traumagirl

I have to figure out how to market myself better. I know I was thinking about using traumagirl as my tv journal, but I really can't. I don't want my friends or family to know about it really. It's too personal.

Not personal enough to hide, but personal enough to keep them from finding it. God, my mother would be bitching about every other thing in there. It's hard enough to write in this thing when I know Frank's watching.

I've started this daily updating of facebook on the things I watch. I want a blog that's all about my views on tv and movies that I have to update every time I see something. And daily. I can even have a works in progress section, and an edited "Finished essays" section.

But I need things. Mainly, knowledge in html. I feel bad asking Sharelle about this, but I think she knows more about it than I do.

I should go off and find a website service that won't make my blog just one in a million.

This is never going to work.

But, theoretically, if it does, then I can just write it EVERYWHERE. On the end of comments I leave, on my facebook, give it to people to give to others.

And it won't be like livejournal, something I need to hide. Or facebook, where my thoughts just get lost in the crowd.

I recently allowed myself a calming remedy. But it's not really calming.

I'm freaking out.

Really bad.

My crush from school just added me on facebook. And I accepted it. If I unfriended him, he'd know.

What was I thinking?!

I'm not sane. I'm not sane.

I'm not sane.

Oh, my god. They're going to have to put me on pills for this.

I'm freaking out.

I'm watching Van Wilder and pretending I'm as happy as I was that night I watched American Pie 6 or 5 or something where they did the russian roulette with horse cum.

It was a great movie. I got sucked into the contest. I desired the camaraderie. I wanted friends like that.

How am I supposed to be a person, for the love of God? I recently got a pair of lesbian friends and they're very nice people. But I feel like I am a complete weirdo. But in that way, I don't know what to talk about except weird shit. I find myself babbling out random trivia that I've learned recently.

"I recently downloaded a guide to killing a person with the weapons of your body. For instance, do you know that the karate chop move is a great move because that part of the hand is called the blade of your hand."

Who the fuck wants to know that except me?

"I love doing anything that I'm told not to do. I want to join the NRA. I want to vote for Palin. Frank would kill me if I did that. Have you seen the porn about her? I can burn it on dvd for you if you want to see it."

I'm a freak.

I'm a freak.

Frank's gonna come home any second. I'm just gonna hit post when he does, so I may get cut off in thought.

I'm really worried about the kind of person I appear to be to people. I try to take solace in the fact that I'm one of a kind. And people love to know someone who is like no one else.

But I'm starting to freak out. People don't actually like weirdos. You see it in reality shows all the time. Weirdos are WEIRD!!!

But weirdos have a cult following. Not the mainstream. But how do you find cults?

*breathes*

Okay. I'm stepping outside myself a little and thinking about this. I'm sorta funny is what I am. Like it's funny. I'm funny, right? I mean, that's probably what it looks like every time I go on about TV. It's cute.

It's like... Oh, my God, I'm girl humor.

ICK!!!

Shit, shit, shit.

If anything, MAYBE I'll have a huge gay following.

I'm like Kathy Griffin. I'm like .... Tina Fey. A shower will never clean that off. I want to kill myself. I want to be guy humor...

Wait, since I do focus on horror, action, sex, etc... I could possibly go into some dark red & black tones and put up lots of sexy redhead pics. That would make me into almost porno-like. Like penthouse letters. Or Elvira. Elvira's guy humor!

I just gotta have an angle.

LOOK AT THIS MOMENT OF CLARITY, HAPPENING BEFORE YOUR EYES. THIS IS LIVE ACTION.

I'm obsessed with being real and seeing the real side in other people through television. Like how sometimes the characters become vegetarian because the actor talks the producer into it so they can push their uber-vegan agenda. Like Pamela Anderson always slips in a Peta moral into Stripperella episodes.

It's like it becomes totally obvious this is a real person you're seeing on TV and it's kinda thrilling. Wow, there's Pamela Anderson walking around on a real beach somewhere in Baywatch. She's a real person, with real feet burning in the sand. And there's a producer and a director and a writer and it's crazy.

Oooh, when I was a kid, I used to be really good at noticing in movies these little continuity errors. Like when in one shot the orange juice glass would be half full, then go to nearly empty, and back to half full.

It's hilarious. It's like, "JUICE WRANGLER! FIRED!"

Or when the clocks change times, because no one thought the clock should be off.

I prefer when that happens. I like thinking of TV as video theater. When it's as if we're looking in on someone's life and this is a videotaping of it, I always feel dirty. Voyeuristic.

I hate Fringe. I want to yell at someone who likes it. It's awful and I hate those dumb fucking city titles that look like they're part of the land. It's dumb.

I just remembered what I was panicking about. I don't have any way to be with people.

But I guess I am a character.

I feel like an alien.

I have different emotions than you humans.

And I honestly believe that I've made you all up.

I'm detached from the world in that way. And so is Frank. And I think I'm making him even more like that.

I think he loves me because I'm so rare. I'm like a thinking, working robot. Well, not so much working. And he's fascinated by the things I say.

Maybe I'm a sociopath. No. I care about people. But couldn't there be different kinds of sociopaths?

Maybe I have asbergers! ....Pills.

I need to train myself how to be with people and what to talk about.

But no one else seems to know what to talk about, that's why I talk so much. I keep bringing up new topics so that we never stop talking.

I probably talk too much. No, I know I do.

I can't believe Joshua added me on facebook. I just...

It makes me remember probably the most damaging moment of my life. I hadn't thought about it in years. Even when I did think about him, it was when we were in kindergarten and I was happy. You knew what to do then. You made up games to keep busy and keep moving. You asked each other your favorite color. You recap favorite sentences you memorized from your tv shows. "so rude!!" You sang songs when someone said they wanted to sing a song.

I just kinda miss it being as easy as that.

Anyways, back in middle school, I was tired of all my friends having boyfriends and I didn't. I wound up making up one named Mark from a nearby middle school, I was so dumb. Uglier girls than me had boyfriends, why didn't I deserve one?

Anyways, I always was friendly with Joshua and I thought he might want to try out that whole dating thing with me. Never did it, why not with my best male friend. We always waved to each other when we left on the bus. He was a really great guy.

So I asked him out, and I had no plan. None. I planned to ask him out. Period. I asked him if he wanted to go out.

He asked where.

What?! Follow up question?! SHIT!!!

Movies??

When?

I DON'T KNOW. SHIT. I NEVER EVEN ASKED MY MOM IF I COULD GO OUT THIS WEEKEND. SHIT.

Friday??

"I'm going to my grandma's."

THANK GOD! AN OUT! RUN!

"Oh, okay. Well maybe we can talk about it monday."

"Yeah, sure."

Then I ran away.

Yes, I had asked him out and technically he was up for it. I said, "You wanna go out?" That's a fucking date, right? So I technically had a boyfriend ALL WEEKEND.

That's right. First boyfriend. I was rocking it.

And on Monday... I did the dumbest thing I could ever do. And it has effected me ever since.

I wrote him a letter.

Probably a page long. Talking about how we'd been friends so I just wanted to know if he wanted to go out. I knew the cliche was a check box with "check yes or no", so I even ended it with that. I was acting like I was 8 at the age of 13.

I gave it to him right before he went on the bus, and then watched him leave.

Apparently, someone immediately grabbed it off of him... Blake something... and read it to the entire bus.

I signed it with my full name. In fucking CURSIVE.

The next day, someone told me. Tiffany, I think. Everyone had laughed about it.

I immediately walked over to Joshua the first time I saw him and said, "Listen, just nevermind, okay? Forget it. I'm really sorry that happened." And I ran away.

I thought it was cause I was fat and he was regular and everyone made fun of him because I was too dumb not to write it down.

My mom always said, "Never put it in writing."

I have never signed my full name on any note or letter ever again.

It was awful.

And I just never thought about it and stayed to myself. And guys that I didn't like would try to ask me out, but I wouldn't have anything to do with them. And I never dated til after high school.

I went to my first party right before high school. It was a genius plan of Chrissy's parents... Everyone was there, and so she was instantly one of the most popular girls the next year in high school. Done and done.

It was pretty bad and insanely awesome. Me and Theresa and Tiffany and Crystal Garcia hung out and had a great time. Then no one invited us down the driveway to

The entire time I typed that last entry, I accidentally had facebook still open in another tab. IT'S EVIL. IT WON'T LET ME CLOSE IT.

I talk too much on it. And there's waaaay too many people on it. People who I will never see again, though, because I never technically will be invited to any high school reunions.

I blame the weed. I've run out and it's having side effects. Mainly, I am not as relaxed and slow anymore.

I have smoked weed because it takes me back to normal. Calm.

I am so fucking hyperactive right now it's not even funny.

And I'm thinking and just typing every fucking thought I can into this goddamn facebook.

WHAT THE FUCK.

I mean, at least livejournal forces me to have a subject to talk about.

Hence the subject header.

EVERYONE IS FUCKING ON IT, BY THE WAY. EVERYONE. EVERYONE YOU EVER KNEW IN YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE.

EVERYONE.

Although I have personally added two stars of Troma onto my facebook and Adam fucking Jahnke posted on my wall.

That's like... um... Okay, imagine if that bitch who wrote Twilight posted on a 13 year old goth girl's wall.

That's how fucking PSYCHED I was.

But, okay, like, here's the back and forth, alright. First of all, I know his and Trent Haaga's name from this Troma book I bought recently, "Make Your Own Damn Movie!" and it's fucking amazing.

So their names are pretty unique so I looked them up in facebook just haphazardly and added them.

I said something different to each. What I said to Adam was somewhat sillier because I was just trying to be flippant and cool.

Why do I do this. I am fucking retarded.

Anyways, so I said something along the lines of, "I am a huge fan of you and Troma. I just read your book and it's great and I'm standing outside your window right now."

Okay, I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was much smoother than that, alright? But I am freaking out because I can't figure out how I flippantly said, "I'm standing outside your window right now."

I know why I might say such a thing. Troma gets like these cult fans to do shit for them all the time. That's where they get their jobs. and I was just trying to act like in the book, which I am in the mindset of, and be weird and crazy.

I have been watching nothing but Troma movies for the past 2 weeks and reading the book, so it's kinda amped me up a bit. I'm being wackier than usual.

I've been trying to figure out a movie idea where a couple wakes up covered in blood and start screaming until she realizes she's just menstruating.

Anyways, so he replied, ON MY FUCKING WALL WHERE EVERYONE CAN SEE, "You're outside my window right now? That's cool. Like Salem's Lot."

I don't really remember what he's talking about. Although I've seen the movie, I don't remember any window scenes. So I do what I do best and just change the subject to something I know about. It's the key trick to sounding like you know something about everything. So I switched to another classic horror movie and replied this golden magic number:

"No, it's more like the scene from Psycho where the Norman is looking through the peephole.

That's right. I'm masturbating.

P. S. OMFG, ADAM JAHNKE POSTED ON MY WALL AND ADDED ME ON FACEBOOK!

*sploosh*"

Now, I totally thought I was being hilarious.

But now I'm really, really overthinking it.

I mean, this facebook shit is evil! You just type something and then it's up there. for like. ever.

And I want to just do 10 quizzes and make it go away.

But it'll just say "9 posts like this" and there'll be my conversation with Adam Jahnke.

But I was going for flirty fangirl. I mean, that's my personality!

Right?

I mean. God.

I hate myself.

It's funny!

I DON'T KNOW!!!!

This is who I am. It's okay to be who I am. I mean, look at me right now. I'm not typing some calm, thought-out essay. I'm typing my exact thought process onto a fucking livejournal and it is fucking WACKY.

I talk like a wacky person.

I shouldn't edit myself.

Or maybe I should, because I mean, people have often said my entries are hard to read and understand.

Ugh.

Am I a unique fucking snowflake or a turd?!?!

GODDAMN YOU, FACEBOOK!

So I just watched the first 11 eps of Harper's Island and was sorely disappointed when my favorite characters died.

I need recommendations for a new show. I want something creepy, thrilling, etc, but with a possible romance angle.

True Blood would fall under this perfectly, but I've already watched all that show.

Help!!!

-M

I don't know how you fuckers are supposed to find me, other than me writing out my full name on this site which I refuse to do. My livejournal is the only public privacy I have left. And I plan on never letting facebook meet LJ.

But if you like... have a facebook. Let me know and I'll add you.

*sigh* I'm miserable. I wish I'd never done this.

I have a feeling my entire family is going to contact me now. Ugh.

Reply to this meme by yelling "Words!" and I will give you five words that remind me of you. Then post them in your LJ and explain what they mean to you.

mr_alex_auldron told me these five words... which I think are like hilarious:

Weed- ( Read more... )

I'm ranting way too much...

Let's sum up.

What WEED means to me.

Weed means friendship, fighting the establishment, and relaxation.

I'm not good at making friends. I've moved too often, too early in my life. I wound up an outsider when I used to have a gang of friends. But when I got to Sebastian, everything was hell. I tried the first day to start with Megan, a fellow new girl who lived in the same area as me, and she wound up dumping me a few weeks later because I was wanting to spend too much time with her.

I wound up retreating into myself, til I found Goth and was able to project my interests through my clothing. Horror movies, vampires, anti-authority. It happened over a summer and when 10th grade started I went from the girl who was quiet in a jean jacket and jeans, to the unafraid girl who was ready to fight for herself.

Some people would've broken, but I got stronger and angrier.

A 9th grade class came in, full of punks and freaks who hadn't known me in denim, and I immediately found Amanda who turned out to have connections. She was also probably the super-kindest person I ever met. More than willing to hang out at my house and invite me to hers and introduce me to her world of freaks who socialized.

And WEED. The rest of my high school career was spent with these people, and I was grateful for it. Most of them didn't even smoke that much, but they were KIND. Freaks/goths/weirdos accept EVERYONE... it's everybody else who is discriminatory.

Anyways, when I went onto college and had to find friends, I simply only did it so that I could get more weed. So I'm grateful for weed for that, because if I hadn't needed it BADLY then I probably would still be alone and not used to adapting.

And that leads to the relaxation. I can admit that I need weed. I don't want to use the word "addict" because I think that word is unfair. When people have to take anti-depressants to not want to kill themselves, they're not addicts. When people have to do yoga or count to 10 or go to anger management classes to keep from killing others, they're not addicts. They're "in treatment."

Well, so am I!

Weed keeps me at a baseline. Hell, I dare say it makes me a kinder and gentler person. I feel confident enough to be myself, instead of whatever I think someone wants me to be.

And, for the record, I've been on anti-depressants. That Molly is NOT Molly. THAT Molly is like... politically correct and unimaginative. That Molly likes hugs more than fighting.

She's CREEPY, I tell you!

So, when I accepted Weed into my heart as my personal lord and savior, I learned some really interesting things about it.

For instance, back in the day, weed was pretty popular. Especially as Hemp. Then the people who owned the forests that were supposed to be turned into paper got pissed, because Hemp grows REALLY fast. They realized that their land was useless if people could make paper too easily, so they made hemp illegal.

This is just sort of second-hand information. I don't really want to bother to look too much into it, but Frank knows all about what went down.

So it really pisses me off when the big guy just changes the rules like that, but I know in my heart that the Underdog ALWAYS wins.

You know why?

Because the Underdog doesn't want to rule the world. He just wants to be good at what he's good at. And Mr. Big does want to win EVERYTHING, so he'll spend so much time wheeling and dealing that one day, he'll be dead, and he'll leave all of his business to his son that he never spent any time with.

That son grew up with the fat, black nanny who taught him good morals and a good heart. And he'll spend all that money saving us disassembling Daddy's empire and saving us.

Okay, so that's weed. Two rants, but the second one is significantly less-ranty. But I just didn't have the heart to delete the other one.

More to come!

-M

I am taking forever to update cause I was in NY and the last thing I wanted to update was a meme that alex_auldron gave me.

Basically he told me to talk about my feelings towards weed, tv, rants, comics, and movies.

I mean... jesus christ. Why not ask me to tell my entire life in an LJ post. I've barely put a dent in "weed" and I'm already at the 3 page mark.

I'm going to not update until I finish at least one at a time.

But I wanted to let you know that I did go to Niag. Falls, didn't have a bad visit for once.

My niece Jocelyn graduated and she was a little fucking BITCH this visit. So I didn't give her one fucking CENT.

You know, that little cunt has been hated by my entire family since she was born. She's the middle girl and I often wonder if it's really the child who develops middle-child-syndrome or if it's thrusted upon her by uncaring parents.

Everyone's always calling her a "snake" and stuff, just because she's the one who gets good grades and doesn't tell everyone her thoughts.

It's like how I really hate/can't trust people who are good at chess, because I know they're really calculating and think 3 steps ahead of your own 3 steps ahead.

Anyways, I've always been on her side because I've always felt like everyone hated me and was tougher on me than anyone, too.

Like if someone makes the same mistake I do, I get 3 weeks punishment and they get told not to do it again.

So I've always been the one with Jocelyn, calming her down and telling her she's not alone and that I'd always be on her side. Literally, every time everyone starts talking shit about her, I'm the only one standing up for her.

But then like when I visit, she gives me a hug and says hello and then just fucks off. Goes and plays catch, basketball, KanJam, whatever. Not sitting and having a talk and asking me how my life's doing or sharing her life with me, no. She just fucking FUCKS OFF.

It's a hard lesson I had to learn, too, that being friends with people means spending time with them. Or giving a shit about their lives.

I'm just soo pissed off at the fucking cunt.

It's one thing when your friends are there, you just can't leave them to their own devices while you catch up with your family. But it was JUST family. The only people under 40 were me, and her and her brother and sisters. You really think it's more important to spend time playing catch silently with Billy then pretending to care about THE ONE GODDAMN PERSON IN THE ENTIRE FAMILY WHO IS ON YOUR SIDE?!?!?!

GOOD LUCK, BITCH! Glad you graduated. Go off into the world and don't look back, because none of us are gonna miss ya.

*kicks her in the ass as she leaves, just in case the door didn't hit her*

I can't help but feel the... what. Irony? Poetic Justice? in this situation. I mean, I've fucked off more than once.

I've left my whole father's side of the family, just to have a few less people to have to keep in touch with.

And because my drunken sot of a father who treated my mother like she was NOTHING doesn't remember her having a twin miscarriage... then promptly finds Christianity just in time to judge me and inform me that I'm going to hell because I haven't done the special "accepting Jesus Christ as my personal lord and savior" ritual.

But still, when I visit, I don't JUST stay to myself.

Eh, it's all bullshit anyways. This is why I love Frank. The whole world's full of people that I find difficult to hang out with. Boring and complicated and not like me.

Hell, if I could figure out how to make all my LJ friends into one person who lived near me, it'd be perfect.

I'm just glad to find the happiness I have. And I think I have it because I'm getting so goddamn good at ignoring the bad shit.

One day, I'll have a tumor in my head. And I'll name it, "Family."

-M

HE'S DEAD! HE'S DEAD!!!

I'M SO UPSET!!!

*SCREAMS*

WHAT!?!?!?!

I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!!!

I usually lounge around naked at my boyfriend's request, but I am going to go put on black and stay in black for... a long time.

*sigh*

I'm so sad.

What a fucking downer.

I really liked him.

-m :(

I'm so over people. They're all retarded.

Basically, I was in a mock jury and everyone agreed against me.

And that's fucking RIDICULOUS.

I can't say much, but the main thing people seemed to gravitate to was the idea that a genre of music could be encouraging crimes in real life.

Like how goth music showed death, and then Columbine happened. Obviously it's a cause and effect kinda thing.

Uh, no, how about it's more like music talking about what's happening in society at the moment. You have to understand how students had been treated in the 90s to realize why they felt the need to be violent.

This woman even said, "Well, it's like the Hitler Youth in Nazi Germany. They're able to brain wash these kids into thinking this is all right."

...Uh, they didn't have the Hitler Youth running the concentration camps. I sincerely doubt they knew they were doing that.

If you told me Obama wanted me to be an ObamaTeen and to be that would mean to wear the color pink and do good things for the elderly and sell cookies, SIGN MY ASS UP. WHERE'S MY PINK?!

But then it turned out later that Obama had been killing white girls in his basement.

...I had no part in that.

How was I to know he was doing that?

I wasn't brain-washed! I was told propaganda in the form of news specials! I WAS LIED TO. THERE'S A DIFFERENCE.

If they had ever asked one of those Hitler Youth to go gas a jew, I sincerely hope a few of those kids would be like, "Uh, why does Hitler want that?" instead of following him blindly.

For the record, by "gas a jew" I did not mean to fart on Jon Stewart.

Anyways, the whole thing just drives me crazy. People really think kids are so goddamned easy to instruct.

I CAN'T GET KIDS TO DO ANYTHING.

And when I was a kid, I certainly didn't do things just because of peer pressure or "the cool kids" were doing it.

In fact, I pretty much went out of my way to do what the cool kids WEREN'T doing.

Hell, I wouldn't drink at a party, let alone do drugs, before I had done it at home first. I didn't want to experience ANYTHING for the first time in front of a large group of people.

It's too vulnerable. Who knows what reaction I'd have? Or how out of control I might be.

Ugh.

I'm SOOO pissed off right now.

Growl.

It's about personal responsibility. Parents should be teaching this to their kids.

-M

LEONARD FUCKING NIMOY DIRECTED THREE MEN AND A BABY.

I repeat.

Leonard FUCKING Nimoy DIRECTED 'Three Men & A Baby.'

I just blew your MIND!!!

-M to the Olly

So I'm intoxicated (sic)... (hic)... and re-reading my old journal and fixing it up tag-wise/privacy-wise. I don't like having privacy, but I know people are going to read this shit and see Cutter Pothead TV Freak and I'd rather leave behind at least the Cutter part and the Pothead part because I know only too well how cops/people can use things against you.

But, still, I had them public for like 5 years of my life so I did pretty well in the fight against censorship.

Who am I kidding. Inner Molly is screaming right now. Why should I have to censor myself?!

...Hmm.

Conflict in action. You can't get this from the 5 fucking minutes that are "Live" on I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here.

Which is not bad. Not great, but not bad. Like Survivor, but with the people getting more money for being a bigger asshole.

Although, I must admit that Daniel Baldwin is right when he was interviewed after the show and said he and his brother had great comedy and chemistry. They are HILARIOUS together, and I'm sorta pissed he left.

Anyways, back on topic. I'm going through old entries which I may or may not make private anymore, and I've found some shit going DOWN. I remember this stuff happening!!!

For instance, I hadn't watched the superbowl in a couple years when the Patriots went up against the Panthers. I was just kinda jaded girl at the time and really found no point to it.

In fact, I made this really cute entry about it while it was on because my mom's boyfriend was watching it.

02/01/2004:
So I'm watching the superbowl. And the following proves how much of a girl I am.

I want the patriots to win. Cause I don't like panthers.
Oh wait. The Panthers' quarterback is FINE. Go panthers!
OMG.. The patriots' quarter back is fine too... what do i do?
Well I like the Patriots uniform better so... GO PATRIOTS.

Yes. I am fucked up. thanks.

Note: Notice how in 5 years of life, I have yet to think of the Super Bowl as anything but "superbowl." That's my gut instinct on how to type it. Fascinating!

Anyways, my mother was out of town and I was home alone with her boyfriend and I felt like I should check in on him every once in a while so he didn't feel alone. So like I said, "Hey, let me know when the half-time show comes on and I'll come out and watch it with you."

So me, and this guy I thought was a total redneck asshole, are sitting in the living room and Justin Timberlake's performing, until...

02/01/2004 (later):
Subject: *raises her hand*
Um.... did anybody else just see Janet Jackson's nipple?

...Her boobs are whiter than michael jackson's ass.

CLASSIC!!! Real-time history! When I typed that, I had no idea the repercussions that would come. Awesome.

MORE TO COME!

-M to the Olly

So tired, I can barely think. But this is the night. The night is for doing the things I want to do. If I wait til the day, when my mom's awake, then I shall either be ignoring her and taking the computer for my own purposes, or not getting anything done.

Oh, the night.

I'm drunk and very tired.

-M

I went back in time a little, trying to find my infamous "reasons you should hate me" list that I used to update all the time. But I found this along the way. It's one of my first super-long rants, and it's a pretty good one. I was 19 at the time, and a little ball of fire rather than a sweet girl afraid to step on anyone's toes.

( Read more... )

Wasn't that a flash from the past? I'm gonna start trying to update my journal like that again. I hate being whiny. I like when I used to be angry. Fuck being Miss Nice Girl. Old Molly had SPUNK!

-M
[What can you do when you live in a shoe and you ain't go no soul?]

Mine.

So I was watching American Dad and it was this episode when the Dad was learning to ride a bike and I had a flood of basically every memory in my head with the lj tag Bicycle.

I remember having a big wheel first. I don't think I ever had the little red and yellow car everybody else did... or the yellow plastic swing that everybody did. My mom was never into that. Maybe they're too expensive... but that can't be it because I remember when she like had entire swing set installed for me that was like gigantic... Maybe she bought a kit. I always felt like it was very expensive, because it had a regular swing and like a round plastic seat on a rope that was like a swinging rope. But looking back, I bet she made it herself. It was made out of real like 10 foot things of wood and steel brackets, not any brand name. She probably made it for me. God, that's cool.

That was off topic. What I was saying is that like I always wanted the car when I was a kid, but I had the bike. I think my mom thought I was too big for that, which I probably was. I was always too big for anything my age.

But, like, okay, I remember the big wheel and no tricycle. My friends had trikes and I just had nothing to do with them, I hated them. I thought it was retarded how hard you had to pedal to go anywhere. I remember being like 3 and thinking, "This is not well-made. The steps on the back are cool and all, but if I wanted to scooter around I'd get a scooter. This is just some dumb thing everybody has, but I'd rather be watching TV."

But I fucking loved my big wheel. Leaned back in the seat, legs outstretched, that shit was easy to pedal too. I don't know, maybe it was the weight distribution but it was just easy. And I felt COOL when I was riding around in my pink and purple big wheel. I could go anywhere.

I always felt like I was on a motorcycle in it. My uncle Ronnie who is my mother's favorite sibling out of 4, was a biker. I was always telling everybody about my biker uncle. My mom told me not to say anything about that cause it had a negative connotation and rather say "He has a motorcycle." rather than is a biker. But I always told everyone that anyways. I imagined him going out to get in bar fights or like being like Sam Elliott in Mask, you know? Just cool.

My mom was friends with this biker couple who also had a kid in my private school. They were from West Palm Beach like us, I remember that. And their house was REALLY nice. Like on the outside it was a log cabin, and on the inside it was NYC. I remember these glowing words art everywhere, you know, like on beer signs. That neon shit. It was all blue and pink and made the entire place feel like you were in an aquarium. A really good aquarium. It was one of the highlights of my white trash life to be in that house.

Everyone thinks white trash means dirty, but it often doesn't. It means buying anything cheap and cool at the same time. Nobody picks out shitty stuff at the Goodwill. It means MacGuyvering things by reupholstering them and cutting up giant t-shirts that you get for free at the carnival into a cute top.

Side Note: What was my favorite fashion choice from the 90s? The giant t-shirt with puffy paint art design on the front, tied at the side with a scrunchie.

TO THIS DAY, I will wear over-sized T-shirts with a scrunchie to fit it to my waist. It's a white trash fashion staple!

One time in the 90s, button up black shirts, that looked like bowling league shirts, were very popular. Their most common designs were flames and dragons in Red. Sorta asian-looking prints.

This is HILARIOUS.

LOL, I mean EVERY GOTH GUY wore that shit. It is so funny to me right now.

Did I mention I am drunk? End Side Note.

Anyways, so I was talking about White Trash because Kyla's situation was VERY typical of white trash families, as was mine. Single mother with a live-in boyfriend/husband.

I only say this cause I remember Kyla's mother's name was Kayla or Lyla or something that was familiar to Kyla, and I remember thinking at a very young age (probably 5) that her mother called her when she was just born.

It's like... I knew that either she was born with Kyla not naming any dad or like if Kyla's mom and dad were together, then Kyla's mom said "this is my daughter, not yours," at birth.

I know this because my mom did as much when I was born. My dad wanted to name me Casey, following my sister's Karen and Connie, and my aunt Kit. My mom basically signed the birth certificate or put her foot down immediately and said, "Molly Marie." My second name's after her mother, too. It was basically like, "This is all my daughter. Not yours. You're going to leave me."

Lot of strong women in white trash. It's a pattern.

Anyways, so back even more to the point, Kyla's stepdad or whatever was a biker, too. And he let me wear his helmet when I was driving around on my big wheel. It was SWEET. I remember that I was like 5 at this point so I was too big to still be on a big wheel, but I loved it. I was on the road.

Before I gave up the Big Wheel, I was given a bike. We still lived in West Palm at the time, so I was probably around 4. It had training wheels on it and I rode it around the house for like 2 hours straight. My mom told me to take it outside, but I really, really didn't want to. I liked riding it on the carpet, it was squishy.

I had a similar reaction with roller skates. Riding them around on the streets there was a lot of shale and shit so it was a very bumpy ride. I much preferred wearing them around the house, up and down the hallways.

When we moved to Okeechobee, I didn't mess with it for a while til I made friends with people who had bikes.

At some point, I was too big for the bike or the training wheels but I could not learn how to do it without them. I just didn't want to.

So my mother compromised and got me a three-wheeler for adults.

I shit you not.

To this day, I feel like my mother raped me. How could she allow that kind of nonsense? She did this stuff to me A LOT. I can't even talk about how many literature days where she went overboard with my costume.

Explanation: In christian school, you can't celebrate Halloween. But they usually allow a Literature Day around the end of October where you dress up like someone from a favorite book. And you did a little report on it. Tricky christian bastards.

Back to Story: But at the time, I loved my little 3-wheeled contraption. It had a basket on the back and it was RED. It was MUCH cooler than most granny bikes, I must admit, and could hold 4 children on it. I felt like I was the enterprise and my friends on bikes were the little shuttles.

Nobody even fucked with me about it.

Then I finally just like decided to ride a bike when I was about to turn 11. I think I said to myself that I couldn't go to middle school without being able to have a skinny bike. I was going to public school and they'd eat me alive if I was the freak with the 3-wheeler.

So I just told my mom I was doing it and she came outside to help and I mastered it. I couldn't turn but I could stop and start and that was enough.

But it's just like... I don't know. What's the right decision to do with that. Somehow trick the kid into getting rid of training wheels and not letting them know there's a wicked cool 3-wheeler option or like let them grow at their own pace.

I definitely feel like my own person because my mother let me choose things when I chose them.

But I feel like I could have been less of an outsider than I am if she had helped me progress.

Hmm.

This is quite a rant.

Good job to the people who read it all/got it all.

I love these writer's block questions.

Firstly, if I'm having a last meal, I think it's safe to presume I'm going to be executed shortly after.

Although it is possible that I might also be thinking, "Well, Molly, say you're about to get hit by a bus. What do you wish your last meal would have been?"

Doesn't change anything, HypotheticalMe. The fact is, in order for it to be my last meal, I'm going to die afterward.

But don't forget to take into account my love of finding a third answer. When it's a yes or no question, my answer is always maybe.

First, I would like two slices of pizza. The first one should be from Pizza Hut, hand-tossed and spongey as fuck, with italian sausage topping. It better be chunked, and not grated or sliced, cause then I will motherfucking KILL you.

For my second slice, I would like a giant slice of cheese New York pizza. I do not want you to go into some fucking pizzeria and order me a slice. No. I want you to go get me an entire NY city cheese pizza and bring it to me IMMEDIATELY and THEN cut it. I don't want dry edges, motherfucker.

Then I would like a large amount of heavily peppered and garlic'd lobster meat. I want the big fucking chunk you get out of the body of one of those really big ass lobsters. With like some really fucking yummy garlic butter to dip it in. Maybe something from the Melting Pot.

Then I will be having four ounces of Filet Mignon steak, RARE. I mean, I want that shit BARELY cooked. It should be hot, but tender. I should be able to cut that shit with a spoon. And a small cup of Italian dressing to dip it in. I know that's blasphemy, but fuck you. I like it.

I would like to finish that off with a few bites of things from my favorite places. Two bites of a soft taco from Taco Bell. Two bites of Checkers' french fries. Two bites of a filet o'fish without cheese from McDonald's. A couple funyuns. A bit of mashed potatoes and gravy from KFC. Some of my grandmother's scrambled eggs and my mother's elbows and butter. Oh! And two bagel bites!

Then for dessert, at which time I would like a hot fudge sundae with far more hot fudge than sundae. NO NUTS. IF I SEE NUTS, I WILL HAVE YOURS ON MY NEXT SUNDAE WHEN YOU HAVE TO REMAKE MY ENTIRE FUCKING MEAL AGAIN.

But then I would also like rainbow sprinkles on top. ... Rainbow Sprinkles that contain CYANIDE.

HAH, MOTHERFUCKERS, I CHOOSE MY OWN DEATH, NOT YOU! HAH!

*curtsey*

-M

I wanted to pose this question to Crystal and Frank moreso than anyone, because they know me in real life, but do I put people off?

I mean, I think it's something about how animated I am. Or like... how I don't have any idea what my face looks like when I make faces.

I was never that little girl who stared at herself in the mirror for hours on end and saw all the faces she could make. I'm terrified of knowing myself too well and losing that instinctual randomness that can be found in being an amateur.

Like... if I think about it too hard, everything on me will seem fake and not spontaneous. But if I'm honestly making whatever face, then people will pick up on that.

But it's not true. I think people think of me as one of those girls who are like... "Sheesh, get away from me! I wanted to have a conversation with you, but now we're best friends and I'm invited to your wedding and I can't get five minutes alone."

My friend, Theresa, put it best when I asked her why she thought no guys ever wanted anything to do with me.

"Well, you're kinda aggressive."

I was SO surprised when she said that. I thought I was friendly!

I feel like I should be portraying different people. Constantly. I was watching the WORST VH1 reality show since The Love Of Ray J or Real/Chance of Love: Tough Love.

It was awful. The guy/matchmaker was a dick and they kicked people off and it's a long, awful story that I'm not even willing to recount lest Tough Love get ANY publicity whatsoever.

Anyways, they did have a point on the show about being a person who turns people off right away, and maybe slowing down the amount of information you share right off the bat.

I just really don't like people... but I want to have someone to talk to and experiences that require other people to help me get there.

Okay, here's what I want out of life:

How I Met Your Mother

Basically, I want to be a strong couple with at least one other couple and some single people friends. These people should drink a lot, and enjoy game nights and going on wild adventures, while being responsible enough to have the cash to pay for it so I don't have to pick up their tabs. But we could both be caring enough to take care of each other when it COUNTS.

I want to make some more life connections.

How do you do that? Should I be calling people just to see how they are?

It's probably like having a boyfriend. You want to feel cared about, so you figure out ways to make your friend's day better.

I feel like I'm really behind.

But I'll catch up. I always have worked best by copying off others. It's better to learn what everyone else knows, then for everyone to be learning together. At least for me.

-M

Adam Lambert's finally gay.

I simultaneously respect him more and less than Clay Aiken for that.

It's what leads to my low self-esteem.

I have set the bar very high for myself and refuse to stand up to it.

I deserve better.

I deserve to be better than everyone else, instead of allowing myself to be "comfortable" or "relaxed."

I should drink more coffee so I can stay awake more.

The thing is that I have a severe flight instead of fight mechanism. I used to be a HUGE fighter, but then I realized that I don't like causing people trouble... but now I'm just this whiny pussy.

Okay, Molly, think. What's our biggest problem when we try to be like normal people?

There's not enough time in the day to be lazy and watching television and doing everything I want to do.

What do you mean?

Well, like, I want to be on facebook and livejournal and constantly updating my shit and replying to comments and leaving comments, but that takes like... 2 hours a day. And then there's my desire to get in shape and wear makeup and care about my outfit. That's at least an hour and a half of laundry every day, plus showering every day, shaving my legs, blow-drying my hair plus makeup, going to the gym, reapplying makeup, shopping for more/better clothes. That's like at LEAST 4 hours. I suppose if I got good at it I could say it's 3.

After that is eating, sleeping, that's like 9 hours combined there. 8 hours of work/school. That leaves TWO television hours, if I'm lucky.

Whaaaaaaaaat.

No.

What about time for thinking of weird shit and looking it up on wikipedia. Or thinking up movie ideas. Or getting a hobby. Like that gun I want. Or sewing and crafts. Or learning embroidery.

Or learning ANY new thing.

I'll wake up one day having spent most of my life preparing for shit. Not even in a long-term way, but clogging my pores with makeup and damaging my hair with products and callousing my feet in stupid women shoes.

And don't forget the MONEY you have to spend on makeup, shoes, clothes, equipment, etc.

And don't forget how difficult it to stay organized when you're trying to be a person. I mean, organizing youtube clips to upload and coming up with opinions and bullshit. How do you all manage it?

I wind up not updating in livejournal for 2 weeks and I'm afraid to come back because I don't want to be bothered with the whole, "I'm sorry I was gone." spiel. Let alone going through my friends' list and sheepishly trying to comment on your journals again even though your life has gone through shit and I wasn't here to be a part of it.

It's like... what kind of friend am I?

So I get too scared to come back and then it's like 8 months since I last updated and I have become bitter that I can't write in my own goddamn diary just because of the people who don't even read my pages long babbling.

I should read a book on getting organized. And that one book about how to win friends and influence people. I think it's called "How To Win Friends And Influence People."

BUT I DON'T HAVE THE TIME.

But then again, it IS summer... If there ever were a time to change your life, it's Christmas and summertime. Or a snow day, but I live in Florida.

Alright, alright. No more promises. Here's a goal I'm going to try to set for myself. Organize my pictures and my music and do 2 loads of laundry by 2 am. That's not ridiculous.

On the road to maturity, sorta! Whoo! Optimism for Molly Kay!

...God, maybe I should rub one out first...

*pounds head against the wall* This isn't going to be easy.

-M to the Olly