the quick brown fridge jumped over the lazy bridge

[sx]

I wanted to get satellite Internet access on board just to be able to sign in as caroline@sapiokaravo and include a witty pm about the bomb threat and subsequent thorough search of the ship by officers and scuba divers. Oh well, boredom and lack of battery life made it impractical to do so.

When you lean on the ship windows looking out for a long time, counting passing jellyfish -23- and then, you get bored of observing them muffin-like creatures and decide to look back inside to check on your stuff, it feels like you are on DRUGS. Passenger seats spinning, cabin rotating, straight lines moving in a wavy fashion - not that I would know what it's actually like to be stoned, but I bet it is something like that. Unless the movies have it all wrong again like they do with the slitting your wrists part.

I painted my fridge brown yesterday - not because I'm fond of the color, or fridge decoration, but simply because my parents wanted to cover some scratches and I'm the most qualified person to operate a paint brush in the house. Brown is an unfortunate choice, but a necessary one, seeing it's the only color of paint we have in the village and, hey, it also matches the rest of the furniture. That this color renders the fridge invisible in low light, thus making late night navigation in the kitchen a frustrating ordeal for the hungry, I can grudginly accept. That this particular hue of brown gives birth to unwelcome implications in the presence of food, I can tolerate. What I cannot put up with is the knowledge that the very act of painting the damn fridge robbed me of being present in a defining moment of sport history. Fuck you, fridge! You won't be all that smug and smiley when the first thermodynamic law catches up with you!

:D

emotional anti-matter

I feel like there's something poisoned inside my mind, like a black stone maybe, which you may be able to sidestep, but not forever. Something that radiates misery and guilt and shame and disgust and anger and contempt every time it's touched and the only way to be completely free would be to remove it somehow, because it never stops shooting these things out. Disgust - the desire to move away from a source of perceived pollution, to banish it from the world, my world, forever. There are triggers everywhere. How will I ever be free? I despair. There is no solution. There is no convincing why I don't want to do what would by all accounts be beneficiary for me to do. All accounts? Well, being like other people, overcoming mental blocks, greater intimacy, better chances, peace of mind. The way it's presented, the benefits far outweigh the perceived costs, so I "should" just shut up and kill a part of myself that can't realistically be part of myself because what the hell do I know, I'm just inexperienced and bitter.

Not being normal is very strange. All the things you see in the movies, you experience them in a totally different way. Shit that other people put up with without batting an eyelash becomes A FUCKING TIDAL WAVE. You want to do stuff for odd reasons. "Normal" emotions like love manifest themselves like flowers with a note in your door from me, for no reason at all.

I am productive and respect myself. I stand up for what I believe. But what I believe causes me to hate my kind. How can you put up with this shit, how. It boggles my mind, say it ain't so. Say you're all just pretending. That you were tricked and lost part of your soul in the way. How can you not know better. I don't want this empowering separation you speak of. I want to be the same with the others, the strong ones, but now I can't. I'm afraid the others will reject me for trying to be like them, but I am absolutely terrified that one day, I will actually want to be like you.

I don't know what to think anymore. Ignoring the elephant in the room is draining. Confronting the elephant in the room leads to broken bones and ridiculously late nights like this one. I can't kill the damn elephant in the room because it's got the rest of you (and them) backing it up. And I can't change rooms because you only get one. CHECKMATE.

The only thing worse than overstaying your welcome is realizing that you are welcome for the wrong reasons. I see it clearly now, all my schemes, the choices I've forced, the choices that have been forced on me, they all need to go away for good. I know the feeling that comes with each one of these mindless actions though. Time for observation, and change.