Friday, April 3, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
It's Allen DeGeneres!
I said I was going to do it, I've been told I should, so enjoy. I'm going to start recollecting my coma dreams from this summer here. Everything is still very vivid, but I can't remember the sequence of events very well. I had never expierienced anything so frightful before. There was no escape from these dreams, and they were so real. Not at all distorted or blurry like normal dreams, but so real. But here we go.
Now, when I woke up I had kept saying that I had Ellen DeGeneres as my nurse, but would say that it was really Allen DeGeneres, and that she was a year ahead of me in high school. Let's hear it for that morphine ladies and gentlemen! :D
This in fact, was a mix of two people. Amanda Tierney and Ellen Degeneres.
It started out with me in a bed at CCRI hospital. Thankfully, this place does not exist. lol. I remember there being a heliport on the roof, which may indicate I remembered a bit of the helicopter ride. I was downstairs at the hospital, in a room divided into multiple sections in the form of curtains. Allen was my nurse. Here's the weird part; they were testing a new medication type virus thing called Evangelions, like...you know, that crazily amazing anime series. Allen, during this portion of the dream, acted very much like Katsuragi Misato in the way that she was very serious about her work, but I was drawn to her because she reminded me of Amanda. She was professional yet real. However, that like slowly dissipated as soon as she would not let me leave. I kept asking to leave, and she kept asking where did I plan on going at 2 o'clock in the morning. And even if I did leave, how would I go anywhere? In response to this I looked down at this key holder thing I had, that when I squeezed it would light up, however there was no key inside it. An indication that I had no car. In real life, I had this little squeeze thing on my finger that would light up red when I squeezed it, which is probably why it was incorporated into my dreams. I started to hate Allen. They strapped my hands down, and a bunch of doctors put a blue sheet over me and started probing me. I freaked out and called Allen every name in the book and kept saying "I hate you, I hate you!" As soon as Allen left work for the night, the room became a lot smaller. There was an office looking door with white blinds behind it, reminiscent of a principals office, with a poster of my on it. In real life, there were two posters my friends had made with pictures of me and them all over it. The picture in the center of one of them is the picture I remember pointing to. I futilely tried to convince the India like sitter to untie me and let me go. I kept saying that I was in that poster and I was not meant to be here. In real life, I did have a sitter, and they were primarily Hispanic or Indian or such. This happened after I woke up in the ICU and pulled out my breathing tube and IVs. (idk) So I kept begging her to untie me and finally she just simply said she would not. I finally asked for the rosary beads nearby, and she at least granted me this. I tried to use the rosary beads to escape from my bindings like a knife, but obviously to no avail. Those rosary beads existed in real life and were in fact given to me by Amanda Tierney. Weired. So, hours later, and the room then transformed into a much different version of Amanda's house. And while Allen was still called and looked like Allen, she became Amanda. I was convinced when I woke up that Amanda was a nurse. Amanda cared for her two brothers way older brothers as well who were very sick. I don't know, Amanda has two younger brothers. I remember Allen then leaving a driveway that looked like Ariel's to go get juice or something. I'm sorry, it was confusing for me too, regardless of it's vividity :( Anyways, this is end of dream one, more to come here and there. Sorry for the creappy details and such, it's hard to really make sense of these dreams to this day.
Now, when I woke up I had kept saying that I had Ellen DeGeneres as my nurse, but would say that it was really Allen DeGeneres, and that she was a year ahead of me in high school. Let's hear it for that morphine ladies and gentlemen! :D
This in fact, was a mix of two people. Amanda Tierney and Ellen Degeneres.
It started out with me in a bed at CCRI hospital. Thankfully, this place does not exist. lol. I remember there being a heliport on the roof, which may indicate I remembered a bit of the helicopter ride. I was downstairs at the hospital, in a room divided into multiple sections in the form of curtains. Allen was my nurse. Here's the weird part; they were testing a new medication type virus thing called Evangelions, like...you know, that crazily amazing anime series. Allen, during this portion of the dream, acted very much like Katsuragi Misato in the way that she was very serious about her work, but I was drawn to her because she reminded me of Amanda. She was professional yet real. However, that like slowly dissipated as soon as she would not let me leave. I kept asking to leave, and she kept asking where did I plan on going at 2 o'clock in the morning. And even if I did leave, how would I go anywhere? In response to this I looked down at this key holder thing I had, that when I squeezed it would light up, however there was no key inside it. An indication that I had no car. In real life, I had this little squeeze thing on my finger that would light up red when I squeezed it, which is probably why it was incorporated into my dreams. I started to hate Allen. They strapped my hands down, and a bunch of doctors put a blue sheet over me and started probing me. I freaked out and called Allen every name in the book and kept saying "I hate you, I hate you!" As soon as Allen left work for the night, the room became a lot smaller. There was an office looking door with white blinds behind it, reminiscent of a principals office, with a poster of my on it. In real life, there were two posters my friends had made with pictures of me and them all over it. The picture in the center of one of them is the picture I remember pointing to. I futilely tried to convince the India like sitter to untie me and let me go. I kept saying that I was in that poster and I was not meant to be here. In real life, I did have a sitter, and they were primarily Hispanic or Indian or such. This happened after I woke up in the ICU and pulled out my breathing tube and IVs. (idk) So I kept begging her to untie me and finally she just simply said she would not. I finally asked for the rosary beads nearby, and she at least granted me this. I tried to use the rosary beads to escape from my bindings like a knife, but obviously to no avail. Those rosary beads existed in real life and were in fact given to me by Amanda Tierney. Weired. So, hours later, and the room then transformed into a much different version of Amanda's house. And while Allen was still called and looked like Allen, she became Amanda. I was convinced when I woke up that Amanda was a nurse. Amanda cared for her two brothers way older brothers as well who were very sick. I don't know, Amanda has two younger brothers. I remember Allen then leaving a driveway that looked like Ariel's to go get juice or something. I'm sorry, it was confusing for me too, regardless of it's vividity :( Anyways, this is end of dream one, more to come here and there. Sorry for the creappy details and such, it's hard to really make sense of these dreams to this day.
Monday, March 30, 2009
"Honeys if your gay...
...burn it up, like a gay parade"
I am scared. I am scared to be true to myself and just be gay. I thought that I just hated clubs, and had no interest in going to gay themed places...but after talking with a friend today, I think I'm going to take that step. I will be consumed by depression if I do not take this step, this leap of courage to be who I am. I don't want to end up like the others who go through countless months and years of torture until they finally come to terms with their sexuality and find happiness. But I am frightened. I am petrified. I always thought I wasn't afraid to be myself. I am petrified. I act like it's a fucking life sentence. I always thought it wasn't a big part of me. I guess it's not a big part of everyone, it's just who they are...I'm so scared. I need this though. I need gay friends. I love my friends, but they can't relate to me regarding anything with my sexuality. They can be supportive and offer advice, but on what experience is their advice based upon? It seems so meaningless. Come May I am going to do this. I have to.
I am scared. I am scared to be true to myself and just be gay. I thought that I just hated clubs, and had no interest in going to gay themed places...but after talking with a friend today, I think I'm going to take that step. I will be consumed by depression if I do not take this step, this leap of courage to be who I am. I don't want to end up like the others who go through countless months and years of torture until they finally come to terms with their sexuality and find happiness. But I am frightened. I am petrified. I always thought I wasn't afraid to be myself. I am petrified. I act like it's a fucking life sentence. I always thought it wasn't a big part of me. I guess it's not a big part of everyone, it's just who they are...I'm so scared. I need this though. I need gay friends. I love my friends, but they can't relate to me regarding anything with my sexuality. They can be supportive and offer advice, but on what experience is their advice based upon? It seems so meaningless. Come May I am going to do this. I have to.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Fly Me To The Moon...
...And Let Me Play, Among The Stars
God...I can't sleep.
My mind turns over and over...literally racing at a pace of 10000 miles per minute. Sometimes I question why I even have a blog in the first place...I wonder; "What is the point in having a blog if no one is going to read it." And I would link my blog on Facebook or some other type of networking site...well...there really aren't any, but I'd like to think that I'm doing this more for myself than anyone else. I wouldn't really like 500+ people to have access to the most intricate details of my daily existence. I guess you can make posts private...somehow.
Hm. My Cat's twitching...
I really should start sleeping. I really really should.
I think I'm a bit of an outsider...some people may call it unique, but being unique generally places you on the outside I think. Is it so weird to be bisexual/gay and not have any desire to go to a gay bar and still not be a complete introvert? Sometimes I think that I'm having too good a time with my friends down in Gansett to really care. Which brings me to my next point:
Why does ones homosexuality define them?
I just find it increasingly apparent that many gay men tend to wear their homosexuality like a robe. Sure, they may have other dreams and aspirations, but first and foremost their identity is inextricably linked to their homosexuality. It's almost as if it's its own living, tangible being. I always get a look as if my neck is hosting an extra head whenever I say I haven't been to a gay club and know that I really would not enjoy myself at one. Whomever I say this to always offers the "don't knock it till' you've tried it" defense. I just have no desire whatsoever to try it. And when I explain that I'm sure I wouldn't meet someone worth meeting at a club/gay club, they defend this sacred place of dance with a sentence akin to "well you don't go there to find Mr.Right" So If I'm not going to meet anyone worth meeting there, why am I going in the first place? I just don't find clubs to be all that fun. Parties, sure. Random adventures, sure. Long drives, sure. Going out, sure. But I would like to think someday I'd meet someone on my own, at a place that does not promote the mass consumption of alcohol. And that's half the problem with meeting gay guys in real life. You can never assume someone is gay. If you are a straight man or woman, you can simply walk up to someone and offer your number without the fear of that person not playing for the same team, ultimately making you look like an idiot. This is why they have so many gay themed events, and I'm just not so into the community that I would really be inclined to attend these events. Not to mention the fact that I haven't even ruled out the possibility that I may infact like women. And this is why I am still awake at 2:30 in the morning when I have to be up at 8:30.
What is the point in writing your thoughts if no one is to read it?
God...I can't sleep.
My mind turns over and over...literally racing at a pace of 10000 miles per minute. Sometimes I question why I even have a blog in the first place...I wonder; "What is the point in having a blog if no one is going to read it." And I would link my blog on Facebook or some other type of networking site...well...there really aren't any, but I'd like to think that I'm doing this more for myself than anyone else. I wouldn't really like 500+ people to have access to the most intricate details of my daily existence. I guess you can make posts private...somehow.
Hm. My Cat's twitching...
I really should start sleeping. I really really should.
I think I'm a bit of an outsider...some people may call it unique, but being unique generally places you on the outside I think. Is it so weird to be bisexual/gay and not have any desire to go to a gay bar and still not be a complete introvert? Sometimes I think that I'm having too good a time with my friends down in Gansett to really care. Which brings me to my next point:
Why does ones homosexuality define them?
I just find it increasingly apparent that many gay men tend to wear their homosexuality like a robe. Sure, they may have other dreams and aspirations, but first and foremost their identity is inextricably linked to their homosexuality. It's almost as if it's its own living, tangible being. I always get a look as if my neck is hosting an extra head whenever I say I haven't been to a gay club and know that I really would not enjoy myself at one. Whomever I say this to always offers the "don't knock it till' you've tried it" defense. I just have no desire whatsoever to try it. And when I explain that I'm sure I wouldn't meet someone worth meeting at a club/gay club, they defend this sacred place of dance with a sentence akin to "well you don't go there to find Mr.Right" So If I'm not going to meet anyone worth meeting there, why am I going in the first place? I just don't find clubs to be all that fun. Parties, sure. Random adventures, sure. Long drives, sure. Going out, sure. But I would like to think someday I'd meet someone on my own, at a place that does not promote the mass consumption of alcohol. And that's half the problem with meeting gay guys in real life. You can never assume someone is gay. If you are a straight man or woman, you can simply walk up to someone and offer your number without the fear of that person not playing for the same team, ultimately making you look like an idiot. This is why they have so many gay themed events, and I'm just not so into the community that I would really be inclined to attend these events. Not to mention the fact that I haven't even ruled out the possibility that I may infact like women. And this is why I am still awake at 2:30 in the morning when I have to be up at 8:30.
What is the point in writing your thoughts if no one is to read it?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
" 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown"
I'm about to lose it. I can feel myself falling to pieces. Over everything. I'm on the verge of a breakdown. Why can't I just love myself? Almost everyone I know loves me, so why can't I love myself? My friends are baffled by how down I am on myself lately, and no, it's not self pity. I just say how and what I feel. And lately I feel like I just can't do anything. And the more I think about it the stronger an urge I get to throw up. It's like I can see my world crumbling around me and the pieces aren't even worth picking up...I should probably seek "professional" help, but I've never found one who actually worked. Sometimes it's like they are trying to dig for a deeper meaning and cause that isn't really there. I'm not suicidal, not by any means, I just feel like I can't do much of anything anymore. I can't love, I can't act, I can't sing, I can't do math, I can't write, I can't fit in, I can't be happy I can't I can't I can't. I talk to two of my closest friends about all of this and they literally never thought I felt this way. They think I'm a catch, I can sing, math blows, I'm an excellent writer, and I'm the life of the party. But it's like I hear the words, but when they reach my brain they have no meaning. Just empty syllables and sound. Words without meaning. Words that can't fill the desolate emptiness that plagues my inner self and intangible mortality. I have to go take my math test...
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I really hate myself
I hate myself.
I want to love myself
But I hate myself.
Lately, this all encompassing self doubt and hatred has enraptured me. Everything that I am to do, I just feel like I'm not good enough. I somehow landed a role in the school's production of "Moonchildren". I have two lines. I should be happy, right? But in my opinion, the audition went so terrible that he simply gave me a pity part because I was THAT bad. This put me in a slump and I just feel like I can't act very well. I used to be so uninhibited. Maybe the fear comes from the fact that I feel ugly, and that I'm not good or attractive enough physically. Or that I feel socially awkward. Or that I don't have a game plan anymore. Or that I'm probably still in love with someone who I'll never have. Or that I have no gay friends. I don't think the whole Internet dating thing helps my self esteem. I photograph badly, and I'm a little overweight. Yes I've lost a ton of weight, but I hate my body. I don't even know how I would handle a relationship right now. But it would be cool to at least have a gay friend nearby. Ha, this is West Greenwich. I tend to ramble, not that anyone reads this. I just compare myself to everyone all the time, and then I think I'm not good, and it's bad. I feel like shit about myself constantly. I don't know...I'm too tired to make comprehensive sentences right now.
I want to love myself
But I hate myself.
Lately, this all encompassing self doubt and hatred has enraptured me. Everything that I am to do, I just feel like I'm not good enough. I somehow landed a role in the school's production of "Moonchildren". I have two lines. I should be happy, right? But in my opinion, the audition went so terrible that he simply gave me a pity part because I was THAT bad. This put me in a slump and I just feel like I can't act very well. I used to be so uninhibited. Maybe the fear comes from the fact that I feel ugly, and that I'm not good or attractive enough physically. Or that I feel socially awkward. Or that I don't have a game plan anymore. Or that I'm probably still in love with someone who I'll never have. Or that I have no gay friends. I don't think the whole Internet dating thing helps my self esteem. I photograph badly, and I'm a little overweight. Yes I've lost a ton of weight, but I hate my body. I don't even know how I would handle a relationship right now. But it would be cool to at least have a gay friend nearby. Ha, this is West Greenwich. I tend to ramble, not that anyone reads this. I just compare myself to everyone all the time, and then I think I'm not good, and it's bad. I feel like shit about myself constantly. I don't know...I'm too tired to make comprehensive sentences right now.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Escalating emotions and fustrations
Why, oh why, do bad things happen to good people? I know, I KNOW, we've all heard this phrase before to the point that it's use in every day life seems so cliched, like it's lost it's genuine meaning, by why does it happen? Does god, put us through these things in order to test us? Is there a greater reward at the end? I'd like to think so. I'd like to think that one day there will be such a big jackpot at the end of all these thorns. I do my part. I keep the environment clean, I'm there for those in need, I truly am! I talk to those who need it, I've even saved lives for people who weren't all that nice to me in school. I always volunteer to be the DD. I think i'm a genuinely nice person! So why did God decide to throw me in front of an eighteen wheeler? I've certainley gained many lessons from the experience, and rekindled some old friendships. By once I left the hospital doors, it just seemed to all go downhill. My Dad want's me to pay him 250 dollars towards the car that I got...while that seems reasonable...it kind of seems like after the HELL i've been through I deserve something. These last 19 years of my life aside, just these past 5 months qualifies a reward! It was he who wanted me to get good grades. I was freaking out because I failed my first math test and the second 4.0 I was about to recieve was in jeapordy. That's why I even got into the accident in the first place! So because I got into the accident because of him, I now need to take the measly ammount of money I can squander and hand it over to him, to learn a lesson? What lesson would that be exactly? This is what you get for trying to make me proud? That I can't say "I'm proud of you" but I can pester you for money? I'm just so fed up with all of it. I need a cellphone because mine broke in order to keep in contact with my boss in order to pay him back, and I'm sure he will add another 50 onto my "tab". My Mom can't afford it, and god bless her I know she's trying. Theres just no talking to my dad. If he decides it, that's how it is. I know I should be thankful, but I don't think I need more stress ontop of the stress I've already recieved. Which brings me to my next point;
Why did God save me? Anyone else would have died. And if they were so lucky as to survive, they would have had severe life changing injuries. I pray that I will find, and achive what ever life potential that God wants me to achieve, because I don't want to waste the life that I was given...I'll write more tommorow. I'm getting all worked up...I can see how this will be addicting.
Why did God save me? Anyone else would have died. And if they were so lucky as to survive, they would have had severe life changing injuries. I pray that I will find, and achive what ever life potential that God wants me to achieve, because I don't want to waste the life that I was given...I'll write more tommorow. I'm getting all worked up...I can see how this will be addicting.
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