Poison

Actor Crush of the Day: Harrison Ford

A black widow spider! No no no nonononono no!!!!!! There was a black widow spider. And at least ONE baby, and if there's one, there's a billion more (do black widows have a zillion like other spiders?)

No no no!!!!! I don't know what to do. It was outside, the apartment next door lady was spraying something at a plastic 5 gallon bucket, and kitchen plastic garbage bag. She said she cleaned out the stairwell and our joint area there, and swept and sprayed all over. They had been getting invaded by spiders.

OHMYGOSH! A black widow spider!!!!! I've never seen one before in my entire life; I bent down a bit so's I could see the hourglass in red on its back. It was hanging off the side ridges on the outside of the plastic bucket. EWWWWWWWWWWWwwwwwwwwwwwww!

I AM SO FLIPPIN' FREAKED! I live somewhere that there are black widow spiders. NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!! HELL NO!

Um, now that you know a little more about how horribly horrible and wierd I am, well, maybe you'll understand a bit more about why I've decided I'M POISON.

The way I think, the directions I go in, the things I like, the things my mind settles on, the things I want, the things I want to do, the things I want to spend time doing, the desires I have for things, methods of doing/getting/being things, the well the things that really make up an individual's personality . . . the MANNER of my thinking, the very way my thoughts are organized (or not, depending), the WAY my SELF runs itself, runs and operates my being, my beingness, my presence in the world, the way I interact with the world and process input, experiences, likes, dislikes, sensory information, social/people interactivity or the lack thereof, EVERYTHING there is about EXISTING and LIVING and how one IS and how one is PRESENT in the world . . . . the way my brain/personality/soul/self identifies or doesn't with things, people, places, events . . . . the juvenile humor, puns, my tendency to just spontaneously, childishly go WAY too far with things like that . . . my stupid silliness, and the fact that my personality IS that, the fact that my personality is so . . . suspicious, paranoid . . . . easily angered, easily hurt . . . . offensive/defensive . . . . my very presence in this world is an OFFENSE to the sensibilities of those around me, of people in the world. The way my mind works is offensive to the way people interact with each other in the world; is insufficient to the requirement of being, of living, of existing, in any kind of appropriate or sufficient or adequate or acceptable WAY . . . . AT ALL, EVER, EVER, EVER!

And so, I, MYSELF, my very BEING-NESS, my SELF-HOOD, MY SELF-NESS, my . . . . SELF . . . . is POISON. Far more than flawed, defective, inappropriate. I AM POISON.

But then, anyone who knows me, knows this in their heart.

Oh yeah, if you've been reading this last week, you've seen me pissed off at my ologist, and then finding comfort in the safety of a therapeutic relationship, and then getting pissed off again, or if you haven't seen the latter, I'm talking about that now, cause I'm back to that. Maybe I was just finding comfort in the IDEA of a/the therapeutic relationship. Then again, I've probably idealized THAT, TOO, and done that stupid splitting thing. Further proof of my incapacity to deal. My incapacity to GET REAL.

I SUCK.

Bye.