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WARNING: This post for MATURE audiences

Posted in Crazy Wisdom on Saturday, September 28, 2002 at 6:11 pm by flerly.

The following post is rated “R” by the Motion Picture Industry of America..

R is for Rant.

Here goes…

Every finger in the room is pointing at me
I wanna spit in their faces then I get afraid of what that could bring
I got a bowling ball in my stomach, I got a desert in my mouth
Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now

I’ve been looking for a savior in these dirty streets,
Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets,
I’ve been raising up my hands drive another nail in
Just what God needs, one more victim.

Why do we, Crucify ourselves, every day,
I crucify myself, nothing I do is good enough for you,
Crucify myself every day and my heart is sick of being in chains.

  • I am less than 30 days from 31 years old.
  • I have a love/hate relationship with a job that is in a field I enjoy, that
    gives me satisfaction, and helps me define myself in a way I want to be defined.
  • I have a loving relationship with a man that I finally want to spend the
    rest of my life with.
  • I have spent a lot of time with men I never wanted to spend my life with,
    and am glad I never gave in to my father’s wishes to marry any of them.
  • I have no desire to ever have a baby, though sometimes I think there are
    some moments of motherhood that I would enjoy.
  • I think of my own mother every day, and worry, and wish a million times
    a day that she lived next door so she could come over for dinner and just
  • I regret that because she is so far away, I find it hard to keep her interested
    in my life.
  • I am hurt that though I know she loves and misses me, that she won’t visit.
  • I loathe long interstate drives so much I can actually make myself sick
    thinking about it, no matter the destination.
  • I want to invest in the scientists who are trying to make Star Trek teleporters
    a reality.
  • I often feel pulled in so many directions I forget what day of the week
    it is, or what I had for lunch, or what you just might have said to me.
  • If I don’t get any Saturday or Sunday time to myself before I have
    to go back to work, I can get so stressed I want to explode.
  • I love having grown up in Bluff City to two loving parents who knew what
    "til death do them part" meant.
  • I used to dream as a teenager about how I would live in my parents house
  • I still hear echoes in my memory of my father’s regular good-bye phrase after
    I moved out, Just tell me when to bring the uhaul to take you home
  • I sometimes think my mother isn’t selling the house and moving on because
    she thinks that if she doesn’t live there, then there’s no chance I’ll ever
    move home with her.
  • I really miss her lemon chicken, but I’ll never be moving back to Bluff
  • I would still love to live with my mother, so long as she moved to me instead
    of vice versa.
  • I often think she should move to Alabama with my sister, but I don’t know
    how to convince her.
  • The only thing worth going to Alabama for is the family. The restaurants
    and shopping stink.
  • When I moved to Chattanooga at 17, I thought it was the big city, and loved
  • At 30 I think of Chattanooga as the best small town I ever lived in, and
    sometimes dream of going back.
  • I think I may be happier living in Atlanta than I have been in a very long
  • I have more close friends now than I can ever remember having.
  • I often wish my niece lived here, too.
  • I think of her almost every day, and smile just to see her sign on MSN every
    day or so, even if we don’t make time to chat.
  • I think she and my mother are the closest links to my family I have, and
    that doesn’t make me happy.
  • I can hardly go out shopping without spotting something I think my sister
    needs for her house.
  • I wish my sister’s house was down the street instead of down the interstate,
    across the stateline, and almost to the next stateline…
  • I admit to having always been jealous of my brothers/sister’s relationships
    because they grew up together and I came along so much later.
  • I am thankful for my niece who feels more like a sister, but somehow sad
    for the sister I’m not sure how to talk to no matter how much I love her.
  • I can only hope these distant family members know I love them, even though
    I’m too busy to visit.
  • Except for the one brother I’ve written off. I hope he knows what a prick
    I think he is.
  • I’m glad he’s blocked my email and AIM name so I can’t tell him what a prick
    he is while I’m sitting here thinking about it, because I think it would
    displease my mother to hear about it.
  • I’m glad I have this journal to write/rant/rave/vent and generally express
    the random things that cross my mind, because I feel so much healthier with
    this off my chest.
  • I wonder if my family knows I used do all sorts of terrible things to try
    to deal with stress before I realized how cathartic writing down these things
  • I think my mom might know.
  • I used to keep a paper journal of every bad thing that happened to me,
    so I would remember and learn from my mistakes.
  • I picked up the paper journal once and reread it and cried nearly all night at
    all the depressing things that I had remembered and tried to remember some
    good things to write down.
  • I couldn’t.
  • I haven’t written in the paper journal since I met James, even though I think
    Knoxville will always bring to mind some of the worse memories of my
  • I have made myself finally remember the good with the bad.
  • Since , my roommate, and one of my very best girl friends,
    introduced me to Livejournal, remembering the good with the bad has been so
    very much easier.
  • I never imagine anyone not on my friends list reading my journal, but as
    more people comment or ask to add me to their friends list, I realize it and
    am amazed.
  • I don’t want to end this on a sour note, but I am really irritated and a
    lot of this entry is actually making me cry.
  • I can only assume people who wish to read my journal can glean the context
    of my mood or the situation or that it might be a post in frustration and
    take my words for what they are… simply my words.
  • My words don’t change the world, they aren’t a matter of life and death,
    and most times they are so vague as to make real sense only to me.
  • Of the 13 people on my friends list today, I know or have known 9 of them personally, and have met in person 2 more.
  • I don’t publish the existence of this journal actively, and it is certainly not broadcast as if it were the nightly news.
  • Reading my journal regularly may give a person a hint about me and my life, but don’t read it and think you know me.

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