When I think about you... I imagine you touching me.

The only thing that I currently miss about having a significant other is that exhilaration I get from being touched by them. I miss standing in line to buy tickets to a movie and having someone's hand on the small of my back, their face sniffing at the top of my head.

I can't hide anymore.

Not like I was really trying, but somehow I'd managed to lose track of so many of the people that were a part of my life in my teen years. I miss quite a few of them, I've even been looking for some, but up until Myspazz, I'd drifted apart from so many of the people who knew me "back when."

So, the following is an older blog of mine, but for the sake of the newer readers that might not have seen it and are contemplating friendship with me, I thought I'd repost it. You can't say that I didn't warn ya.

*Sigh*

I woke up today with that really shitty feeling. That one where everything rubs you the wrong way. The way people talk, the way you get stuck in traffic, the way Myspazz has become this all encompassingly necessity that slowly is driving me insane.

Not too long ago I made a friend that I managed to lose in record time, and the main complaint of his was that I was "never" positive. I take offense to that. I am positive. I fucking WORK MY ASS OFF at being positive. It is key to my survival in my profession. But after weeks of overlooking people's preposterous natures to be dickheads that insist on YOU pleasing them... well, yeah, I break down. There's only so much I can ignore.

The following was written about 5 months ago after yet another fight with yet another person who was speaking words that I'd heard so many people before them say to me. I actually enjoy having that depressed emo-esque emotion hang over my head. It's fantastic for helping one to achieve just a little more insight into who they are. Whoopee. More self-awareness! Just what I need!!

Journals, blogs, etc are essential for helping us get through moments that feel unbearable... or even just the moments where we think we've fallen too far into complacency. I look back on something I wrote during a darker time in my life and laugh uncomfortably at the raw emotion. As Screwy might say... "It's funny because it's true."

Just a few observations from my day.

I have a serious oral fixation. I am constantly putting things in my mouth, lovingly sucking or chewing on them absentmindedly. I've always done it, from the time that I was a little kid, sucking on quarters and listening to my mother scream about how I was going to choke. I started smoking as a senior in high school because it seemed only logical to my dim-witted teenaged mind.

I was born a blonde. In California. Blue eyes, pale skin and golden blonde locks. Life should have been a little fucking easier for me. Isn't that the Californian ideal? To be tanned and sunny looking, with some camera following me around, filming me in slow motion?

Yeah.... for those of you reading this that aren't from California, let me burst that bubble for you right there. I'm a rarity in California. Don't get me wrong, there ARE a good number of blondes that live here, but they're all transplants and their haircolor comes from a bottle. I'm a seventh generation (that can be proven on paper) Californian and I'm blonde to boot. Yet life wasn't as grand as you'll find in copies of US Weekly, on the latest sitcom or in the latest Johnny Knoxville "comedy" clunker. Being blonde in California fucking sucked.

I was at the local bookstore today, flipping through a magazine and fighting off the antsy feeling I get on Fridays. At the table across from me were two women in their late 30s. They each were holding a copy of US Weekly and were cooing to each other over how hot Brad Pitt looked in his state of pending fatherhood. I tried not to laugh too loudly. You see, Brad Pitt does nothing for me. Blue eyes, blond hair, perfect abs? Ick. I prefer my men a little more left of center. A little more off-kilter. Fuck it, I'll just come right out and say it. I dig me an odd man.

Guess what? I managed to severely piss off yet another person in my life. Not that it comes as much of a surprise, pissing people off is kinda my thing. But it sure was amusing for me to discover this information in a blog. I've been told off in so many ways over the course of my lifetime, ranging from avoidance to physical violence, but reading about it in a blog was a first. Yay! Someone give me a patch to sew onto my Dysfunction Girl Scout outfit! Now all I need is the "Spelled out for you on Easter eggs" badge!

And not just in the good way.

Since I've opened up my writing to the public with these blogs, I've been feeling rather inadequate. I've started subscribing to many of my reader's blogs and get this overwhelming feeling that I'm not good enough, that I've so far to go before I can feel like a good enough writer. This Guy in particular makes me feel so sub-par. I've been reading and rereading my stuff, tweaking little things here and there, and it's just so much work. I'm the typical ENFP.... I want things to come easily to me. Working for it is such a drag.