Operation Organize Everything: Part 1

I’ve embarked on something I like to call Operation Organize Everything. Basically this is my attempt to pull the MANY scattered notepad documents, sticky note documents, photos, poems, music, and just about everything else together in some organized fashion. I’ve already mostly finished the poetry organization (fun fact: there are currently 102 poems with my name on them, about five of which are small collections of one-liners or just ideas that haven’t yet become full poems), and though I’ve gotten most of my old notes gathered in one place, it’s still going to be a monumental task to go through the several notepads I’ve kept on various phones and devices. My current cell phone has a notes feature with over 300 notes, with everything from song ideas, novel ideas, character ideas, and outright clips of speeches given by characters or outlines for stories, to lyrics, poetry, and journal entries.

Part of what I love about having this blog is that it’s a nice place to keep everything together, all in one spot. I like knowing that if something happened to me tomorrow, there would be some kind of faithful record of my thoughts, actions and ideas. So in that vein, I’m probably going to be posting a few things that are collections of writings I’ve uncovered. Some of them are recent, some of them are a year or more old, I honestly don’t know what everything will be yet. However, I’m going to kick off with this. I can’t say that these posts as part of Operation Organize Everything will be particularly structured or well thought-out, because they’re mostly comprised of snippets from word pad documents and some of them seem to have been pulled from my Facebook feed at one point or another.

Still, it’s nice to have them collected here, so that one day I can look back and know what I was thinking and writing about. It’s important to always question, and if you want to be a writer, it’s important to always write.

On The Premiere of American Horror Story: Hotel

I was very excited for American Horror Story: Hotel. I made it through 40 minutes and I turned the fucking thing off. What a complete disappointment. No substance, no story, no character building, just shit. It was literally just jump scares and shock shock shock. From a man being crucified to a bed along with his dead lover, being fed Viagra so that he’d stay hard inside of her corpse while his eyes and tongue were gouged out, to the fleshy zombie hidden inside a mattress, the gay heroine addict being ass-raped while Sarah Paulson gently whispered for his confession of love, and Lady Gaga having a cocaine-fueled four-way vampire knife slashing blood orgy…. it’s just appalling. This was not only disgusting because of it’s complete lack of anything lacking depth (and the fact that the show is now clearly just a Lady Gaga vehicle, devoting several minutes to showing her from every angle), but the fact that this contained literally ever kind of physical, mental, and emotional RAPE I can imagine, all within the span of an hour, and I didn’t even finish it.

I’m like, literally shaking from the panic attack I had watching this total shit. Not planning on coming back for more. I genuinely loved Asylum and Coven, the characters were portrayed with grace and finesse, but this… this is just a goddamn bloodbath for the sake of being a bloodbath. It’s Ryan Murphy’s talentless, crass stereotype-fueled jump scare fodder all the way.

My Fake Tracklist For A Kylie Minogue Christmas Album

What the tracklist for the Kylie Christmas album SHOULD have been:

1 Can’t Get Jew Outta My Head

2 Better the Jesus You Know

3 Give Me Just A Little More Presents

4 Christmas Light Years

5 Red Hooded Woman (Mrs. Clause)

6 Spinning (The Dradle) Around

7 ‘Twas The Night Before A Night Like This

8 Looking For An Angel (On Top of the Tree)

9 Kiss Me Once (Under the Mistletoe)

10 More More More Chocolate

On The State of American Affairs

Call me a misanthrope, but this country has just completely gone to hell. It’s unsafe to go to school because statistically there’s a pretty good chance you’ll get shot to death, you can’t be in a relationship because if someone gets pregnant or if you WANT to plan a family, all of your options are taken away, if you want to get married the clerks might just refuse to give you service, if you want to buy a goddamn cake you can be turned away at the door. Everywhere you go there are religious people holding signs telling you to go burn in hell, walk into a hospital and there’s an ethical debate about whether or not to treat you, walk outside with skin that isn’t the right color and you’re likely to get shot dead just for EXISTING, and the people who shot you will be portrayed as heroes.

I’m just so done and over it.

On The Pope

I swear to god if I see one more Pope story in my news feed… the man is absolutely NO different than any other hate-mongering, homophobic, xenophobic, misogynist before him, he just smiles a lot and has a well-oiled PR machine that puts a spin on him to make him SEEM progressive, but not one OUNCE of change has been made in the Catholic church, and considering he is the one all-knowing vicar of Christ on Earth, he actually has the POWER to, with one word, change the doctrine, stop the violence, hatred, disease, sexual abuse, child rape, and ignorance the Catholic church is spreading throughout the world, but he isn’t BECAUSE HE ISN’T ANY DIFFERENT THAN HIS PREDECESSORS.

When the Vatican returns the treasures they stole, when he truly does something Christians and “sells all he has and gives it to the poor” (someone important in Christianity said that, can’t remember who, mighta been Jesus), and goes out and helps the poor rather than sitting on a golden throne (not an exaggeration by the way), then talk to me about how fucking progressive he is.

Charlatans Battling Other Charlatans

“The medical establishment and big pharma wants to steal your money! They know the cures but they don’t tell you so they can keep you sick! Here, instead of letting them steal your money, buy my three $25 hardback books about the secrets to health, this $60 bottle of essential oils, and all of these supplements for $14 each!”

On Cell Phones

I really hate cell phones. Put them down, people.

I don’t actually care about people having electronic devices. But there’s a difference between being uninterested in what’s happening around you and looking down at a Kindle to read or a video game to play, and holding a phone in front of your face AT ALL TIMES. People go to concerts and spend the entire time RECORDING the concert that they’re MISSING. They go to amusement parks and plays and movies and spend the whole time taking pictures of themselves there instead of experiencing it. No one poses for a picture while a nice stranger or the uncle holds the camera and says “Say cheese everyone!” Now it’s possible to document your every moment, to such a degree that you no longer need to EXPERIENCE those moments.

I never thought I’d be the one to say this, having been raised by television, Gameboy, and Playstation screens, but people need to look up at the world around them. These devices need to be used to ENHANCE the experience of life, not replace it.

An Orientation-Flipped Version of Anti-Gay Arguments

I know, it isn’t politically correct,but I’m just going to speak my mind.


Now, I’m personally not heterophobic, but I just wish they’d keep their lifestyle to themselves. I don’t want to have that straight lifestyle flaunted at me when I’m out just minding my business, trying to shop for groceries or eat a meal. I mean, what if my KIDS see that? What are they going to think? What are me and my husband supposed to say when our daughter comes home and says that there’s a boy in her class who likes GIRLS? No parent should have to have that kind of conversation with their children.

What a straight person chooses to do in the privacy of their own bedroom, behind a closed door, with the lights out and a flashing caution sign hung on the front door, is their business. Well, mostly. For some reason I really can’t seem to stop thinking about it, and talking about it, but like I said it’s their business. How am I supposed to continue being who I am, and married to my beautiful husband, knowing that there are men out there who just think it’s okay to marry women??

Personally, I don’t think the framers of our constitution ever intended for heterosexual marriage to be an issue that would ever be discussed. Our nation’s founders would be apalled to see the straight “pride” parades taking place across our nation, to see men and women kissing one another on television, or to hear music on the radio about “acceptance” of that lifestyle. It’s sick, it’s wrong, and I don’t care if it offends someone, I have the right to speak my mind. If straight people would just try hard enough, they could turn away from their lifestyle and be normal, homosexual men and women, like everyone else. But no, we’re supposed to be “tolerant,” well I won’t be.

And I don’t care if anyone likes it.

On Roadkill

So guys, tell me if you think this makes me weird. I live in the South, and I know that there’s roadkill everywhere you go but I feel like there’s gotta be a significantly higher amount in rural/forested areas like the one I live in. Whenever I see a dead possum, squirell, or other animal laying in the road or on the side of the road, I really, really seriously think about bringing along some gloves, trash bags, and a shovel, pulling my truck over, and finding a place in the woods to bury them.

A long time ago back in Georgia there was a dead cat in the road, and this thought occurred to me that someone should bury that animal, give it some dignity. The fact that it’s a CAT means that ultimately someone probably will, but a possum? No, they’re just left to die on the side of the road because they aren’t one of our domesticated animals. But when I DIDN’T bury that cat, I drove by every day and watched it’s little body get smashed further into the pavement by cars running it over, and ever since then, I can’t help but think, if I were a possum and I died tragically because some stupid humans decided to pave over my natural habitat and hit me with one of their gassed-up death machines, I would want someone to return my body to the earth, or at least to a place where scavengers can come and feed on me, not lay there in the middle of the road to be run over again and again.

I’m totally willing to be the creepy guy in the neighborhood who buries dead roadkill. Does this make me weird or what?


Material Things

My CDs are gone. All of them.

80 to be exact, many of which are deluxe editions that contain DVDs, and a few of which are singles and EPs, so it’s a grand total of 99 discs. Every single CD I own, with the exception of four albums, were in a CD case that I left at my ex-boyfriend’s house in South Carolina when I moved back here to NC. He said he was going to mail them back to me, he still may at some point, but his behavior to me has shown that he isn’t, and I’ve accepted that I’m probably never getting them back.

My relationship ended badly. It didn’t begin in the best way either. His name’s Jimmy. I usually don’t use people’s names, but I’m using it because firstly, it’s easier to tell the story, and second, because I don’t care. I don’t use people’s names because it makes me seem like a middle school kid trying to start drama and gossip about people, but I think anyone who knows me should know that isn’t what this blog is about.

So, his name’s Jimmy. Just as a quick refresher, my mother kicked me out of my house in… say, February. I could easily just go back through this blog to find the date, but I’m pretty sure it was early in February, or late in January. At any rate, she kicked me out of the house, and I lived with two women who were married, and they let me stay with them. It was not a great situation, and there was tension between me and them, and I met Jimmy during the time I was living there, via dating website Plenty of Fish. He drove a couple hours to come see me, and we had a nice first date, even though I knew there was a problem instantly because we didn’t talk. I can tell when someone’s not the right person for me fairly quickly. The date was mostly silent. The most activity involved us making out, or things of that nature. We sat in a romantic restaurant, staring at each other across the table, and not saying much of anything at all. But he was nice to me, and he was attractive, and I wasn’t going to just give up instantly. Things did get rushed, however, when, at the end of our first date, he asked me to be his boyfriend. I reluctantly accepted, but because everything was new, I kept hope that things would go well. I think I knew inside that our relationship wasn’t going to work, but I gave it a chance anyway.

There was a long, dramatic story that I don’t really feel like going into, both because it’s a bunch of bullshit and because it’s not really very interesting. The women I was living with kicked me out because I got a job and they felt I wasn’t attempting to keep it. So, feeling that I was immature, and living off of them, they kicked me out, and Jimmy let me move in with him, in South Carolina. Well as you can imagine it was all very romantic, running away to a new city with someone you fancy. But with Jimmy at work every night, and me at home adjusting to not having any antidepressants anymore (insurance ran out at the beginning of the year), added to the fact that I wasn’t really doing all I could to find a job, it was all becoming very strained very fast. Jimmy and I had known one another for about a week and we were living together already.

To my credit, I did apply for jobs. I think I put in about 8 applications. That’s not nearly as many as I could have, but it is something.  I got two interviews and I didn’t get either job. We were running out of food, and money. We were getting really hungry. We were pretty much eating sandwiches until we ran out of bread and peanut butter, and then it was rice. Then it was salads he was bringing home from work. Food was sparse, and I had nowhere to go and nothing to do for the 8 hours he was at work, or the rest of the day for that matter.

The way that it ended was very confusing too. My mom offered to let me come home for a week to get my medical stuff in order, maybe go back to the doctor and try to get my medicine back, and when I told Jimmy this, he suggested that I go home for a month, the reason being that he’d just been given a position at BMW, and was about to start making a lot more money, but he wouldn’t get his first paycheck there for about 4 weeks. And then he asked me to move home permanently. Our relationship was in a very foggy area. We talked about it, and we both felt like we should break up, but neither of us wanted to. This is the state our relationship was in when I came home.

I went to an ex’s house and fooled around with him and another guy; they’d been asking me to have a threesome with them for a while. Jimmy knew this offer was on the table, and he knew that I wanted to do it, but of course I wasn’t going to do it because I was with him. But when I got home, our relationship was all but over. I was sad, and I wanted to be near someone. To my credit, I even backed out of the threesome before the actual sex began. I told Jimmy what had happened, and he flipped out on me and broke up with me. It was his right; I did, technically, cheat on him. He told me, though, that sending me home was a “test” to see if I would take up the offer for the threesome.

Bearing all of that in mind, I think that what really happened is that Jimmy wanted to break up, but he didn’t have the courage to do it. He couldn’t look me in the eye and tell me it was over, he had to trick me into doing something that would make ME the bad guy, and give him a pretext to break up with me and come out looking like the victim. At the very least, I was honest with him throughout the whole experience. I never lied to him, I told him everything. He chose to play mind games with me, and I think that his lack of honesty was worse than my indiscretion. But that’s all in the past now.

As it would happen, I forgot my CD case when I left. If you know me, or have read this blog, you’ll know that my music collection has been a huge point of pride for me, so losing my CDs is a big deal. I probably won’t start another collection. I may just go and download the music I’ve lost, and I may not. I may start a new collection at some point, but only digitally, I’m done with physical CDs. I spent a lot of my time worrying about what would happen if there were a fire or something, which is why I took it upon myself to gather them all into one case, but of course that presents an opportunity for them all to be lost at once.

I was very upset about losing my CDs. I’ve accepted it now. If Jimmy needs to keep my CDs to try and punish me for what happened, that’s his business. I’m not going to be affected by it anymore, and I’m not going to give him power over me. I’m going to move forward with my life. There are more things I could talk about, but I think I’m going to end here for today.

June 30, 2011

Got ’em back. Jimmy mailed them back and basically apologized for the way he’s treated me. I apologized too, as I’ve done numerous times already, but still, I’ve moved on from him. At least it didn’t end in the rage that was consuming me on the day I wrote this. Also, now I can go out and add Regina Spektor to my collection.