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Meh.

Okay, so I have to say this somewhere, even though I know that no one uses livejournal anymore: A certain type of atheist is getting on my nerves.

For the longest time, I have not been a fan of religion nor the concept of deities. And this is something that I have in common with many atheists, including this vocal group to whom I am referring. But here's the thing: I've been a fan of "don't bother me and I won't bother you" when it comes to religion. I know a lot of my friends don't even know that I am an atheist, and would probably flip their shit if they found out. Y'know, like the asshole at my grandparents' funeral last year who found our cheery conversation all completely horrible once I told him I'm an atheist. I'm so glad we had mutual respect going for a person whose relatives just died.

But I decided to take that chance. As in: While I am a fan of not being bothered, it does still annoy me to see my Facebook wall plastered with JESUS THIS JESUS THAT every freaking day, not to mention messages of hate such as GOD WILL NEVER BLESS SAME SEX MARRIAGE REPENT REPENT REPENT which, on top of everything else he posted, caused me to finally reduce one friend's feed. I figured it would be worth it to counter it with joining a few atheism pages and groups, just to see things against religion, perhaps occasionally, on my wall, just to even things up. And I was okay in the beginning with this, as I would take to replying to things in these groups and pages... only until I realized there is absolutely no way to censor your feed now on Facebook. Everything I ever post, everyone sees, so they now have to block my feed instead, and so now they hardly see anything I write, while I see them Jesus-ing even more. "You don't believe in God? That'll be a really nice icebreaker when you meet him" oh please. ...But I'm getting sidetracked heavily right now.

Those vocal atheists on the groups and pages I join... it's like they hate absolutely EVERYTHING based upon religion. They spend their time digging up whatever they can about religion and bashing it, especially christianity. Most importantly, though, they dun't take kindly to religion sympathizers in deese parts right hurr; they hardly ever see eye-to-eye with the religious and anything I say about being kind of religious people is met with the same hostility. And the atheist organizations with money that post billboards with very, very critical messages of religion whom act surprised when vandalism and stuff happens to their billboards and displays...

*rubs my temples* And, I gotta say, it's kind of stupid.

The religious are decreasing in number worldwide, and atheism and agnosticism is on the rise. I can see that clearly. So, if this is occurring naturally, then why do those atheists have to be so fucking vicious? It makes no sense to me, especially since I hardly ever have seen christians sponsor such viciousness towards non-christians (maybe I'm either not looking hard enough or I'm not in the right place...). I figure that if the religious see atheists as being nice people and doing good things, they would see on their own that people can be good without deities and the idea of eternal life and whatnot. Being vicious only makes people cling tighter to their religion and reinforce negative ideas about atheists. And if priests are met with these horrible views of atheists (which happens so often), they can reach many more people and shower that ideology upon them, increasing the cling.

Atheists aren't getting respect in the modern day only PARTLY because of Psalm 14:1. PARTLY. The rest is because of the vocal atheists who attack anything moving that came within 50 meters of a bible/quran/torah. Hell, the Reason Rally was just as bad; they promoted it as friendly toward people who are religious, but from my viewpoint it most certainly was not. Doesn't help that they invited Westboro and other atheist hate groups, which says to me that they were inviting hostility and hoping for oppression to push a point. It was still a lot of fun, though; I won't deny that, and if it happens again next year, I will go again.

I'm probably not going to stop my criticism of religion, but I think I will at least try to have some sort of class about it. I have an ideology of my own and putting it into practice will ease my conscience.

EDIT/08252012: I probably shouldn't've published this so soon. Edited this up a little bit.

...I never want to go through that with Holly again.

-.-

But it was a mistake that I can't help wishing I never made. This week already sucked, but I have to say, I can't think of anything else that would ever make me feel less human.

To readers: I know this is vague. I'm not going explain it, though. I just need to get this out somewhere.

Therapist's question:
"How much of [your bike riding] is for losing weight?"

Whoever reads this (...whoever reads this) should know by now that I have had complaints about my body in the past. Let's start with this first.

I don't care anymore. So I'm a little chubby, while everyone sees me as skinny. Whatever. I acknowledge right now that the only thing I SHOULD be working on is my muscle. And eating healthier. But I don't care too much about my shape anymore, mostly because I know it's my genetics and my history of being obese that has let me like I am, and nothing will change those. However, I can be more toned. And I will do that instead.

As for the bicycling, holy fuck, everyone treats it like this. Everyone always has. I can see why they would assume this, of course; I'd be dumb to not see it considering how much I've complained about my body. But bicycling has never been about losing weight.

It's had a part to play... yeah, I'd be lying if I said it didn't. It's hell far from the main reason, but... lemme just touch that real quick.

Since I took that diet/lifestyle changing experience/what everyone thinks was starving last semester, I did find the idea of losing weight rather addicting. I liked counting calories, mostly because, holy shit man, it worked. And trying to attain a low number while not feeling like crap was a challenge I liked to take up because I like beating my own scores. Or other people's. I'm a competitive person. Potentially.
It just so happens that bicycling is the one thing I can do and keep at... and lose ludicrous amounts of calories. The York trip this past weekend? 3275.3 calories. That's almost a whole damn pound. Ignore the fact that apparently I burn 3400 calories in a day from existing (I swear that website is broken...) and that's the biggest number I've seen.

But that's not the main reason. I keep telling everyone the main reason, but they always forget what it is and assume I'm starving myself.

I love to travel.

A million times over I have said "it's not the destination, but the trip". I love the trip and bicycling allows me to do that. Especially since I don't have a car. I don't want a car, either. People seem to have a problem understanding this, but I don't want a car. I'll rent one or sign up for Zipcar should it ever become necessary, but I don't even need a car. I don't need to subject myself to the status quo.

Well, if I love travelling but don't want a car, then why am I spending an entire day bicycling to a place I can go to in an hour in a car? I know y'all are gonna ask that, so let me snatch that up now before you even ask it.

Because I LIKE bicycling, damn it.

Shock and amazement.

I don't understand why people find it so hard to imagine me actually liking to be on a bike. It's not for the health benefits. It's not for that bike bumper sticker "$0.00 9/10" some people put on their bikes. It's not for some agenda. It's not to be part of some big movement to get people to stop looking at cyclists as second-class citizens. Ignore everyone else's reasons and actually ask me what mine are. I'm doing it because I love being out on the open road (or trail, since all good roads are becoming Interstates, fuck you), propelling myself via my own power and being able to feel that power while enjoying the trip. I don't need to trick out my bike with rims or an annoying sound system, either; all I need is the open road and the sounds of nature.

I like it.


Short answer to therapist's question:
Very little.

I spent Monday night reading my journal, namely the entries that mentioned my longer bike rides back in 2007. I... am now very, very glad I did all that writing! It shows me, for one, that I started strong enough to barely survive a 60-mile ride, but after four months I could do 140 with... well, it still hurt, but it was better than 60. It also showed me that doing it was not easy whatsoever, no matter how far I went. And with all that knowledge in mind, I decided to just go balls-out and GO to DC. No asking questions, no checking to see if the B30 is a dick, no worrying about how much my legs were going to hate me, just fucking go to DC.

So I did.

...Well, I was going to do it on Tuesday but I then realized that I had an appointment and Carmen wanted me to do something so yeah that was postponed. Until the next morning! At like 9AM. And I went out without any questions, yay self-fulfilled prophecy. Though I did feel heavy-ish in the beginning due to eating too much the night before. o_x

Hill avoidance. Cold Spring to The Alameda, south, down to Loch Raven, to minimize hills as much as I could. But while I was doing hills, I made sure to take rather deep breaths... something I remembered when out by the airport some weeks ago was that my lung capacity kind of sucks and I need to build it up. 25th Street to Saint Paul Street, and then I was on southbound US 1. I often think that getting through Baltimore is annoying, and I would learn that no, nuh-uh. Ehhh... US 1, in its many forms (North Avenue, Monroe Street, Wilkens Avenue, Southwestern Boulevard, and finally Washington Boulevard), takes me all the way down out of the city and past the Throng of Ninety-Fives to... Levering Avenue. And here!, I decide that I'm going to... stop at the gas station right there and get a Gatorade before I cross US 1. >_> I'm forcibly new at this; I ain't taking any chances of drying out like a husk. And THEN, I decided to take the road that the BWI trail endorses. Main -> Furnace -> ...Race Road.

Race Road, you suck. Not only are you named historically for something rather unpleasant, but you also have to be so damn nostalgically pretty. D< And so quiet! And so... that breeze off the water-that-I-can't-see feels so good. D< And... gah. At the end of that... lovely, lovely, heinous road, I turned right, expecting to find the second incarnation of Race Road over there. I did not find it, but I sure found a hill. Or three. And at that point I asked for directions from the nearby cyclists cos I sure wasn't finding Race Road.

They told me I should've turned left. D: I told 'em I was trying to go to DC, to Greenbelt Station, and they were like holy shit, it's a hell of a ride, there's a bunch of climbing, etc., all of that, and they offered me some water (I did not take it... do I need to say why). Well, at least I didn't get the helmet lecture. :D I turned around, FLEW down those hills that I'd just marched up, and passed Race Road, crossed a bridge and—wouldn't you know it, it's the second Race Road. >_>

This one's nice too, damn it. Took it, shot south then right onto some wide thing, then some Coca-Cola Drive and crossed MD 100: Pitcher Memorial Highway. And then left on MD 103, to the next right, which leads to the Third Race. ...yeah, "left, right, left, right", describing this is going to suck. I do what I can. Ain't much out here except... myriad large trucks that want to eat you, people who stomp on the gas near cyclists because they have their silly sports cars that they think makes their Vienna sausages look bigger, and a couple nasty hills... and the lovely sound of MD 295: Baltimore–Washington Parkway to my left (east) behind the trees. But... As insignificant-looking as this road is, it sure has a lot of new, empty industrial parks on it. O_o ...And a house that's overgrown with vegetables! O_O They exist up here!

There is a considerable difference between "just going" here and "just going" back home, and that's the sheer amount of roads that aren't just straightforward and obvious. They double back, they curve, they go up, they go down, "just going" is a huge waste of time if you take the wrong turn. And my stopping to talk to those cyclists pretty much proved that my phone and Google Maps were going to be my crutches for the rest of the trip. x_o But not at the mo', since Race Road's Jesus-ing ends at MD 175: Jessup Road. I've been here before: Turn right, then left onto Brock Bridge Road.

Oh, Brock Bridge, you and your skinny ass. Kept having to pull over for cars, until I got past the lady prison... yes, there's a damned prison out here. x_x Well, at least it's out here and... not across from my apartment or something. ...And, for seriously, it's feeling a little claustrophobic on these roads at this point. I end up on MD 732: Guilford Road, and stop at another gas station to drink some electrolyte water. Pretty much halfway there now, and—BP... kind of has a small empire out here...

MD 732 takes me to Dorsey Run Road, across MD 32: Patuxent Freeway. And welcome to the second incarnation of Brock Bridge Road, that round ramp is so much fun. At this point I'd pretty much stopped doing my deep-breathing and just breathed normally for... most of the rest of the trip, if only because I was getting winded from deep breathing. o.x Yeah. I got tired of breathing. Think about that for a minute. It's about here that my legs are getting a little exhausted, might be due to the lack of deep breaths... cos that nothing of a hill just beyond the church with the huge parking lot was giving me trouble. And then I found Whiskey Bottom Road again.

Do I go down Whiskey Bottom real quick and get some pole numbers that I need, or do I go straight—maaaan, time wasting >_> Straight. This takes me off the path that I know and sends me down to MD 198: Fort Meade Road. Hello, Laurel. Thanks for the nice shot down the sidewalk... Well, until the road gets ready to cross Interstate 95. Again. That interchange is ridiculously wide. x_o Thankfully, so is the shoulder. The Chinese Army can have a picnic on that shoulder. After I-95 and... having to walk halfway through the interchange, it's time for Old Gunpowder Road. ...Heh.

It was okay going down. Not too terribly hilly, if I remember correctly. And the Pepco power line I'm attempting to stalk just began. I crossed over the not-yet-completed MD 200: Intercounty Connector and took pictures of the construction, then kept going onto a bike path... and I missed a stop sign. Just in time for some woman to turn onto the road I was crossing. I'd complain, but that was my fault, mostly because I'd been on the road for hours and I was getting kind of disoriented. So I deserved the nicknames I got from that.

...the bike path spits me out just north of I-95 again, crossing that... or rather, squeezing through more MD 200-related construction (bridge widening) as quickly as I could, and that didn't hurt my thighs at all, nope. Suddenly, MD 212. Here, I crossed Evilstate 95 AGAIN, this time stopping for more pictures, and taking some time to breathe before coasting on down the interchange grade. Powder Mill Road keeps going, and going, and going... upwards again, fuck you, to... a U.S. base thing. =/ Nice picture opportunities I see before me, before noticing a sign before me saying you can't take pictures, take notes, make maps, call your friends, tie your shoes crooked, etc., near this base-thing. I took off quickly, picture-less... damn shame, too; t'd be nice if those poles weren't behind the perimeter gate. >_> Powder Mill Road, which I stayed on, diverts from MD 212, where I passed a Hispanic woman who greeted me kindly. :] Hey, an act of kindness in DC-land, how very... uplifting?

And suddenly... MD 650: New Hampshire Avenue.

And now it just gets annoying.

I head south. ...on the sidewalk, cos MD 650's a highway I ain't fucking around with. Two idiots come running for the bus, so I move to the road side of an otherwise clear sidewalk. I sit there for like five seconds and the black guy runs straight at me and is all like "Move out the way, man!" and hops out into traffic to get around me and the clear sidewalk. ...Thanks for that. I'll assume that the reason you're still running to catch buses is because you keep trying to run straight THROUGH things on your driver's test. *rolls eyes* Genius. Crossed under Interstate 495: Capital Beltway, at long last, and coasted... up hills. No, I walked up hills. Up and down hills, and that's what this trip was like all the way down to Ray Road. Including the whole "you go! no you go! no, get out the highway, you twit!" crap I do with drivers all the time. *sighs* And aside from finding a nasty construction zone at Adelphi Road where a woman at the light asked me for directions to "University Avenue". ...:D "It's that way! *points south*" I feeled gewd, safe in the knowledge that University Boulevard is MD 193... well, if she meant Boulevard anyway. Now if there actually IS an Avenue I just fucked somebody up, whoops o_x So there's now a headache I'm fighting off, not to mention my general feeling like five anvils are tied to my waist. So. Ray Road. I can finally, FINALLY, get those transmission towers I want, right? RIGHT?!

...No. Construction everywhere. Are you fucking real.
I... just... *heavy sigh* Well, my trip... wasn't in vain, right? I got in lots of practice, lots of working of my lungs, ...leg exercise? :D? But I ain't gonna be taking my pictures when there're six trucks worth of construction people right there. I'll have to come back in a month or so, it would seem. -_- Time to leave this road... which throws two cosine-wave hills at me on the way out, thank you the universe.

North on MD 212: Riggs Road, I stop at Wendy's, Hispanic chicks with really thick accents and quick speech get offended at me not understanding them (...=| ), I leave, and... mostly... walk... up MD 212. x_o The transmission line passes over and taunts me. East on MD 193: University Boulevard (oh hey, look) is next... that was deceptively fun, and the transmission line passes over and taunts me again. But I'm almost done... almost done... once I get to Cherrywood Lane. That intersection required three motions to make one left turn, it sucked and I should've crossed MD 193 before I got to it.

Cherrywood Lane goes to Greenbelt Metro Station. B30, Light Rail, 3-bus, APARTMENT. x____x; PG County, I hate you. Too many humans, waaaaay too many fucking humans. If I didn't have to go down there one more time, I wouldn't go down there one more time. Oh, and the B30 bus driver was a cunt. Seriously... Baltimore is angelic compared to that place. And people tell me I should go to New York City? =/

Soooo glad to know I went through all of that and I walk away without my pictures. But I DID get information. And a cute little reminder that I need, NEED to make sure I am as oriented (read: stronger than my weak ass is now) as possible on DC-vicinity roads. Especially when a family walks out in front of me when I'm starting to move.

I'm glad I did it, though. It was a refresher course.

Trip odometer: 54.313 miles
Average speed: 9.2 mph
Max speed: 27.6 mph (where? beats me)
Trip timer: 5 hours 52 minutes 51 seconds
Calories: 1897.1

Total 2011 odometer: 360.71 miles

This semester is a disaster.

I probably am not telling everyone the extent of what I am experiencing in my classes right now. But it is bad. And everyone can tell me that I can keep trying, keep trying, don't give up, blah blah blah... but when half the semester passes, you're largely lost, and you've never gotten a test score above 50% (usually no more than 30%), it's time to quit.

I'm faced with two choices now, one of which I must choose before April 8th.

I could keep going to class and pretend nothing's wrong... while cramming like hell and doing every possible thing I can to raise my grades as high as possible. The problem there, though, is: will I get a C? I seriously doubt it now.

The more expensive option is to withdraw. Unlike Wor-Wic, you're penalized if you drop below full-time status after withdrawing and taking an Incomplete. I believe there are other things that depend on that full-time, but my main concern, my room in Morgan View, is not one of them as it wants half-time or more. So I can only choose one class to withdraw from; two would get me kicked out of MV.

And that, my friends, is Calculus.
Bigger impact on GPA if I fail.

This semester seriously got off to a horrible start. With the Christmas bullshit, the medicine insurance fail and the depressive episode that lasted until early February(?), subsequent laziness carried over from said episode, the emotional crash from the Marie–Holly–me thing (which, EDIT/03182011, clearly affected me a HELL of a lot more than I would like to think), and then second wave of family bullshit... I can't focus. I really can't. And so, no matter my desire for all As, my desires to finish my classes as fast as possible, I couldn't do it. In fact, I've only really been confident at all starting, like, early March, the episode was so bad. BUT, I could function in February. Amidst the whole... overwhelming emotions thing which drives me to just want to stay to myself, not even seeking help from people where I need it because, well, it's people.

Though, to be honest... What did I do right last semester? That's one of my best academic performances ever, as much as I was still disappointed in my performance then. I love how my best semester is followed right behind by one of my worst semesters.
* The calorie counting helped. Kept me active, kept my mind active, I could think, and I was eating much healthier. To be honest, I'm eating garbage right now. And the onslaught of so, sooo many things to do this semester has left me unable to bicycle. Sitting on my ass is kind of depressing.
* I also didn't really talk to people much. Sometime over the winter, or just before this semester started, I got rather social... pathetically so, but rather social. I think it may be because of the fact that I AM feeling pretty lonely after last semester, never really doing anything and all other than work, work, work.
* My Facebook statuses from then kind of show that I really didn't do anything much other than work. They were all about school. I suck. Lawl.
* Mostly, I had a will to get this shit done and move on to my next classes, and to NOT FAIL, because I am fucking sick and tired of failing. And get out of here and pursue the shit I wanna do. But... after the depressive episode, I got rather conflicted, and once the spring semester began I let myself be overwhelmed. My will to do... well, anything, was gone, and it took a lot to bring it back; I've only now gotten my will to get through my shit (and not waste any more taxpayers' money) back.

For now, that's all I can think of. I think it mostly lies in that whole "I have a will" thing. But, just because I fucked up this semester does not mean that I can allow myself to lose that will and drive. I'm gonna hold on to it. If I can't use it to destroy my schoolwork, then I can use it, along with my bank account, rationally to see if I can't put myself back where I aspired to be before the fall semester begins. I don't want to beat myself up over this, mostly because I know it accomplishes zero. If not division by zero.

I have plenty of people breathing down my neck for not getting all As last semester. Namely, Lalith. So it's obvious what he's saying about this semester. But? That's not my problem. Circumstances beyond, and some within, my control led to this and the least I can do is be smart about it.

:]

As much as I really want to cry right now for failure, I am happy. I am determined. And I can do this. And yeah. I'm a man that admitted to wanting to cry. I don't give a fuck... mainly because I actually can't cry, lawl, but still. My purpose is not to perform for males who peacock around. If they want that, they have issues of their own, and I don't feel like my masculinity is being threatened. But... that's me on a tangent. Whose slope is a limit. As x approaches. . .

When I last went to talk to Ms. Leight, one thing she said near the end of the session stuck with me. "It seems to me that you're trying to kill off that fat little boy." And she said that this is bad.

...I can't figure out why this would be a bad thing.

That period where I was a fat fuck definitely has a lot of bad memories associated with it, and the rest of me back then was simply... inadequate and ill-equipped for a lot of things, namely social interaction, and the confidence that I had then was embarrassingly minuscule. On the other hand, once I lost all that weight, my confidence knocked the roof down... granted, it was a low roof, but it still knocked some sort of roof down. That and I became much more physically able and I just... felt better about myself.

So why would removing the remnants of that be such a bad thing?

I'm beginning to think that people have a ridiculous hate towards people who try to lose weight. And yet, at the same time, they're complaining about being too fat. I don't get it. I don't think I ever want to get it, either.

I'll leave this thing at this, though. I've prattled on about my self-image far too much at this point. Nonetheless, I want to hear her explanation for why that's a bad thing.

Holly sent me this link last night.

Makes a lot of sense, if I think about it. Y'know, it makes sense if I don't think about it, too.

After you get older, you expect to not have to put up with half the bullshit you once had to from your family once you got older or out there on your own.

But this is apparently not true and we have been pretty much disowned by the half-brother and the grandparents.

How delightfully stupid.

Yeah.
Rolicia came up here on Friday as Rowland got out of Sheppard–Pratt. So they go down to Grandma's house to go get Rowland's stuff, because we finally decided to move him the fuck out of that house, as his co-worker who thinks of Rowland as a little brother agreed to have him move in for free. Living in Grandma's house seems to be causing the bulk of the problems. Uncle Sonny's stealing Rowland's money, Granddaddy is... Granddaddy, and Grandma's pretending to not know what the hell's going on. On top of that, she likes to push blame for certain things off on other people and refuse to claim responsibility for it, passing off lies about us to other members of the family in order to make themselves look virtuous. Y'know, like most of the people in the family do. But Grandma is apparently one to get super-defensive over these accusations. On top of that, there's the whole matriarchal and old age hierarchy bullshit that I've noticed and Rowland knows full well of too, so yeah.

So they go to Grandma's house and get his stuff (without me, because I was in class), and Rolicia ends up having to confront Grandma. Which pretty much turned into a shouting contest. After Rowland got his stuff, Rolicia had to be called out of the house and they drove over to Morgan. They picked me and Yahya up and we all drove down to Rowland's co-worker's place, when he is now moved in and living with. And the trip down Interstate 95, at rush hour, was horrible. Worst part was the ramp to the Capital Beltway, not even the Beltway itself; walking was faster than the traffic all the way around to the B-W Parkway.

And, while on that ramp, a tangent informed me that, thanks to November 01, 1998, Mommy was facing 35 years in prison for that fuckery, but SOMEHOW instead only got three months' probation. The justice system is kind of fucked like that. But I never knew this. I always assumed that nothing was done period and that Mommy went to court and nothing happened, and that I was going to be blamed heavily for it (well, I did) for the rest of forever. Nonetheless, it's nice to know that those demon spankings stopped for a reason, and that there's justice for someone who makes their boy bruised, bloody, and broken, and sends them to school the next day. Pathetic justice, but it's justice nonetheless.

But when we left, after dropping Rowland and all his stuff off, we came back up on US 301 -> MD 3 -> Interstate 97. Should've gone down on US 301 in the first place, but we didn't know where the place was, so whatever. I had this alcoholic lemonade (lawl) on the way out, since the dude said we could pretty much have anything in his fridge. Dat shit wuz gewd.

So as we drove back up, Rolicia explained what that silly fight with Grandma was about. Basically, Grandma was denying everything that happened and pushing the blame off on us for everything. And Rolicia told Grandma about everything that Mommy'd done to her when she was younger, and some things she's done to Rowland. (Also, Rowland apparently attempted suicide in high school; an instance I forgot the details to but I never knew about before yesterday.) Grandma tried to say that she would've taken us in if only we'd told her about it. Which, of course, is a bunch of shit; even I remember that Grandma and Granddaddy were told this before and not only did they not believe us whatsoever but they also said they wouldn't take us in as they're "too old to be raising children". Not only that, but we were not allowed to use the phone when we were younger as it is, especially not for long-distance calls like to Grandma.

Rolicia also said she called Mommy about it afterward. Mommy, apparently, was really reactive to how Rowland said he didn't want to talk to Grandma and that he needed to move out as soon as possible. Saying "Oh no, something really bad must've happened if he doesn't even want to talk to Grandma" or something. And, everyone was pretty strongly sticking behind their "don't go down to the Shore to see Mommy" and all towards Rolicia, who thought it would be a good idea to go down and attempt to have that talk with Mommy that we couldn't on Christmas. And not going down to the Shore sounds like a good idea to me. After all, Mommy is another one who just does not listen, as evidenced by how she reacted to me on New Years Eve. But she will listen to Rolicia, and was really receptive to Rolicia's talking to her. So who knows? It might be worth something. Nonetheless, Mommy said she's going to talk to Grandma and all them, not saying much about the situation, just so that we can get some information and some understanding.

Oh yeah, and Rowland seems to have this idea to not talk to Delford, as Delford may find him and try to put him back in Grandma's house. This... seems... silly and completely illogical. Either way, if Delford is telling him that everything he's doing is silly, then it makes sense to me that he needs to get out. He's on antidepressants and antipsychotics as well; he's apparently hallucinating and has been doing so for three years. He says he hears his supervisor and several other people bullying him around. Which doesn't surprise me; apparently his supervisor is a dick who has this real middleschool way of kicking people around. Like stealing a gift cake from Rowland and eating it in front of him. Honestly, that guy needs a good sock in the... in the something. Because he sure doesn't have nads, as pathetic as that was.

Oh, and speaking of Delford. On Saturday, while I'm standing outside in all that 46 mph wind, he sends me a text message: "Have a nice life brother."
...what.
No, seriously. That was my response, too. "...what?"
"If you don't know Nevermind."
Yeah, sure. Who the fuck says that out of nowhere and expects me to not wonder what's going on? And I said that too. "I think I know. And it's this lack of and oppression of talking that leads to these things in the first place."
...No answer after that. Surprise, surprise?

But, apparently, Rolicia received an even harsher message: "Don't talk to me again unless you want to know how I'm doing. Which means, you'll never hear from me. Have a nice life." She didn't answer to it, but this came after a voice mail message as well, as Rolicia blocked calls from the grandparents, Uncle Sonny, and Delford. Since she refuses to talk to any of them, she deleted the voice mail before she even heard it.

Honestly, though, Delford... after the way he reacted to the suicide in the family, all I have to say is what the fuck is his deal, anyway? Is he trying to sweep everything under the rug and pretend it's not there? Obviously he knows and is quite aware that bad shit is going on, since he tends to get information before anyone else does; I'm thinking that he either refuses to believe that any of it can be happening so close to home, he sees enough of it as a cop and he doesn't want to have to think about it any more than he already does on his job, or he's had enough bad things happen in his own past that he doesn't talk about that he doesn't want to have to think about anything happening to anyone else. He is also no stranger to the whole "it's not anyone's fault but your own" philosophy, and pulls that on everyone, which is why Rolicia and I have quit talking to him about anything either important, opinionated, or serious (like mental disorders or suicide); he's just so degradingly condescending whenever we mention these things to him. And I'm beginning to think (as is Rolicia) that he thinks we influenced Rowland to attempt suicide and is upset with us because of this, which... makes no sense. I don't know what to think, and as Delford isn't one to talk about these important things there's no way of knowing exactly why he treats people and their situations in this way. So I would, personally, love to know why I got that retarded, passive-aggressive "fuck you" which is something I would sooner expect out of a middle-schooler.

At the same time, someone's told Rolicia that she might want to do a thorough family history search. We've had too many instances of mental illnesses in the family, not to mention two suicides that are known to me. All three of us have been put in a damn mental hospital due to suicidal thoughts and whatnot, and one of our cousins has been placed in the hospital twice for mental breakdowns (mostly due to overbearing parents), the second of which made her have to drop out of college last year. Or was it two years ago? I don't remember.

But anyway.
I told Rolicia about that text message (I was out to KFC at the time, so I wasn't paying too much attention) and she also informed me that she's going to go see Aunt Pate later, on Monday. She also said that the cousins... that... live behind Aunt Pate... say that we should be proud that we've survived such incredible odds and we're in one piece and everything. I forget most of what she said they said, but yeah.

Later that evening, I called Grandma, because I didn't appreciate the bullshit that I got from Delford. It was retarded. She said that Rowland moved out because he didn't need to stay there for any period of time and he just chose to move out for no reason. She says she didn't know about the suicide attempts. She said that Rowland's depression is coming from the computer. But, when I mentioned how everyone was bullying him around, how Uncle Sonny was stealing Rowland's money, and how they expect Rowland to come straight home after work, she went off with "THAT'S A LIE. Don't believe anyone who said that, because THAT'S A LIE." She got extremely defensive of that. Beforehand, I sincerely believed that Grandma really didn't have a clue what was going on, given she's mid-80s and all that. But she does. For her to get that defensive, she knows what's going on and she doesn't want to assume blame for any of it. Additionally, she seems to think that "have a nice life" is something everyone says at the drop of a hat. That makes no fucking sense and I know she knows it. But, instead, she wants to turn it around and say that I "always assume the worst of everyone". Sorry, but no. I assume the best of everyone, even people who hate me. And I find it ridiculous how she tries to assume that we are to blame for everything. Rolicia said that Grandma blamed her for an ex-boyfriend hitting her, and I'm beginning to think that she assumed the same when I got mugged. "Why?"

Whatever the case, I was done with that conversation for the night. I wasn't getting anything out of them and I don't really care.

As it stands, I suppose I'm on my own now. The family really doesn't give a shit about us, especially not me as the "demon child", but the fact that Rowland is taking so much shit is a clear sign that they don't care about any one of us, especially since Rowland's been the good little sheep that does everything that they want him to and gives them money and everything. We're basically being taken advantage of and used as tools to be summoned as they're allowed to not do anything whatsoever in their old age. They've even admitted to this—"You're supposed to take care of us now that we're old!"—much like Mommy admitted to not giving a damn about me or Rowland just because we're the male children.

Sunday.
Sunday was uneventful... except that Rowland needs to go back to Grandma's to pick up some stuff that he's forgotten. This has not happened yet, as Rolicia does not want him to go back there alone. But. Rolicia just came got me from Sheppard–Pratt (I was at this eating disorder speech thing recommended by my therapist), Yahya in tow, and we all went over to Deborah's where this all was explained in full. Since this entire entry is the explanation of this talk, I don't need to highlight anything. Though, Deborah... seemed to be a little bit more interested in Rolicia's techno-toys than she was in the story. That doesn't surprise me at this point. But, what DOES irk me is the fact that I went to the MPT to talk about it to someone, and yet... the only two people who really seemed to give a shit about it were Jocie and Holly. Jocie slightly more so, but she didn't really know what to say and she left really early into my ranting; Holly did talk to me the entire rest of the time I was in there. Otherwise... the rest of the MPT was just like "oh, your family sucks. I'll now talk about my family gratuitously and not give you any acknowledgment of your CURRENT SITUATION." People say they did it because they want to show that they can relate and that they care about me, but that is not what it looked like to me; all I saw was everyone assuming it was storytime. That, and I wasn't getting any "love" from anyone. All of that went to Yagami and Scratch just as soon as they signed on and starting their own ranting, with everyone glomping and cuddling each other and I'm pretty much a wallflower. Now, I am not saying that anyone else's dilemmas are lesser than my own (though, at the moment, I'd like to), and I am not calling either Scratch or Yagami out as terrible people as they are not; I'm just saying that it's inopportune to draw attention away from someone when something's going on with said person RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

So, naturally, I walked out.
To bring up how I felt about that at the moment would have devolved into shouting matches, and that is something I really don't care about right now. But hey. No one really gave a damn when I was having my episode back during the holidays; why should they give a damn about the continuation of this shit? It doesn't surprise me.

But whatever to all of that.
I'm sure people make mistakes and are not fully aware of the weight their actions have. It's not like I haven't made the same mistake; a friend of mine bitched me out hard back in 2004 when I last made that mistake, and I've made sure to not remove attention from the affected party whenever something's going down in their lives that they feel they need to talk about.

...This morning, I said that I needed Delford to say something to me. So I sent another text message: "And to be honest, I would like to know what's going instead of receiving a passive-aggressive "fuck you". I have done nothing that I am aware of." Rolicia is apparently going to try talking to our sister-in-law and see if she's more accessible than Delford is; why does something tell me to expect JoAnne is not allowed to talk to us or some shit? Whatever. It'd be nice to talk to Aunt Pate, at the very least, even though I seriously doubt I'll have the ability to with all these evening classes. And, in either case, Rolicia still wants to try to have the whole family sit down and talk about this crap. At the same time, we all think that this will be completely fruitless, as they've never listened in the past and never believed us, so why would they now, especially after the level of caring they've just displayed after having all this information dumped on them would make the Care Bears cry? Most of it would probably just be us venting, talking to a wall. I don't see the effectiveness in this. The elder family members are so damn sure that everything they do is right and infallible, and it's not more apparent than it is right now.

It's like I've said to my sister a month ago when I had my talk with her. I'm done. I'm sick and tired of having to perform for the family. My uber-Christian family. Seriously, though. Does all this fuckery that they engage in make them think that they're going to heaven when they die? Making everyone else seem horrible so that they look good in comparison?

All I really want at the moment is closure. If my family refuses to talk to the three of us after this (well, two; no one seems to have anything against Rowland directly yet, just me and Rolicia), then so be it. At least they can be grown men and women and tell us what their deals are. Is it the history that we have as a race? Does our family have something in it that just recurs through the generations which leads everyone to fear inadequacy? Family customs and traditions? Or are our genes just fucked up? What is it?

You're never too old to grow a pair, guys.


And speaking of growing a pair, Virginia, I don't appreciate the lack of services for my sister while she drove up here that night. You may be a Southern state and everything, but this is 2011. Go ahead and don't serve my black ass all you want to, considering my trip biked me only ten miles into your retarded state, but for a long-distance driver at midnight, fuck you.




EDITI/02212011: Edits to the MPT bit. Clarification is needed before people take crap the wrong way. And, knowing my luck, people WILL take things the wrong way.
EDITII/02242011: Virginia paragraph. Fuck, racism is lame.

Current Music: Panic Puppet Zone Act 1 / Twinkle Cart mashup

Yeah... so I said that I'm going to screw myself over and repeat the dieting thing this semester, giving no regard whatsoever to how low my weight drops.

I changed my mind on that a long time ago, actually. Because it makes no sense.

For one, I might actually be in danger of developing an eating disorder. I took a test-thing with my therapist the other day and she sez I scored "in the danger zone" on it. ...I could always list everything concrete. I still feel quite disgusted every now and then at the thought of eating something, and I tend to go for as long as I can without doing so before I start to regret it/my stomach growls embarrassingly loud/hunger pains set in/I feel like I'm about to faint. I still don't like the way I look, even though I'm conflicted on that because I feel too skinny but at the same time too fat (in places).

But, at the same time, I've really stopped caring about the whole appearance thing and "am I fat or not". I have a lot to work with, and, as I said, I'm really only worried about building muscle at this point, for sake of functionality. And also? I'm not really as overly self-conscious about it as my thoughts may suggest I am. Everyone thinks I'm too skinny, and besides, I have plenty of other things to be self-conscious about.

So... yeah.

Though I will say this: It is EXTREMELY ANNOYING when people do not listen to me about the diet plan I put together. I can start explaining and they'll all be like "oh no you're starving yourself, you need to have this that and the other thing, you're going to kill yourself" and blah blah blah damn it shut up. After this year started, people started actually listening, and I have no clue why that is, but after I explain everything (full protein and grain requirement, got fruits and vegetables, restricted diet to 1500-2000 calories if I cared) they start going "...oh, you actually know what you're doing" well no shit. So yeah. She understands, everyone who saw that conversation about stretch marks in the MPT that day understands, so cool. ...the MPT is still riding my ass, but at least they say I actually had a diet going and not starvation.

But, basically, I'm saying here that I'm not caring so much about the weight loss thing. There are various aspects of my appearance that I hate right now for it and don't want to get any worse, mostly for worry of my health moreso than anything.

Told Holly that I want to meet her within the next six months. Muahaha. Whether by going to meet her or by dragging her down here to Merryland when or if Scratch comes up here. She seems more interested in the latter, so we might just do that. =D
Apparently she knew I had this in mind long before I even told her. Possibly long before I even had it in mind. I didn't think I was THAT obvious. Even though when I am obvious, I... am pretty damned obvious. I got skillz like that.

Well, after a week of going through a horrible period of extreme anxiety, where I would tremble really, really badly and couldn't really control that whatsoever, my plan has been put into action! And it is awesome.
...Well, if you can call it a plan. I don't know. Nonetheless, I was forcing myself to do certain things, mostly talk to people, and at the time it mostly built up stress as opposed to making me make any leaps and bounds or tiptoe steps. Since I finally bought a DS so I can play Dark Dawn (which Mythos bought for me back during Christmas... see private article), I've been using that as a route of escape. It was basically falling down a ravine of anxiety and it did not feel good. Felt even worse than the main depressive episode at its worst at some points in the game.

Anxiety. It sucks.
And I'm beginning to think it is ruling my life far more than depression ever did. Or, rather, that it might be the direct cause of it.

However, this past week has been... Stupid.
First of all, I'm happy. I'm actually really happy. I'm sure you totally can't tell by the way I'm writing, which is much like the way I write every other time I wrote something here, which is like a bunch of things I be typing. But I've been really happy over the past couple days... five or six? But, see, I've been kind of the life of the MPT, or one of them, for a little while, talking to quite a few people.

But here's the thing. Or things. I've been trembling like MAD. The entire time, no matter how confident I am, I have been perpetually trembling for reasons I... cannot explain, really. It's not fear of anything. Maybe it's residual from the anxiety explosion last week. I'll leave it at that for the moment, but damn, it's a good thing that no one can see it because it looks pretty bad. And, for second... I am almost completely incapable of eating. I'm serious. I've been forcing everything that I suppose you could say that I love down my throat, and it's been a trip doing it. Where I could eat two pizzas in a day, this week I can barely eat two slices, and the very thought of eating is disgusting me. Why this is happening now that I am happy, I don't have a damn clue. It's a drain on me, though.

And I think that's all the important crap I'll mention before I close this to prevent rambling, because by damn it's late numb tarred. Though, this: MPT has 700,000 pages now, fuck yeah. 8] I'm not on it cos I already own page 600,000; stopped posting at 699,999 and started again on 700,004. And considering how butthurt some people are at how 700K played out, I'm kind of glad I stepped out.
And this: in the MPT, Holly and I somehow or another ended up bouncing short videos back and forth. Call it a webcam battle of sorts. And it was fucking AWESOME. I was laughing my ass off and everyone in the MPT was dying of laughter, just... I don't even, it was awesome. XD
Start here. I love how everyone instantly calls out the crotch shot. o:
Annnnd I quit cos I got tired, leaving her to win. I may fail (...quite thoroughly), but at least it was an enjoyable fail. >D

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