This subject changed.

Beyond irritated tonight. Like beyoooond. I'm so done with this place. This is bullshit.

First off, to someone special, GO FUCK YOURSELF. I'm so sick and tired of this crap I hafta deal with because of you. Never talk to me again. I'm so glad I didn't see you this weekend or I would've probably punched your face in.

Secondly, I'm tired. Very, very tired.

But...

Thirdly...

This weekend is most likely going to rock. Rave on Friday seeing some of my RIT loves (<3) but only if I don't pass out from working 7 days straight. Saturday I'm hanging out with Mr. (insert a witty nickname for him here), then Monday someone comes to visit for a few days!! Killwhitneydead is on Tuesday as well, which is going to be fabulous.

I got my independent study on Bertrand Russell for my final semester. I'm starting it now because it's gonna take that long. I'm psyched but it's gonna be a lot of work. I hafta read 7 of his books, including his Nobel prize winning one: The History of Western Philosophy. Ouch, but it's gonna be so worth it.

I really wish I had a rant for tonight, I really wish... but I wrote a poem tonight about drugs and how a certain someone makes me feel. Like,

"The pot smoke that crawls through my
lungs, that makes me gasp for breath, I
find myself feeling this sensation like
your kiss.

Your lips are so full, so plump, they remind me of
a peach, as I lick and kiss them softly, sweetly, as
if afraid to break the skin, the delicate skin, which
pot smoke has traveled through so many times..."

It's a really rough draft, since I just got the idea at work tonight and wrote a sketch down. I love when you start rambling on in your thoughts and one just pops out at you. That's what happened to me. This is the first time I've gotten around to writing for the hell of it this summer. I should send this to my poetry teacher, I think she might like this poem...

"...and that is why Ecstasy is the prime factor; the main
factor; the one true factor. Marijuana, alcohol, Special
K all adds up to this blurred, whirlwind of emotion. The
kisses intensify, the touch of your hands makes my body sweat
even more so then the ecstasy which is dilating my

pupils, making my heart beat faster, making me remember that
this is all too real, try and calm down. But no, keep going, go
faster, harder. Do you, you have to. The kisses, the touch, the feel
of you pressed up against me, and then you look at me..."

Writing tonight, even writing this, has made me feel better. I still want to go to bed though, because I feel like I am invisible in this household, absolutly have no say in anything. My posessions are worthless, my opinions thrown out the window. I'm only good to get yelled at for things I didn't do. Fuck this. But somehow, thinking about him makes everything okay. Especially when he rubs his cheek aganist mine, when we're driving in his car and he'll look over and smile, that grin he gets when I do something silly...

We'll never be, but at least we still have each other when he's in town. Him and his hands that search my body, as if looking for buried treasure. Him and that smile that will always spark when I'm around...

God, I wish he wasn't sleeping right now. I wish he was up here, and not all the way down there. But this weekend, after he comes home, I'm going to see him, and I can feel his breath aganist me once again...

"...in the eye. Brown on Brown. Boy on Girl. And the world
stops, and all I can hear is my heart beating. Your hands are on my
thighs, your lips are pressed together, your eyes are staring into
my soul.

I want you, I want this. Whether on or off drugs, this is
you, and me. This is us. Our own fantasy, where the sky is
green, the clouds are not stained with rain, and the pills are
plentiful. This is it. This is our world, my world, my own."

I fucking told you it's really rough!! It'll get better though, my writing will intensify and knock your fucking teeth out.

I'm really starting to think about possibly teaching writing. I'm a little unsure about that though, but a lot of doors are opened to me... I just have to choose the right one...

Rhetoric, Publishing, Writing... what one do I choose?

My mind is starting to drift, I can feel it starting to slip into slumber mode...

wait...

"Okay... now the monster is awake.... it won't rest until there's nothing left... maybe ever and anon... i forget about the pain... some bending light comes along... and flowers lean towards the sun... some people fall in love and touch the sky... some people fall in love and touch the sky... some people fall in love and find quicksand... i'm somewhere in between... i swear... i can't make up my mind..." -Incubus, Quicksand

I love having these moments.

Yesturday, after my Philosophy of Education class, I had an "aha!" moment. We are starting to touch on female philosophers, which is what I have been meaning to get into, but have been so busy I have not had the chance, until now.

I have been known to be a liberatarian when it comes to political views, libertarian with a left wing twist. We were talking about Mary Wollstonecraft, who was a libertarian herself. I went up to my teacher and started asking her questions about Mary. She smiled and said I should look into Emma Goldman, who we are going to talk about next week. So, after the class ended, I scooted to the library where I checked out one of her books.

I think I have found my new favorite philosopher. Nietzsche and Russell are my two main favorites, but Goldman... holy shit. She did stuff that I have always wanted to do. Which is when I had my "aha" moment. A female anarchist atheist who didn't call herself a feminist but fought very passionalty for female rights. BINGO.

I wrote a 4 page rant a few weeks back on how much Christanity is complete bullshit, and how females should not take societys shit anymore. I'm still editing it, but after I feel confident enough to publish it, I hope to throw it out there. It angers me so much that the gimmick that McCain has chosen to be his Vice President is a female... but is not for female rights. Please, do not insult my intelligence. Sarah is NO Hillary. I would rather have Hillary then Sarah. Hillary actually fights for female rights, not aganist them. I just don't get it why females aren't for protecting their rights. It boggles my mind.

I was up until 330am conversing a few texts with my ex-fiance who decided to text me last night. It got me thinking to when I started getting this way with everything. I know when I was a teenager it started, but it was mostly teenage angst. It was after I was constantly screwed over by men that I started to group my thoughts, and started fighting for a cause. I have a reason to rant, to fight. I am constantly looking for the truth. Religion is not truth. The government is a lie. Don't live for anyone else, but yourself.

I refuse to be silent anymore. As the days go by, more and more do I feel the need to freakin yell at the top of my lungs about how fucking retarded our country, our world is being. I want to help change it. I want to try and open eyes to see what is happening. It's like Platos Cave. I have been set free from the cave, seen the truth, and want to tell the fuckers still mesmorized by the shadows on the wall to turn around, come with me, see the truth. Stop living in a fantasy world and start living in reality. Wake up, take a chance, break free.

"Someone has said that it requires less mental effort to condemn than to think."
THINK: It's Not Illegeal Yet.