reality in the city.

im watching SATC and admiring my long, dark vamp nails the color of oxygen-exposed blood. im siding with Carrie and acknowledging my blank punctuation. i'd love to do some raunchy blogging about something in a way that is full of energy and enjoyment for both me and you. buuuuut, guess who hasn't been having any amount of sex in either my home city or this college city. that's all me.

and it doesn't go to say that it's a bad thing. again, my blank, absent punctuation makes me giggle. i fucking need space to make this emotional phase in a complete and harmless way. can't take any harm right now. but any relocation to any phase doesn't erase whether or not loneliness is there. i guess i could make myself feel not alone, which isn't hard to do. it's all relative and deeply mental, as cliché as it is. no problem. i can do this all day long, everyday like nobody's business. done. but, why does it always seem like there is room for such thoughts and conclusions in my brain if the matter isn't even a true problem? if it isn't a problem, hell it's a state of normalcy for PLENTY of people, am i right? so why does my thought pattern deem my singleness as pressing enough to interrupt other thoughts that make more sense, such as nicotine addiction, the PDR, French idioms i should familiarize myself with, God, MY own divinity?

see? it's an unbalanced equation and i don't know what's doing the unbalancing. i fucking hate women on the race to the altar. i hate women who lose themselves in their husbands for whatever reason. i question taking a man's last name for my own, i hate the confines of sexuality and the whole concept of normalcy when it comes to relationships and how disappointing it is when all of our ideals are shot to hell and all there is to do is keep trudging along. it's too often that women are victims and too seldom that there are real answers or attempts at solutions. there AREN'T any. look at the dissolution of celebrity families even considering all of their money and resources. look at how you deny God and transcend and literally fight the existence. the lines are constantly being blurred; who's to say what is sin or growth? who is to say what is right or wrong or even how to fucking go about doing either?

everyone is full of shit, and what we say and especially what we do is full of shit.

girlflirt.

despite what my face allows me to get away with, i'm embarrassed to say that i suck at flirting. my mother is always pushing me to wink at the older guys [do something, darling! look at him, at least stop looking in your book..] and my grandmother also reminds me that i never know when i could meet my husband and that i should always smile and stop scowling at every evidence of fuckery that i witness, because it isn't going anywhere.

well this has absolutely nothing to do with any of that.

there is this absolutely GORGEOUS woman in my facebook network. i'm talking smoking. and i had the guts to message her one day to tell her that i thought so. this is what it got me:

woah! and she is supposedly "straight." this happens to me more often than is conventionally casual being how i am easily perceived as an established heterosexual lady, what with the being engaged to a man? once and everything. so i wonder about myself. i like to imagine that i have an attractive androgynous wile that draws the eyes of both men and women. guys look at my face, my legs when i expose them and like it. girls look at my striking and wise eyes when i look at them without inhibitions, my strong walk, my independence, the flair i use when simply opening a door for myself and get both embarrassed and flustered when i acknowledge and smile at their staring and even wink at them.

haha. i'm a monster. it's so delicious to flirt with a pretty woman! why can't more guys do it the correct way and stop pissing me off?

waggle your eyebrows at me after i look at you and look away. don't stare at me when my back is purposefully turned to you and will me with your mind to turn around and face you via telekinesis. don't honk your horn at me unless you're in a well-kept antique car and wearing a top hat with a cigar hanging out of your mouth. don't yell at me "Hey, girl.." don't start "whispering" about me to your boyfriends to travel with. don't don't don't. blow out your cigar smoke in my direction, smile. wink at me and don't expect me to do anything back. have a commanding presence and something to talk about other than your money and gaudy accessories. wear suits, not baggy denim shit. Oversized tees paying homage to legends are OK. hip, urban jargon sucks. call me "Miss" and "Lady."

nonsequitur? dreams.

before having a string of about three very weird wet dreams starring a past female teacher of mine and myself incarnate as an old Frenchman, i had the sweetest, simplest dream that still needs a little analysis.

i dreamed that i was standing in the rain but strangely not getting drenched with some tall man in coattails [my boyfriend/Daddy] and i had my arm very possessively wrapped around his waist because i'm short and this is where les bras comfortably rested, you see.

well, anyway. this blond man who looked exactly like Heath Ledger in a cross between his roles in 10 Things and A Knight's Tale didn't run away from me. he didn't stiffen or resist. he completely melted into his obviously well-established role to his adoring midget woman. and then comes the clincher: he wrapped one arm around my shoulder and bent down low to give me a very purposeful and not too mushy kiss--on the forehead.

swoon!

but after that, i remember vividly consecutive scenes of me being in this man's presence again and still having the same feelings for him. i remember being near him, but not being with him to the point of my dream running like a big chase around several places. there was my elementary school in a downpour, there was my apartment, there was this park/field type place, there was an English class lecture where he sat across the room with some other people... weird. but in my mind, he was still my boyfriend. i still felt very possessive and i was even scheming up a way to get him alone and to myself [in my bed] soon. i guess i figured that he wouldn't pass up that offer and that i would get the closeness and affection from him that i really wanted. hmm.

whatthecrap? now i'm just remembering that i went to sleep really early and i was really tired. i was on some mood modifying meds and i was up reading JokerxHarley fanfiction. so, i figure that this all pretty much equals an equation for disaster, or at least nonsequitur? dreams.

random photo blogging!

this is an image of the extensions that i am having installed in my head:
see the cute little bang piece? in reality, the tracks are only a nine-dollar synthetic kind, but they're gorgeous and shiny. lots of subtle body to save me time managing my do!

this is me eating out/stuffing my face and looking completely caught off-guard.
i hate how natural light tends to diminish the drama of my look. i can look loads more vamp and interesting.

compare this sweetness to this va-voom vampness aided with some hair extensions:
and this little hat i saw at Wal-Mart today is simply love, okay?

i txted it to my girl friend and she queefed herself in delight. it's my crew's fave beer!

i have an ego, but still no cash.

i'm envisioning some wavy hair extensions. i'm not talking about a full head of sewn-in tracks here, like i sported on campus the whole time last academic year. i'm more interested in exposing my real hair, which is really long now due to the extreme weaving, and i just wanna enhance the back with some texture that i don't have to manage with a curling iron everday. i'm talking a pack of eight-dollar plastic hair and maybe two tracks worth of enhancing. i just don't wanna disappoint a certain someone who is used to seeing me in a full wig in pictures. damnit me for the glitter-glam keep up!

i've just re-discovered how much my ego eats it up when someone calls me "dollface." men and women alike have called me this before and i swear that it's like a new orgasm every time it passes someone's lips to my ears.

in other news, i'm broke-as-fuck, but i still have this annoying desire to go accessories shopping. i want a new oversize bag that can do for books and whatever college life throws at me. cool prints and sophisticated style are a plus. nothing expensive in mind. actually Wal-Mart has been good about furnishing my tastes and leaving a purpose for my wallet. there are these adorable little scarf head bands there...

i made a pink little link button. it's in the menu to the left under "TPPP" heading, appropriately. take it and plug me if you love me or hate me. just don't direct link and be aware that i have occasionally changed domain names in the past. "cherry" has been a presence on the web since before Movable Type was news, so she's not going anywhere too far for a long time and you love it. wonder if i should give kareah a heads up? she's prolly already had a look here. i can almost guarantee it, actually. it would just make sense to do a link exchange with her. or anyone. i'm looking to build my blogroll! any interested folks lemme know!

sigh, i'll be back to mis-managing my life on my own out-of-state soon. but hopefully, i'll have a special friend who makes passing time a little more interesting, if not pleasant like junior high crushes and rolling around in the carpet with older boys wearing spicy cologne. pleasant like teaching yourself how to smoke for the one night when you're so drunk that you absolutely NEED about three cigarettes to tilt your mind into a levelness. pleasant like losing your virginity and no one dying from it.

i promise that i had a purpose before i started typing. i just promise. but it evades me now for some reason.

oh, that's it.

but i'm not gonna combine something completely abstract and spiritual with random references to orgasms and trendy, oversize bags. i hope i don't forget to post about that because spiritually profound moments have been happening with a frequency very recently. i can't recall this from any other time.

"larry" txted my phone, or at least someone who had his phone at the moment txted me with "How u been?" when i tried to call back, though, i got some suspicious and lame-ass sounding excuse / lie about the phone being wet and that a txt would be the only way to communicate. i was disgusted by this point and had even forgot what i was going to say, so i very lamely told "larry" to go on with his life like i was doing and that i don't know why his number wasn't blocked from contacting me. whatever, dudes. it is written.

i know that this is the third reference to my hair in a few posts, but i'm going to take some vanity shots of myself with my new do when it's completed for entertainment purposes. haha, and hopefully some silly shots of around-campus lounging are coming more-than-likely while classes aren't difficult to the point of tears. "i don't wanna grow up," says the girl who is already quickly passing the acquired medical knowledge of her mother and aunt combined who are nurses in her home state. i'm still a kid, but i'll be wearing scrubs soon. i'm a child, but i know how to do a bacterial transformation and anatomical jargon is second nature to me.

anyways. i've updated my fiction blog and transferred it all to a more secure server. it's coming nicely. i surprise myself when i review what comes out of my mind at any time. it's all so personal and i can even make it art. i can even make it beautiful.

sad and scary. wtf?

i got this in my inbox. it's hilarious and just a tad bit scary. shyeah, there are typos galore and it doesn't even matter:

"come on now I kno U get told all the time how beautiful because its only the truth how do you feel about about me so far? how would you feel the most comfortable confiding with me about eachother I could really enjoy ur friendship an companionship baby I would be that some1 u could grow to trust an maybe one day love thats whats up.. 4 the most part I could see myself holding you on the beach under the moonlight watching firworks b4 we go to the condo an get in the hot tubb or just holding hands as we walk where the water rushes on our feet an buries our toes in the sand if we see a lil sand crab an you become affraid I will carrie you Im being serious with you R U down to get 2kno me an see how I broke the mold you'll never meet any 1 like me again they could not duplicate my style if I sold them the blu print but dont think I am boastful b/cause I NOT but I am confident in myself I kno you could respect my hustle an I bet your a girl who would be down for her man???"

for the record, this is from a a cute white guy. doesn't matter, just illustrating here. how does he know that i respond well to such jargon? in other words, does he think that just because i'm black i'm willing to "respect [his] hustle?" i can only wonder.

also for the record, this is a little scary and hopefully some other girl [of any race] can "be down" for this man because it just isn't me. protect yourselves online. there are some true creepers out there. it's funny and it's sad. i'm SO lol'ing at the sand crab bit.

shhh..

i SO have Joker Begins, uh, i mean, The Dark Knight on bootleg. don't tell anyone. i've seen it twice in theatres and i'm just using a copy of it to satiate my fandom. love dat Ledger!Joker. Nolanverse ain't half bad at all. aww, Puddin'.

my hair is fucking amazing. i'm going to upload pictures soon. there is no weave, no color. just an ends trim and severe wrapping going on at bedtime. i look like a supermodel and men [and ladies] honk at me when i drive around town in my movie star glasses. haha, if they only could guess that my eight dollar skinny jeans are the most expensive item of clothing that i'm wearing.

i love being an internet celebrity. i should make some link buttons, i think; i think a lot of stuff.

have you ever had such bad dreams that you woke up with horrible stomach cramps? i did. maybe i ate something awful, or maybe i watch too much bad television for my own good. either way, sitting on the toilet for thirty minutes was definitely the worst part of my day today. yeah, i said it.. cherry hardly censors herslef, okay? she's a feminazi with way too much going on in her genius head. you love it, darling.

i wish that i could do burlesque dance without people looking at me funny. hell, they look at me funny now. performing burlesque would just push me over into being actively cast out from society. haha. being true to myself is so exhausting! which is why you shouldn't try it at home. i'm a trained professional. these stunts are designed for me and for me only!

what's done in the dark will come to the light. and there will never be another me to completely fill up spaces. inadequacy never suits anyone, but so many people are wearing it like they own it. wearing it so well, that they are reading this sentence that i am typing this instant and realizing that i'm addressing them. feeling insulted and smirking because they went looking for trouble and found it. you've got it, so keep away from me. you should be happy with what you found, or are you still jealous that even now with my stale, stale leftovers, you still get upset because you're not me? read this post all day long everyday. you will not become me in ANY area of life, not just with some guy. EPIC FAIL.

So their problem. hope this sad city and its depressing crowd suit and exhaust them. i'm keeping on the move to greatness, and at least some great fun and lotsa cute men in the meantime.

p.s. i love the fabulous and fucked-up friends that i have! i have the best and most fun support in the world! i've got the stuff of art all for me and it's beautiful ever fucking day that i encounter.

okay, okay, i just have to remark on some more of my awesomeness. this blog is nothing but a product of my self-indulgence, of course. i'll be quick and then i'll be gone: my hair is, once again, fucking fabulous. i'm losing weight in all the right places and gaining none anywhere. i've sucessfully quit smoking for a while now! i'm going to run for President soon.

stoned.

i am soooooo doped up now on prescriptions till it's not even funny. it's pleasant as hell and gives me the "oomph" to crawl out of the figurative fetal position that i'm often in and actually do something with my gift of involuntary respiration and voluntary will to be productive. that said, i am blogging and daydreaming about an ideal life.

before the meds today, i had to courage to finally confront a friend about some feelings of betrayal on my part. i'm not [too] crazy and i don't make things up, so i have a justification for my emotions and i'm brave enough to confront the source of my misery. turns out beside my tendency to be overly dramatic, the friend has a tendency to be clueless. nevertheless, i have to look out for myself here in this life. if it takes acknowledging a change in relationship and respecting that people operate independently of my best interest and always will [even if that person was a bestie] then i just have to step into the big-girl panties and do that. if i even have to cut ties with several people to ensure my own wellness and happiness, then i'l gladly do it because i'm only responsible for myself and making myself comfortable. doing the right thing is exhausting.

and boring to blog about.

i'm going to die my hair, i promise. i'm thinking a dark brown. somethign simillar to what the natural color of my hair probably is. haven't seen it in years.

aww, my juju's online♥

stooooooonedd. stoned. stoned. excellent, i must say.

this has been another completely random and nonsensical indulgence of mine. you love it. peace out.

booyah, bitches.

deary, deary me. i've become a hopeless fan not of Ledger!Joker but of black coffee of late. i'm trying to catch up to the euphoria of my mother on her opiates. i'm speeding on the way to nowhere safe really quickly as i puff at a Marlboro Light every now and then. i hid the pack from myself in a bag of useless kitty litter. i don't like that i even know how to smoke, let alone have detectable desire to do such

yuck. i'm gonna stop it. well how about this? once i grow the fuck up and start making some productive big-girl decisions that don't equal up to health concerns in my life, i'll then reconsider whether or not i want to be a smoker.

i should be smoke-free for a loooong time, dontcha think?

hmmm. i'm still feeling a bit spunky despite the overbearing number of reasons that could easily force me into a more contrary humor. must be all of the black coffee, no sugar, no creme. and what am i going to do with this spunkiness? i ask myself, and i am mentally imagining another being asking me also, so i'll go ahead and answer that question--all sorts of shit.

i'm gonna help out T and her overdrmamtic approach to a pathetic-ass situation dillema. i'm going to style my hair and maybe dye it a little lighter. be on the lookout for light brown tinted beehives and lotsa eyeliner to match. i'm gonna whittle down my waist. i'm eva's height, and now i'm going to be even her impossible weight. i don't have far [if anywhere] to go. i'm gonna be fucking fabulous and there is nothing you can do about it.