Welcome to My Sickness

He's obsessed with me.. He just doesn't know it.

        In honor of Coming Out Week, I give you my sick, little fantasy. Sometimes, I am sixteen years old. Apparently. In my world, he is obsessed with me. Do not judge me...... Out loud. Not exactly what the week is about but, I've been in the Twilight/Rob Pattinson closet long enough!!! It's totally natural a sickness. Lucky for me, I have no shame. In my defense, he makes it impossible not to adore him. He plays music, he has a beautiful singing voice, he acts and for some deity's sake, he is fucking British. I never stood a chance.

Don't believe me about the voice? Just listen to this:

*Peaks around the corner and timidly waves hello*

*Gives you some clickable stuffz and runs away*

I'd love to stay and tell you all about my wonderful life but I'm not going to because I'm tired. I have to wake up at 2:30 AM to be to work at 4 AM!!! It's insane. As in, bat shit, skipping down the street, wearing legwarmers and a tube-top (with nothing else) crazy!!! Here's something clickable. (as promised

Screw the soap box; let's stand atop mountains and hold hands while shouting, "ENOUGH!!!

"Straight Americans need... an education of the heart and soul. They must understand - to begin with - how it can feel to spend years denying your own deepest truths, to sit silently through classes, meals, and church services while people you love toss off remarks that brutalize your soul." ~Bruce Bawer, The Advocate, 28 April 1998

 A friend on a social site, I won't name [but it rhymes with Facebook] linked this story and I immediately felt ashamed of the human race in general. Before I knew it, I was writing a novella in the comment section on her page. Want to know what I think about it? I don't care if you want to, I'm sharing it anyway.

Sometimes..... I scare myself. On purpose.

This is what spooky looks like.... In case you were wondering.

I have been working on writing a book. Like a real one. With words and pages and everything. Maybe even some commas. I know, I'm impressed too. It's a murder [slash] mystery [slash] one day you'll read it and you'll figure the label type shit out for yourself type of book. If it never gets published, I'll probably end up posting it on this blog. I just finished the second to the last chapter and freaked myself out. Like seriously. Freaked. Myself. The. Hell. Out. Here's the thing

It was a Thursday

And it was full of the AWESOME!!!










See here about that Sunday, that one time. That was not teh awesome. It was the opposite of awesome.

Here's a little back story. But click that link if you get lost because I'm not in the business of repeating myself. *snicker* The police officer, we'll call him the copper, came back to my house 3 weeks after the incident. Three. Entire. Weeks. I had already succeeded in obtaining an order of protection. The Prick got an order of protection against me too. Because he is in fear of his safety from my son and myself. Which is laughable. Really. Laughable. We may be close to buddah-ish, except I kill bees and spiders. Sometimes. I'm not that scared of spiders anymore. Almost. Okay. They're still totally creepy..... Where was I?

It was a Sunday.....

Let's talk about a Prick. I might get serious for a minute......

"Perhaps certain arcane systems of logic, mathematics, music, and stories - particularly remote and fantastic ones - have been passed down from phenotype to phenotype, in parallel with the DNA that helped shape minds which would know exactly what to do with these strange and elegant creations."

My son has Asperger's Syndrome. For those of you that won't click on the link, the easiest and oversimplified way to explain Asperger's, which is an Autism Spectrum Disorder (or ASD), is a very high functioning Autism. Why is this important? Well, it will help explain some things later. He often says, "Living in this world is like living behind tempered glass that has spider web cracks or that glass you find in bathrooms. The people can't see me but the light still comes in without hindrance. I can see out but everything is distorted. I want to talk to you. I want to touch you. I just can't get beyond the glass and you can't see me as I am. We are always divided by an invisible barrier. If I couldn't see the world through the glass, maybe it wouldn't bother me." I asked him once, when he was younger, if it were possible would he want to be cured. He responded, "I'm not sick." Pretty simple. The truth is, who would he be without the A.S? We are not simply our abilities or our views or our morals. We are all of those things and so much more. A.S is a part of who he is, but it does not, singularly, define him.

That is a portion of his back story.

It's not OCD........ Probably.

Alright... It totally is.....


My favorite (or favourite if you're not from here) candy is Tic Tacs, specifically, the cherry passion variety. It tends to be more of an addiction than an indulgence. Here is my issue: I don't like the different colors to touch each other. It drives me mad, as in bat shit crazy, not angry. I have to empty them all out and divide them into colors.

I'm unemployed for a living....

Also: I'm kind of a liar....

I keep saying I'm going to update all the time, recycle, quit smoking and be a decent human being. I've done (maybe) one of those things. In my defense, I do continue to keep quitting smoking cigarettes. I'm quitting...again. Okay. I'm more in the process of quitting. Listen! I don't care. There you have it. Only.... I do care or I wouldn't be talking about it...again. I want to get here so bad, I can taste it. Metaphorically, of course, you can't really taste Ireland. Or maybe you can. I'm sure someone has, at least, licked Ireland once or twice. We live in a world of orally fixated people. Which is probably why I smoke.

I've been unemployed for a little more than a month now. It's not as fun as I thought wanted it to be in real life. I use my free time to do good for the world make YouTube videos and write a story that has been in my head for the last 15 years. Since I have horrible grammar, it's a slow process. Also; I have the attention span of a squirrel goldfish. So, while I'm thinking about it, here's a video to watch that I edited. You can only view it in America because, Sony hates the rest of you, apparently. You should all write them and tell them they are assholes.