Thursday, May 28, 2009

solicited distractions

I desperately need to fall in love. With some music.
gotcha.

I have been pretty diligent in keeping myself occupied, but it is my nature to be overflowing with an ardent, insatiable 13-year-old's passion to pour enthusiam into things and it would probably be best if that thing were something intangible to worship. To keep my mind and tongue sharp I need to keep my throbbing heart furiously busy elsewhere. A devotion-worthy band is an outlet that hasn't let me down yet. It's so pure and clean and inexhaustible in its unrequitedness-- something I can't burn out. I think an object of intoxicating beauty that pulls my heart towards its cage of ribs so mercilessly that my brain hums and my stomach turns would help a lot of my problems.

I'm not even kidding

So, crazyinternetbitches.com is NOT taken.
I know, I totally could not believe it either! I use the phrase "crazy internet bitches" at least 10 times a day.

Ok, so, here's the deal, I think we can all agree this is the most awesome idea for an internet dating site ever. The beauty is the simplicity: who else populates dating sites BESIDES crazy internet bitches anyway? Exactly! It's cutting straight to the chase. And I know that all the dudes out there are really just looking for a crazy internet bitch. All the guys I know are ALWAYS dating crazy bitches. In fact, craziness and bitchiness are the two major qualities that will cause any dude to fall desperately in love with a girl. Try it, you'll see!
I can already think of DOZENS of people that should either be on this site or would want to date women on it.
Somebody, please get on this.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Druidess minx in a labcoat

So this interweb dating thing has a feature that suggests other members that have things in common with the one you are currently viewing. Sort of like, "if you like nerdygamerboy, try nerdygamerboy who goes outside sometimes!" Similar, but different.

Out of (narcissistic) curiosity I checked out what chicks are in my orbit. They are, in order: girls that are less sex-driven, less spiritual, less scientific, more old-fashioned, more old-fashioned, less kinky, and less sex-driven.

What algorithm are they using here? Are there seriously no sex-crazed internet skanks that are more kinky? I talk a big game, but I didn't actually think I was that raunchy. And there are no girls that are more spiritual? How is that possible? I mean, I guess I am pretty spiritual when I come to think of it, but superlatively spiritual? Also, scientific? I don't actually doubt this one, but I'm surprised that it is even a variable. Who is like, "I like so-and-so alright, but she'd be way better if she did/didn't know her way around the periodic table! Damn!"

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Some DTR...

... for people who will probably not read this.

Hey, Crazies: You are out of your flipping mind. Please go fester in your special brand of craziness elsewhere. I'm not sure what about me made you think that I would be receptive to your various neuroses, but you, as you are about many things, are ever so wrong.

Dear Wayward Acquaintances: You seem to feel no urgency in returning my correspondences, nor I yours. Perhaps I overwhelm you a bit. Unfortunately, this assumption of mine makes me even less likely to try to contact you, in turn. I'm quite certain, however, that if we resumed our tentative friendship it would pick up where it left off and be rather pleasant. Stalemate.

Oh, Select Favorites: Despite our differences, I very much enjoy your company. For whatever reason you seem to accept or be amused by my spiky defects in return for my moments of affectionate camaraderie. I hope you persevere in this patient attitude because I am undergoing an uprecendented phase of soul-consuming predatory behavior via the internet on which you met me (see above). On that magical day when the dust settles, you may very well be the last man standing.

Monday, May 11, 2009

new title?!?

weirdo: blah blah something about cutting blah
me: Cutting? GOD. That's so 90's. It's totally the poor girl's eating disorder.
me: Hey...poorgirlseatingdisorder.com!!!! Do you think it's taken!?!?

best. blog title. ever.
And no, it's not taken.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Statistically, It's not looking so hot

20: Estimated number of cute, scruffy, brown-eyed boys in Dallas.
6: Number of cute, scruffy, brown-eyed boys in Dallas that I know personally.
3: Number of cute, scruffy, brown-eyed boys in Dallas that I know personally and are available and do not appear severely mentally unhinged.
0-1: Number of cute, scruffy, brown-eyed boys in Dallas that I know personally and are probably ACTUALLY not severely mentally unhinged as opposed to faking well-adjustedness.

Friday, May 1, 2009

bones and lionesses

I've been spending a lot of my recumbent recuperation time thinking about my bones.
Wait, that sounds kinds of morbid. Start over.

Ok, so I've been sick-- just a cold, calm down-- off and on for pushing a month now and in this span of time I've lost, like, ten pounds. I'm pretty neutral on this occurrence.


Anyway, my body was already changing before that. A year older, new ink, and refined derby and yoga muscles sneaking and settling into prime position.

Only now I can see and feel this new structure.

I am sometimes surprised at my own strength, literal and figurative, but there is an unusual satisfaction in being able to see and feel the mechanism behind it-- particularly since most of my sureness of identity stems from artifice and creativity: hair, gesture, tone, costume, gait, language. Things I can control.

A note about my physiology, I carry weight pretty evenly all over my body. This works out great when I gain weight. Instead of accumulating in awkward places, it settles across my face, elbows, knees, back. My skeleton has aways been carefully concealed by a light cocoon, pleasantly even and supple, but generally the important stuff is folded away out of sight and tactility.

Now my architecture is displayed like a skyscraper, defiantly rigid against a pale, temperate sky. Stark. Modern. All upward thrust, progress. Will over physics.


These new muscles, these old bones that were hidden from me.

There is a novel, thumb-sized hollow next to my kneecap when I bend my leg at an obtuse angle. There is a strange, taut tangle of muscle the size of my palm on the top of each thigh which was formerly an undifferentiated expanse of hamstring and epidermis. I have a delicate pair of knobs perched ladylike and ovoid like bird's eggs on my wrists.

The broad, heavy spread of my hip bones is strange and precious like the archaeologist's prized skull: a mysterious artifact of an ancient and fearsome creature. The curves are audacious in their sure, solid thickness and yawn wide enough to cradle a fist.

Rather than exposed, I feel unveiled like the Sphinx unfettered from centuries of sand.