I am so unimpressed with Xanga right now.  The updating of the password is just the final straw.

My premium expires at the end of the month and I will not be renewing it.  It really pisses me off that I have subscribed to premium since it started and have paid more to have it than someone who wants to buy premium lifetime today.  I think that the xanga team would generate a lot more goodwill in the blogging community if they would offer longtime premium users a break on the lifetime subscription to premium.  Afterall, xanga is no longer the only game out there.  There are many other blogging communities and many other ways to have the same features for much less than what is charged here.  I guess the convenience is supposed to be worth it, but it isn't for me.  Besides, I rarely post here any longer, and despite how often I try to fix it, I only get one subscription emailed to me.  The subscription feature hasn't worked for any of the other blogs I read, for over two years.

Xanga, I was with you guys from early on, but I don't think you are worth it anymore.

Do you ever feel as if you are a foreigner in your own body?  I feel as if I don't fit and it is really uncomfortable.  I really hate myself.

White Picket Fences is a very interesting article.  I need to reread it several times and allow the full impact into my heart.

I edited this out of a letter I was writing to someone.  I decided that I just couldn't send it, but it was something that I wanted to save and think about some more.

The description of "too depressing" has been used for me, along with "too clingy" and "too needy".  Never was it suggested that I seek out psychiatric help, despite evidence of serious depressive episodes which started showing up when I was 3 years old.   Even when I was being treated for bulemia and anoerexia, they were seen as the cause of my depression rather than the other way around.  The descriptions of my personality led me to isolate myself, bury my feelings and deny my rights to happiness and even God's salvation.  I wasn't good enough, I never will be good enough.  If people get to know the real me, they will see the black spot on my sole that will scare them away from me.  Since I can't deal with anymore rejection, I want to be the first to reject.  I liken myself to an armadillo, curling up into a hard ball at the first sign that I might have to open up. 

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life ’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

The words of Macbeth, written by William Shakespeare.  Of all his plays and sonnets that I read, studied or saw performed, this passage has stayed with me the longest.  Perhaps because even at 15, this was the best description of life as I saw it.  Invariably, I always come back to this as my cornerstone definition of life.

What is NORMAL?  Who defined it?  Who decided who was, and who wasn't normal?  Who tattoed LOSER on my forehead?

A quote that I found on Night Owl Craftes:

"Without art the crudeness of reality would make life unbearable."

How very true!

A question...What would you do?

Scenario:  Office building lobby, no public washrooms, in front of the elevators.  A woman arrives with a young child, the child coughs and without warning throws up.  What do you do?  

A laugh and look away?

B Ignore the whole situation and get on the next elevator to arrive, even though it is going down to the aprking levels?

C Give mother a disgusted look and glare at child to register disdain?

D Offer to help, even if it is to offer a Kleenex to help clean child's hands?

When this happened yesterday, to Maryssa and I, nobody chose D but in the crowded lobby, all 3 of the other options were chosen.  Nobody offered my a Kleenex to help me to clean up her hands, which she had tried to catch it with.  And the looks we got when we tried to get onto an elevator to get up to our floor, where there was a bathroom, were evil.  I was expecting someone to suggest that we should wait for our "own" elevator.

The good part is that when we got up to our floor, she cleaned up well and was feeling much better the rest of the day, and I know what I will do the next time I see that happen near me.  Also, there was a janitor in the lobby, who I was able to inform and he got right on cleaning up the mess.  (And I got the guilty pleasure of seeing one woman, who was pretending this wasn't happening near her, despite flinching when Maryssa threw up, get her shoe heel coated in the stuff.)  The joys of dealing with other people in day to day living.  I think I would rather live in the deep woods instead.

 
HOW TO HANDLE STRESS

1. Jam 19 tiny marshmallows up your nose and try to sneeze
them out.

2. Use your Mastercard to pay your Visa.

3. Pop some popcorn without putting the lid on.

4. When someone says "Have a nice day!" tell them you had
other plans.

5. Forget the diet-center and send yourself a candy-gram.

6. Make a list of things that you have already done.

7. Put your toddler's clothes on backwards and send him to
nursery school as if nothing was wrong.

8. Leaf through National Geographic and draw clothes on the
natives.

9. Go shopping, buy everything, sweat in it, and return it
the next day.

10. Pay your electric bill in pennies.

11. Drive to work in reverse.

12. Dance naked in front of your pets.

13. Bill your doctor for time spent in the waiting room.

14. Tattoo "Out To Lunch" on your forehead.

15. Refresh yourself; put your tongue on a cold, steel
guardrail.

16. Read the dictionary backwards and look for subliminal
messages.

17. Start a nasty rumor and see if you recognize it when it
gets back to you.

18. Write a short story using alphabet soup.

19. Stare at people through the lines of a fork and pretend
they are in jail.

20. Make up a language and ask people for directions.

21. Retaliate for tax woes by filing your tax forms with
Roman numerals.

What is reality?  Is what I see as real, the same as what you see?  Do you see LOSER tattooed on my forehead?

It is strange that I have lived that past few years making a real effort to be invisible again.  Now, I am afraid that being invisible is going to pull me back into the abyss that I have tried to escape.  I no longer have anywhere to turn.  Nobody wants to hear me, of even acknowledge that I am in pain.  Nobody knows what is running inside my head.  Nobody knows how strong the desire is to just leave it all behind.  There are voices inside telling me just how bad I am, and yet I can still look back and see some sunshine.  I don't feel it.  And there is a very thick pane of glass between me and everyone else, but I can still remember that it once was there.  I don't want to fight for its return anymore.  I simply wish to step out of this existance and into...?  I don't know if there is a place to step into anymore.

Oh, the moon report... 35 out of 35.