffering.
Perhaps the people of tomorrow, the ones that only live in yesterday, have yet to learn that in order to be true to themselves they must act like themselves, instead of these overly-hyped up cartoon-version that their innermost fears have created. Nothing will be accomplished if they believe in only one set of truth, only one set of logic and discard any that dare question their authority. Pretending to be someone else will not have you accomplish any goals, and only make yourself look to be a right idiot when youre finished.
Sometimes I think Im too smart for my own good, but usually I just realize this is a part of growing up.
| Hi Mister/Miss(invisible) that's visited me 18 times in the past 5 days!! *waves* I sure do hope you're enjoying your visit! |
| In annoying popup news, I've removed 3 forum links, 2 polls, 2 useless links, 3 useless facts listings and compressed to 1 diary entry per page.
My own attempt at living a more minimalistic lifestyle, online at least. |
Maybe I'm making no sense, and maybe I'm just being cranky. Couple hours ago I read this article about this 15 year old who posesses a female body, and a male mind, and knew of this from a very young age while the mom wishes that her child would be forced to wait until a legal age limit (21) before going radical operations. I'm for it, I'm against it, I'm mostly being forced to think from it.
How many things was I doing when I was young, that have lead up to today? Getting my mom to agree to give me blond or red highlights (while I've ALWAYS insisted on blue, hairdresser never let me because it would be too damaging to my hair.) Learning some ancient version of PhotoShop where the project was “modify your own picture” and the first thing I did was add eyebrow and tongue piercings. (Before adding ear and navel piercings to Winnie the Pooh and Tigger!) The drawing on my skin with markers, but never the washable kind. Always the permenant ones that last a few days before finally washing off on their own. Buying fake earrings, buying fake noserings, buying fake liprings, tattoos, stick on ones and lick on ones galore. Even the anger-driven and hate-filled cutting and scratching had a reason and a purpose, a design and a plan.
But now the desire for this has all changed. I see and hear people getting their tattoos and think they're doing it for themselves. I see and hear people getting pierced and think they're doing it for themselves. Only problem comes when they, who are getting pierced and tattooed, think it's some kind of contest, some extremist way of comparing who's got a bigger penis, only now it's who gets the bigger needle shoved into them, or who sits still the longest through painful tattoo sessions.
At this I am disgusted, and see no future for people who can't see past their own body. I may be learning how to become a corporate whore, a slave to the media and part of the driving machine that will eventually kill us all. I accept that. I also know I have a comfortable future in this corporate world, and will never rely on my parents savings, or the government handout, or the generosity of family and friends for me to be able to live my life. Maybe I've simply traded one form of slavery for another, but at least I can accept that.
Aren't I just the cryptic bastard that ruins everyone's holiday cheer? What can I say, I detest the holiday, and yesterday morning/afternoon waking up to find out that my TV and stereo both wouldn't work. Something shorted out the outlets on this side of the house. Blarg. To my internet being on the brink and me being lucky if I could get a proper IP address to the comp. To my mom insisting me buying dinner for my parents. To my dad making fun of my outfit the entire time I was there, and listening to my dad yell at my mom for driving the leased car to the Casino for two concerts, to this morning's yelling at my mom for going to Canadian Tire for a new battary after it died while he was away instead of somewhere else.
Although I have a renewed sense of wanting to learn how to pierce, since last night my dad put the idea into my head that there's a huge demand for tattoo artists and piercers in China, yet no one there really knows how to do it. Only thing is I'd need to learn Manderin, and know it fluently if I were to survive there. Meh, hire a University of Beijing English Major and I'd be set! Hmm…. me working as a piercer in China. Or Hong Kong. Now THATS an idea!
Although my mom wants to take me to Mexico for my reading week. Blah. I don't know yet, I don't wanna go with my mother is the thing. And I was really hoping to hang out at Foxx's for the week. I'm sure I will be able to find a weekend somewhere one day. I usually have weekends to myself. Thus first-step in learning how to pierce. How to properly sweep/mop the place 
On the other hand, the X-mas eve dinner at Phil & Badur's was uberfun, watching Badur attempt to eat an entire box of Turtles, then cram brownies covered in icecream down our throats Hanging out & talking to everyone about the problems of men and their sexual drives and to a lesser extent “the one that got away.” I also forgot everyone's presents at home, and unloaded a dozen cans of icedtea for them to consume. Oh, and Phil explained to me the oddity that is my camera, and that the funny looking things that happen are not it's fault, but the camera operator's fault, usually, the guy who was trying to do his own friendster pictures! Oh, the like 6 pictures I took will be up shortly.
F*** I talk a lot.
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