1. 3 weeks ago 
   

   I spy a kitty (Taken with instagram)

    
2. 1 month ago 

   I hate Zooey Deschanel, therefore she must be eliminated.

   For some inexplicable reasion, I HATE Zooey Deschanel. Everything about her. Her name makes me twitch. Too many O’s and her last name rhymes with bechamel (sauce). Her dumb bangs look like Samantha the American Girl doll. Those big giant innocent eyes fool no one. Stop dressing like you’re five years old and confusing me to no end with your looking like a low rent Katy Perry-ness. This blog shares my sentiments:

   http://womenfindingmen.com/2011/11/totally-justified-and-completely-rational-reasons-why-i-hate-zooey-deschanel/

   Also, stop getting divorced and making my stupid hipster boyfriend say, “ZOMG Zooey Deschanel is getting a divorce! Now I have a chance <3<3<3!”. No, you don’t sweetheart. She is famous and you have a giant orange beard.

3. 1 month ago 

   So I had a lucid dream last night.

   I was vaguely aware of the concept of lucid dreaming before last night. For the past few years I’ve had random ‘dreams’ every once in awhile that typically begin with the feeling that I’m awake and laying in bed in the room in which I’ve fallen asleep. In the dream I feel as if something is amiss, though I can’t place what. Perhaps I’ve actually fallen asleep with the TV on but in my dream the TV is off or something like that. Then…it’s hard to describe. I begin to feel myself floating upward off my bed. Before last night it was always an incredibly unnatural feeling, the floating. Something that in my dream state I would contribute to something weird, supernatural forces or ghosts or something nightmarish causing me to float above my bed. I could never control the trajectory of my floating and would instinctively become petrified and curl into a ball, wishing it all to be over. I would fight the feeling and often wake (or wake? perhaps I was still dreaming) in a sleep paralysis state.

   Last night was different though. Having read a bit about lucid dreaming off and on in the past few months, when I felt the familiar floating, I recognized that I was in a dream and that this wasn’t real…and that it wasn’t scary, and I may have some influence or control as to how the rest of it played out. I made a conscious decision to go with the flow. To relax, realize I was dreaming, and just give in to the feeling. So I moved myself from curled up in the fetal position floating somewhere around the ceiling of my sister and brother in law’s apartment to letting myself uncurl and relax, and realizing that because I was in a dream, I could float or fly through the ceiling - to wherever I wanted to go. I felt myself ascend through the ceiling of the ground floor and instantly I was in another universe. I felt myself flying through space. I kept closing my eyes because I was still scared. I forced myself to realize that this was still a dream and I was in no danger.

   At that point, I decided I wanted to be somewhere on earth. I immediately found myself in some sort of thing that I can only describe as a small amphitheater. I remember feeling like my movements were so slow. I could control where I walked and what I did, but I felt so incredibly sluggish (like ‘dream running’ I know y’all have had…trying to get away from something but you feel like you’re stuck in quicksand). There were a bunch of dogs surrounding me. I realized that there was a small army of tiny dogs who were my allies against a few medium sized dogs who really weren’t all that scary. If this had been a regular dream, it probably would’ve been a nightmare, but I remember thinking to myself that we were dreaming and so nothing could hurt me. Plus I had like 12 little poodles and yorkies defending my honor against the other ones. These little pups were my guides and stayed by my side as I slowly moved along, climbing out of the amphitheater area.

   I was vaguely aware of other people around me, but didn’t really care to interact with them - I was scared of speaking to another human in my dream. I didn’t want to activate something scary since this has never really happened before in my subconscious dream states. I climbed to the street level and again reminded myself that I’m in a dream, so I better make the most of it. I saw rocks around me, to the rear of the amphitheater, and the sky was an odd shade of pink purple. Not regular sunset pink/purple but something surreal that can only exist in the imagination. I wanted to see if I could control the landscape, so I imagined that I wanted to see a particularly beautiful/surreal landscape before I woke up.

   I tried to concentrate and mountain formations began jutting up around the amphitheater, hundreds of feet above where I stood. the rocks took on odd shapes and were colored purple with pink accents. I tried to climb up some rocks, but even though they were average in size, and I could’ve scaled them easily in reality…my dream state was preventing me from moving any quicker than a slug and I found the movements draining and painfully slow. I began to get more paranoid about the bystanders in my dream and decided that I wanted this dream to end before things went awry and I ended up with a bad experience, so I made a point to look around and absorb and memorize everything that I’d seen. I then made the conscious decision that the dream was over, and that I would wake up. The next thing I knew, my eyes sprung open and a grin spread across my face. I was laying in the same position I fell asleep on my sisters couch. Everything was the same as I had left it and I knew I was awake. It was about 40 minutes after I knew I had fallen asleep.

   In my brief period of being awake after my crazy lucid dream, I went through a range of emotions - elation at achieving something with little effort that many long to experience, wanting to call someone to tell them about what happened, trying to solidify a few important details from the dream in my memory so that I wouldn’t forget, fear that if/when I went back to sleep I would experience something bad or scary. Though the lucid dream I had was a fun experience, I had no initial desire to delve back into that world…I had a strange sense of being completely and totally aware of the absolute absurdity of my dream world, but having very little control over what transpired. The feeling of being out of control in a world with no rules absolutely terrified me. I finally fell back to sleep and when I awoke the next morning, had no recollection of any other dreams besides what I’ve already described.

   After doing minimal research of lucid dreaming, I realize some factors may have played into unconsciously driving myself into the awake dream state: a few days ago I bought a kindle, and have been reading the Hunger Games books like ALL NIGHT LONG and when I finally did fall asleep, was incredibly sleep deprived, allowing me to slip into REM sleep almost immediately. Additionally, the day before my lucid dream, I had done a bunch of gardening with my sister and really triggered my pollen allergies and asthma. Earlier in the night, I was wheezy and coughing a lot - borderline having an asthma attack, and I didn’t have my inhalor, so I drank some caffeinated tea, because I know caffeine has bronchidialating properties. Additionally, because of my breathing difficulties, as I was trying to fall asleep I tried to slow and control my breathing so I would not cough, and probably lulled myself into a meditative state. I’ve now read that low-dose caffeine (such as in tea) and meditation can help bring one into a lucid dream state.

   I’m at once scared and intrigued and compelled to try this again. At the very least I’m happy to know there is a pleasant alternative to the strange out of body experience I’ve had before and could never feel comfortable exploring.

   It’s only a dream.

4. Notes: 15463 / 2 months ago  from whatshouldwecallme (originally from noblesweblog)

   When I book a vacation with my best friend

   

   

   (Source: noblesweblog)

5. Notes: 99 / 5 months ago  from breaking-bad-comics
   

   bahahahaha!

    
6. 5 months ago 

   It’s that dreaded time of day again…

   Time to drag myself out of bed. The thought makes me supremely agoraphobic. Gotta do it. One foot in front of the other.

7. 5 months ago 

   Untitled.

   I don’t know why I’ve been so resistant to writing lately. It’s not like I haven’t had the time or the need, I just can’t bring myself to put pen to paper. Har har har.

   I know for a fact now, I am depressed again. Like the real kind. The kind that makes getting out of bed in the morning the most difficult task of the day.

   Once I’m up it’s not too bad, being busy helps stave off the feeling of nagging dread and impending doom. Lately whenever I find myself with a 15 minute+ chunk of time, I for whatever reason am trying desperately to daydream about happy things. I start off with the best of intentions, usually thinking about Ryan in some sort of pleasant way but what was once upon a time a supremely easy task is now almost chore - not for lack of want to do these things but because of the difficulty I have using my damn imagination lately. There is no room for happy thoughts in my brain when that nagging dread and so many unpleasant things are swirling around, stealing my smile or at least making it a lot less genuine.

   The most frustrating part of this is that I feel like if I could cry then maybe some of this weight would be lifted, even if temporarily, but I can’t CRY. I feel like I need to cry, I’m 3/4 of the way there. I feel that pit in my stomach and the nervous energy in my esophagus but there is no lump in the throat. No twitch of emotion in the face. Just a blank stare.

   Oh how I just want to cry right now. So badly. 

   On top of all of this, I’m having trouble sleeping. When I do sleep my dreams are either nonexistent or rather somber. It’s easy enough to fall asleep, especially because I’m so tired during the day, but I usually wake up at some point and just can’t get back to sleep. Like right now. 4:54 AM. Fuck. And this is when the thoughts start swirling and entwining my brain and my body and my personality in that dark mire. I have so many things to think about. I know making a list would probably help so I could maybe start crossing things off but I this time I fear what the list would look like. It’s totally counterproductive. My diseased brain is telling me that making a list makes my problems/tasks/whatever something real and that I would only be thinking of these things constantly if I did so, when the truth of the matter is if I could just get these things out of my head and onto a piece of paper, I could perhaps stop thinking about these things as distant black fog. There’s another thing that scares me this time about making a list. I don’t know what I’d put on it. I have a couple of ideas but I’m really kinda worried about culling my brain to parse out what’s really bugging me. At least I know this time that I have somewhat legitimate reason to feel down, which I think is a step in the right direction from all the times before.

   Christ. It’s 5am and whatever I was watching just turned to infomercials. Literally the only thing on right now is The Nanny. Fuck you Fran Drescher.

   Anyways. It’s obvious to me that I need to make a list and start trudging through the line items to hopefully rid myself of this feeling and come out of this downturn cycle productively. I don’t think that I’m ready yet, though. Maybe later today at work.

   I do have to get one thing off my chest though: work lately scares the shit out of me. The thought of going, being there is such a weight and a drain on my emotional state. I think this feeling all started with having my tonsils out. I had to hire new people so that I could take the time off to recover. When I was almost ready to go back to work, I went to a party at my boss’ house. Only one other girl from work was there, but I asked how everything had been and she said…surprisingly good, and under control.

   This should’ve made me happy but my heart sank. I’m replaceable. I’ve always known this, but now everyone else does too, and it scares me. I don’t have the sense of job security like I always used to. Things are changing and I don’t like it. I’m unsure of my continuing place at work - I feel like I’m quickly approaching a wall. 

   The thought keeps creeping in my mind that I’m just plain fucking mediocre at my job. Just doing enough to get by. I know it’s true because I know I could do so much more, but for whatever reason I just don’t. Being a perfectionist, this makes me so incredibly angry that I can hardly stand it. I can hardly stand it, but still I don’t act to try and change it. Or I do for a brief period of time and quickly revert back to my original rut of crappy behavior.

   The urge to cry has not been as strong as it is at this moment. I’m going to leave on that note. I’m turning off the TV and I’m going to drift off into imagination land for what will probably be another failed attempt to daydream about Ryan. Maybe I’ll be successful this time. I hope like hell that I am.

   Spending time with Ryan and my parents are the only glimmers of light on a very dark and oddly colored landscape, like the sky before a tornado.

   Please wish me luck.

8. 5 months ago 

   It’s 6am and I can’t sleep

   I’m at ryans and only have my phone. So I’m just gonna jot down some bullet points for a post.

   Buffalo ‘66 and it’s bleak ass tone and its effect on my outlook as of late/zombie nightmares again=I feel disconnected from my reality. Again. Ugh.

   Mary’s party and the incident

   Job/money/tonsils/stress

   I think I’m depressed again.

   I’ve been awake for an hour thinking of all of the above. Wish me luck, I just wanna sleep.

9. Notes: 1392 / 6 months ago  from kambreydanielle (originally from thearchtivist)
   

   Motherfuckin’ WANT

   (Source: thearchtivist)

    
10. 6 months ago 

    And now…: A Very Special Blog Post

    This will be a deviation from my usual self centered psychobabble. I found out tonight that my grandpa is not doing too well…to say the least. I just typed a long paragraph describing the minutiae of his specific predicament, but none of that is important. My grandpa is dying. He is in an intensive care unit in some hospital in Florida, and my mom and the rest of my extended family are flying down to visit him tomorrow morning, because the end is nigh. I will most likely be unable to join them, and him, for multiple reasons that when taken individually are surmountable, but compounded together make an impromptu trip to Florida nearly impossible. <——and I feel like the scum of the earth for even typing that last sentence. This is what I’ve been going back and forth with for hours now. I could type up a large list of pros and cons and what ifs and what if nots and excuses and reasonings, but the fact remains that I just can’t go, and it’s tearing me up inside, and so I’m going to write my grandpa a letter.

    Grandpa, ChawPaw, Grampa Cam,

    Let me first start by saying that this will probably be a very long letter, as I’d like to think that I got my ability to talk about a subject for hours or pages on end from you :) I’d like to think that I take after you in many ways, though I’m not sure if this is just wishful thinking on my part or a true genetic inheritance. I do know for a fact that I have your lovely fingernails, and your affinity for chatter [much to the chagrin of my mom]. The last two sentences are kinda funny at this moment, because I have no idea where to go from here. Where to start. I enjoy writing as much as I do talking, so I do hope that you forgive my stream of consciousness thoughts as they come to mind. I don’t think I’ve ever shared any of this with you [my love of writing, for one], and I regret not doing so in the past when I had ample chance.
    
    At this moment all I can think about is the wooden goose mobile that hung in the kitchen of your house in Cape St. Claire, in the corner between the kitchen and the dining room. For as long as I can remember, my fondest and most looked forward to memories are of pulling the string that hung from the goose’s belly as hard as I could to make its wings flap. It was an amazing day, the day that we all visited for some reason or another, be it a crab feast or Thanksgiving or Christmas, and I was tall enough to pull the string on my own. Without you or my dad having to pick me up to do so…not only because of my overwhelming pride in the fact that I was TALL, and therefore an ‘adult’ as it were, but because I could pull it as many times as I wanted to my heart’s content without having to rely on someone else. My memories of you are flooded with goose wings flapping overhead. I have millions more of these memories centered around you and Grandma Pat, and all of our family together, and your house. Please know that all of these memories are the most vivid of any that are swirling around in my brain from when I was small, because most of all, above anything else, they are the happiest of memories that I have ever experienced.
    
    When you moved to Florida and there were a bunch of knickknacks up for grabs, there was only one object I coveted - the wooden goose mobile, because I have such a strong sense of memory tied to it, and by result, you.
    
    There are many things I want to say now but feel awkward doing so, because I never have before. My family is not the best at expressing feelings and so it takes me awhile to get to the root of things sometimes. Bear with me in the next few paragraphs, because I want to explain how much you have meant to me.
    
    I want you to know that I love you; though I don’t know if I’ve ever actually spoken those words to you, please know that I do, so deeply, and I hope that my babbling can express the extent, though I don’t think it can. I appreciate and love and treasure the fact that you have been my grandpa. This may seem a bit bleak but I’ve had an odd set of grandparents handed to me, and you have been the one, the only one who I can truly love and appreciate as everything a grandpa is supposed to be. I feel like others I meet may take this fact for granted, but you have been the only one in my life who embodies all of the characteristics of what a grandparent is supposed to be to a grandchild. Always loving, always supportive, always kind, and always there. I very honestly cannot say this of anyone else in my life. I wish you could be there for the rest of my days, because I don’t know how I will be able to live without you.
    
    Right now I’m regretting my selfish actions and hating myself because I haven’t until this point taken the time to express to you how important and awesome your presence has been in my life. And now, your existence is fleeting, and all I can do is remember what I had, and regret and worry and hypothesize what ifs. I apologize for the blunt nature of all I am writing at this moment, I think that now is the only time I will ever get to try to put in words how much you mean to me. I just want to stress my points without flowery quotes, because I know that you’d see right through them otherwise.
    
    Grandpa, I am who I am because of you. I’ve always been shy and timid and insecure, but your words and encouragement and praise and love have given me the base of a confident and smart individual, a person who I am quite sure in saying that I would never have been without you.
    
    My wish right now is to be at your old house, with butcher paper on the table and bushels of crabs. All of our family around, joking and laughing and swatting at mosquitoes and picking at crabs. This will never happen again. It’s sad to think about in the past tense, but it happened so many times that it can be ingrained in my memory, and I am so, SO incredibly happy that I am privileged enough to even have these memories.
    
    Finally on a very real note, I know that you know that I have smoked cigarettes, and to be quite honest I am addicted. I am making a promise to you that I will never be able to break, because I love and cherish you so much, that I will never again smoke a cigarette. This is something I have said in the past to friends and to my mother, and is a promise I have never before been able to keep; this is a promise that I can only keep to you.
    
    I love you always,
    
    Elizabeth
    
    

This blog was once supposed to be a dangerous combination of fiber obsession and the completely fucked up (in a good way) brain of my friend Brennan. But then I spilled peppermint schnapps on my laptop and lost all of mine and Brennan's saved AIM convos. Whoops.

Now just me being a 'tard

Also still some Brennan stuff.

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