me, meds, and mondays.

i'm not ashamed to say that i need to take antidepressants to keep myself going on.

wait. that sounds waaay too dramatic.

fact is, that i can get on without them. that is to say, i wouldn't die, or go so crazy that i'd do myself in or hang a baby out of a window..

it's just that depression is a condition. it's hereditary for me. i believe also that it's part environmental, which leaves room for my own transcendence and self-treatment. i believe that eventually, i can get to a state of existence in which mood-modifying prescription medicine becomes quite useless, like art. but right now, i don't mind stating that i catch myself dragging my feet on some monday mornings, downing a thermos of black coffee, wearing sparkly black eyeliner like a raccoon to hide signs of unwellness, and remember that i forgot my meds, as tacky as it is to broadcast to readers that i've been diagnosed with severe clinical depression since i was twelve years old.

i also drink out of the soda bottles in the refrigerator without first pouring myself a glass. i just put my mouth directly on the bottle and put it back when i'm done. but then again, i pretty much live alone. i don't keep my legs perfectly shaven. i pick at my teeth in public..

i know that i'm not the only one with bad habits and behavior to be less-than-proud about. and yes, you have my permission and encouragement  to comment away. how about you? i ask.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

on the other hand [i have different fingers] and i must say that tomorrow is going to be filled with me, my best friend, and all of our fabulous crew for a night of birthday celebrations--not at my apartment but nearby. i have to make a store run to buy wine glasses, balloons, and a cocktail dress that matches my pumps--or pumps that match one of my cocktail dresses! i love fancy house parties. think: cigarette extenders, champagne, and jazz music. right up until we're all a little too, excuse my frankness, DRUNK and we're laughing and dancing to Quiet Riot and Queen. 

and i leave you with a song by one of my FAVORITE bands. Placebo's hit titled, appropriately enough, "Meds." good song, divine album. great mood music for heading out downtown.

i feel old and wear my trousers rolled.

[Photo Credit] me and my camera phone! that's a lotta beer bong. and gotta love the guy in the cape.

a buddy  of mine whom i haven't seen in months told me something today that made me sad, but i just responded to him with one of my bright smiles and graceful nods. it was fake, of course; thanks, cheerleading! i was sitting in the café with my Italian sandwich and Chuck Palahniuk book and he greeted me all warmly. we started talking about the past and i hinted at my upcoming birthday. so, the guy told me that i'm getting old.

duh, duh, dunnnn!...

yeah. thanks, buddy. i'm turning the big 2-0 soon and it's scary for me, alright? there are physical age and psychological age to contend with; they are two separate beasts. don't joke about either, or i'll stab you in the neck with this fork! i don't feel like growing up. i don't feel like an adult. i don't want to get old when i'm not ready to do so! i understand now when women stay "23" for five years at a time. hell, my grandmother has been "40" since i was born.

so in elucidation of the twenty-something adult life, i'm going to just wax on where my life is now that i'm soon to be saying adieu to my teenage days.

this "adult" loves being lazy when she can afford to. she still giggles when she can skip an unimportant class meeting and it feels like hooky in high school. she likes hanging out over her friends' apartment and playing video games until it gets dark. she likes hanging over their balcony when all 15 of them go outside with their cigarettes and trash talk political figures, school administration, and your mom. she looks forward to the weekends: dressing up in black dresses, having drinks , and listening to the cover band perform some David Bowie or Guns n Roses. she likes getting off of work from Hooters and blowing her tips on rounds of cranberry and vodka.

she can easily pull on a pair of slacks and a chemise for class discussions, meetings, and debates. she can pull her hair back and wear subdued makeup as she takes notes on Organic Chemistry. she concentrates like nobody's business when she draws a molecule and shows its hybridization at different carbon atoms, and as she sits in any one of her professor's offices and nods and promptly proposes to them plans for her thesis, etc. she can keep contact with the president of her future medical school and return his emails. she can speak French and plan her abroad trip to l'Auvergne maybe. she can keep herself busy in planning her career and getting her adult life off of the ground [because, baby it's happening quickly]. 

but sometimes she still likes watching IuYasha on the weekends with a box of pizza while listening to some old Blink 182. speaking of which!:

"That's about the time she broke up with me
No one should take themselves so seriously
With many years ahead to fall in line
Why would you wish that on me?
I never want to act my age
What's my age again?
What's my age again?

What's my age again?"--Blink 182 "What's My Age Again"

i love those guys! and they hit the nail right on the head! here's a tribute of sorts to me growing up and to whatever fabulous world awaits me now. i'm excited and scared, but i know that i can welcome the new life gracefully. even when i'm the cosmopolitan and gorgeous francophile Surgeon Burton [hee, hee--not my current last name if you know what i mean], there will ALWAYS be the time for some InuYasha, damnit!

Job should have worn a big, pink boa.

some heavy, expensive World Lit book of mine thrown ontop of all of my other texts quotes some French ciritc for naming Job of the Hebrew texts as one of the masterpieces of the entire work. drawing from my own [limited] personal knowledge of this book from the Old Testament and the critic's opinion, i can agree. out of the boring, contradictory, and confusing collective, Job's sticks out. it's progressive, at least. the simplistic and totally false belief that good people are accordingly rewarded and that evil people never prosper is exhausting to adopt and it's tested in this story.

i'm not saying that i've read it recently or know it intimately, but it's a good story to tickle the neurons and the faith. good people are punished all of the time and even evil people succeed. now, with that bottom line, a practical person will notice the room for nihilism. Why in the fuck waste my time and energy being a genuinely good person, when there are loads of hypocrites, anarchists, etc having the times of their lives and who get the same everyday "punishments" that I do? If life lends itself to indiscriminate injustices, why take a spiritually Stoic stance against it and assume the life of an exhausted "good guy?" hmm?

let's consider it: i without reservations label myself a good person. i've got morals. i'm humble enough about my life and i acknowledge the need for individual liberty and happiness. i'd rather have thirty minutes with my family than a new car. i recognize selfish people, people with ill intentions, jealous people.. and i avoid the same in myself. i won't go into further detail and brag about all of my values; just know that i'm generally grounded in what can be considered a "good" life. and i'll even go further by saying that i believe this is rare form for the rest of humanity. everywhere i witness people possessed by their possessions, if you get what i mean. people who not only appreciate the superficial, but succumb to it. people motivated by nothing but what hurts other people. it's really toxic, if you ask me [and even if you don't]. and i'm sure you all can identify similar presences in your own spheres of life. it's nothing new or particularly difficult to comprehend. 

one of my uncles has his own manor. his children all have designer clothing, the newest technology, and more money than they know what to do with. the children are rude, negative, and two-faced even to other family members. the family dynamics frankly suck. the mother yells at the kids instead of raising them into good people. the father is only slightly better [because he was raised by my awesome grandmother].

my mother is a disabled nurse. she raised three kids [sometimes by herself]. she's been married to my dad all of her adult life. she stresses education, hard work, culture, and strong family ties. she is spiritual and isn't owned by material masters. she doesn't yell at me unless i have it coming. in fact, i can call her any time i want to, and she has an earful of good advice and counsel. even my dad tells me how proud he is of me everyday and hugs me when i see him. he sits and reads comics with me, lets me wear his hats, and watches bad television with me. my family is Christian in faith, but they'd never dream of ostracizing someone just because the morals and values don't line up. they're pretty open-minded [hell, they raised me]. they love indiscriminately and genuinely and don't hide behind a facade of holiness and superiority. we're REAL and cool! 

but, we're really poor [:(] my mom has a little apartment and we shop at thrift stores for cool stuff. the place is full of antique decorations, vintage clothing, costume jewelry, indie films, 80s music, comic books, and vampire literature. bad things happen to us all of the time and i won't describe all of it, but just know that it does. if you're a good person, you can imagine.

so, i run into bad luck occasionally, and as long as i'm alive, it's still bound to happen. my uncle is rich in the meantime, which helps cushion any of their other misfortunes maybe [or that's what they believe]. 

so, what's the point? rhetorically asking. i'm not going to sacrifice my own conventions anytime soon, but i'm asking anyway. i may or may not have one absolute answer, but whatever i believe must be good enough because i'm still on team Good Guy! and i give it a fabulous air! we should get tshirts and wear big, pink boas around the town.

aesthetics.

Pretty!Cherry is a Belle even in a baseball cap!

i am sooo typing this from a friend's laptop right now. and i have a glass of wine already in my consumption, so this post should be all sorts of fun.

i've been thinking alot about aesthetics. about my look. here's is what i've come up with: i effing love tons of black eyeliner. i love fake beauty marks under my eye or by my mouth. it all depends on if i happen to have a zit at the time and where it is. a nose ring is not an option. it's always there. i love my golden tresses in curls and a devastatingly red lipstick. i have long, dark nails the color of oxygen-exposed blood that like to grasp my copy of The Killing Joke [comics are love]. i like lace and false eyelashes. i wear dark colors for the sophistication when my favorite color is "hooker pink." i like burlesque hints and the smirks that grace my photos. i like my antiquated fascinations... i like me because nobody else can be me--even if they try.

so simply, good people--indulge me. what are your current looks? what do you love? tell me; show me. make my day, darlings.

comfortable here.

i'm so... COMFY now; comfy to the point of unfamiliarity here in my depeche mode, "hurry up and get into the university groove again" phase. and i know, it's a weird statement, and an even weirder place to be, trust me. it's indeed a challenge to wrap my mind around, to conceptualize. i've got an inkling of an idea of what i mean, so it transcends idea into a place of being. it exists; it's fact. i just can't make it materialize into coherence! a challenge that i'm going to run with just now.

i have all of my text books, which may not register as an issue to persons not in university. i'll explain. i'm taking some real "big girl" courses and there is absolutely NO public funding for me to pay $150 [at least] per medical text, per lab manual, per PDR, per whatever! and thank goodness i haven't gone through any REAL struggle when it came to going about paying several hundreds of dollars for these big scary books. hell, some students have to get jobs. i've been prettily sitting on my ass and being a good person because i'm blessed enough to not have to struggle for my education! yay for that! and now that i have all of this heavy study material [and am so glad about it], i have absolutely no choice but to "hit the books" and study my grateful ass of for my exams and such. i've got materials AND motivation.

i should really take the camera tomorrow and do a photo tour of my life. shots of my apartment, spots around the campus, my hangouts in the town, etc. it's so great: domestically, my life is well situated and well decorated. the apartment is so cute and full of exactly what i need. socially, my life is in similar form. there is an almost visible radius of youthful fabulousness wafting around in my daily life. i'm actually becoming friends with more and more ladies. gee, it's nice to be around people who aren't [too] crazy and have some sort of grip on their lives! ladies who can fill their time with all of the crazy fun i adore while we all keep an adult hold on the situation. Upscale bars and ska shows, anyone? and the gentlemen are great. i've got the set of chill fellows i hang out with for the movie theatre and for dinner, and a lot more still who would make such a good son-in-law for my momma. and don't even get me started on the guy who looks like Heath Ledger from the 10 Things movie!.. but i'm still single right now. yep yep yep. maybe not for much longer; it's all up to me. but, enough of that; only boring girls can only spend their time talking about boys!

but back to me being comfy. i'm just SO content.. i'm not wanting anything. no materials, no people--i'm just great. and i'm not saying that i'm a minimalist. i need way more than two glasses in my cabinet, thankyouverymuch. i'm not a fan of living like a bum only very recently removed from his cardboard box into a real property. it's just that i am in possession ALL of my necessities and then even more great stuff! woo! i'm so content, i repeat. all of my and my family's hard work is paying off--and not just for me. the folks back home are prospering, too. [:D]

i have seriously just dedicated a post to waxing [squeeing] about how great my life is right now. sorry.

nah, not really!

holiday hurricane.

my geek flag has been flying high these days. i've whored out my bank account at the comic shop just like it's been wanting. bought The Killing Joke Deluxe Edition. it'll do for now until i can get my hands on an earlier printing from my birth year [!] . those things can get up to be hundreds of dollars, i think.



that's me holding and showing Joker some love, which im sure he just adores.



you know what they say about guys and big noses. Mistah J? i want.



oh, yeah. i've put some color in my head. after all of the hints towards finally changing it up a bit, i have a lighter thing going on. i perceive it as a kind of red blond color:

and as we all now, this past weekend was a special one because it was indeed a holiday weekend AND a hurricane weekend, also. i'm assuming N.O.'s hurricane evacuation routes lead drivers straight to my hometown because the city was filled with strangers. there were strange accents, faces, and weird buying behavior. i promise: folks were buying cases of water and toilet tissue AND cases of Coors Light. hmm. i have some photos snapped of the lunacy [fun] and i'll prolly post a pic or two later. i'm not polite and i don't blur faces or hide ugly candids. not that i purposefully try to go after things like that, though.