debauchery: (Carrie: Rouge balloons)
2020-12-07 01:08 am

DDR: An Introduction.

"If a young mind is made a slave to science and treated merely as an instrument in furthering scientific progress, its education suffers, becomes narrow, and shortsighted. But if on the other hand too much emphasis is laid on the open mind, on a purely humanistic culture, there is a danger of superficiality and unreality."

That and out of a desire to separate myself from my former sappy dreamwidth that is filled with "dark eye devotion" I created this. I'm trying to record my adventures. That's a lie. These are thoughts. I doubt they'll be much else. Few things ever are.
debauchery: (Default)
2011-05-23 09:47 am

Platonic Friendships

A few years back, I helped my cousin research and organize a paper for one of her psychology classes pertaining to this topic. She wanted to write about intense friendships without sexual attraction among those of the same sex (the oprah-gayle), friends with benefits and opposite-sex friendships. Now, that this topic is so close to home, I wish to quote it and engrave it on my skull.

"...outside friendships between men and women can complicate people’s lives. And the complication is often sexual attraction. Regardless of who is attracted to whom in the friendship, neither gender considers romantic interest a good thing among friends.

No wonder tongues cluck and fingers wag. Wary husbands and wives have an uneasy sense of the temptations out there, even if they trust their spouses. “It’s like when your teenage daughter goes to a concert dressed like a slut,” says Bleske-Rechek. “She says, ‘I’m not going to do anything.’ And her father says, ‘It’s not you I’m worried about.’ ”

-Bleske-Rechek, Midwestern Psychological Asssociation

"...opposite-sex friends can expect a friendship, at some point, to cross the flirtation line. They need to be ready to deflect temptation."

-Helen Fisher, anthropologist at Rutgers University and author of “Why We Love.”

"'Above all, put your mate first. It’s not just an affair that can feel like betrayal,' he says.

'Is there such a thing as a nonsexual affair? What if you go for coffee at 10 o’clock every day with someone from work, and talk intimately with them,' he says. 'Then you go home, and you don’t talk to your spouse.' The platonic friend is getting some of the spouse’s major perks, even if it isn’t sex."

-Stanley Charnofsky, therapist and psychology professor at Cal State Northridge
debauchery: (Eric: Head on table)
2010-12-28 02:21 am

The Shit I Need List.

(in no particular order)

1. Permit
2. License
3. New phone w/h new plan/provider
4. Glasses
5. Dental check-up
6. Root canal and Fillings
7. Car
debauchery: (Buster: Zoo noises)
2010-12-12 01:09 am

(no subject)

"May I make a suggestion, hoping it is not an impertinence? Write it down: write down what you feel. It is sometimes a wonderful help in misery."

-Robertson Davison's Letter to Horace Davenport (3 April 1989)


In future-spect, you wouldn't think that four days of no updates couldn't amount to this much build-up or leave so much residue.
debauchery: (Eric: Head on table)
2010-12-08 06:38 am

(no subject)

I was supposed to do that letter writing challenge some weeks back but the the first one completely shook me up.
1) Write a letter to your best friend.

What best friend? The only one I could ever claim is no longer even a friend.

The one that I wish was already has a few life mates.

Hold on a minute. I can't be emu with this song playing in the background. Earth Wind and Fire's September. :D *dances a jig

I'll be doing the...
10 day shimmyba challenge.

* Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.
* Nine things about yourself.
* Eight ways to win your heart.
* Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
* Six things you wish you’d never done.
* Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
* Four turn offs.
* Three turn ons.
* Two smileys that describe your life right now.
* One confession

Maybe you know I'm not always honest with myself. I let myself believe I can dissect any situation and configure it. More often than not I mangle and tangle. What I detest the most is I directly caused what has become a joke to us. At least two people are happy because of it. I hope you know that I just felt in my bones she wasn't worth your time. I'm truly sorry but I guess I was a little angry at your blunt confrontation. Still it wasn't my place. The worst part is you have no idea.

Two bees from the same hive and I only wanted one at my rebirth. Why? The other bee severed ties with me but not before cursing my name to the honey-heavens and going against me at every turn. All the while he was buzzing 'round for whores. He was once my closest confidante and I really cared about him. So my finger accidentally slipped and I invited that bee to aforementioned event via a social networking site. How was that possible? I dunno, I'm accustomed to wanting all the lima beans to be with me. ++ I wanted someone who has been an amazing friend to be there and he didn't feel comfortable, bla bla. Anyway, this isn't about him. It's about us. You confronted me after I was "reborn" and then you stormed off. Dude, it was my birthday. At least you didn't pinch me like my madre did. Any who, I miss updating you on my days, our sacred girl talks. I miss your hugs and dancing around with you. I was proud to claim you as a chick friend. You got me but I guess we're both too proud. I hope our friendship still means something to you and we just let bygones be bygones.

I wish you didn't find me so repulsive that you would ignore all my calls. I wish you could see me through the same looking glass by the same light. I tell you that I am a mess and you say I have always been. Maybe you're right but you've always been a conformist. I give myself wiggle room but you just stay shut in your box. Although that expression can be applied more literally to my case I think you are the one who is trapped. I need you. I've needed you now more than EVER. You know I hate admitting I need anyone for anything. I tried to be cool with Jesus for you. You can't deny that I took care of you. The fact of the matter is that I think of you everyday and I wish you were the only one in my life again. So long, hetero life mate.

One of the things that I like best about you is that you're always right beside me. I wake to the sound of my head rubbing against you. Your aroma is all over my robe as I open my eyes. I nibble on you even when I'm nervous. I can claw into you and find an abundance of crunchy goodness. I love that your vacant eye and yellow beak are the first things I see each morn. Beyonce was right. You are soooo replaceable. I just have to make my way to the cereal aisle. Original cornflakes, you will always be my BFF. <3

I never truly know if you've written me off or still think I have a good head on my shoulders. You shut people away and it's really off-putting because you're someone that is worth knowing and would be a treasure to be close to. Stop being such a little misanthrope and be my fucking friend!

I worry about you quite a bit. I remember the first time I saw you. I sat in your parents' car and you said you liked my blue hair. You were probably just trying to be nice but those were such welcome words. +Anyone who appreciates hair dye is a-okay by my book. Except her, she's still a skank. You were always willing to harbor me whenever my emotional boat was rocking and you even helped a bit when it was sinking. I always wanted to set a good example even though you probably never looked up to me. I hope you understand through the example of my own tumultuous path just how vital an education is to a person's soul. I refused it and I was rotting. I always lectured you, I know. It was just because I really cared. I still do but I just don't feel like I can have a place in your life. I wanted to be a part of your family but your parents dislike me very much for reasons I'm sure you're aware of. You know I loved you because you reminded me of him but I didn't tell you enough when I was alive what a remarkable person you are. You're blossoming, my dear-in more ways than one so please, please take care.

I thought I forgot how to laugh until I met you. You make me want to listen to Debbie Gibson. Okaaaay, that's enough Debbie Gibson. >_<

To be honest (see #1), I kind of miss my desperation for you. It's amazing that I could hate myself enough to love someone to that degree. This might sound a little over-dramatic to those who aren't familiar with the ongoing situation and the circumstances that led up to it but everything rings true.
debauchery: (Gob: with Franklin)
2010-12-08 12:58 am

Read me if you need me.

The girls arrived.
The youngest is nine.
She is quite talkative and inquisitive.


"The thing is when you're not currently worried about survival you have the luxury of wondering what would make you happy."
-Levni Yilmaz
debauchery: (Freaks & Geeks: Daniel & Lindsay)
2010-12-06 10:20 pm

In pulse and Ego.

I have no idea how to begin this entry and so that shall be it. Reassuringly, I do have the vague notion that I will be describing my day. Here I am assuming that any one has noted the sore lack of that. What the following lines might lack in hooks they compensate with their overall sinking factor. Unlike my weakest subject (Math) I can't pinpoint the moment this all went downhill. My eyes wouldn't close until the dismal fog of a new morn thus I was bound for an all-day nap regardless of any nobler intentions. I deluded myself into thinking I'd still wish to go to class with just four or three hours of sleep. When I turned my head towards the window I knew that no sleep would come until my Vocaloid torrent purchase finished downloading. Once I was informed that it (huzzahhurrah) was complete there was still the matter of attempting to crack figure it out and there wasn't a serial code. After some fruitless efforts I resigned with a clear "fuck it" and declared I would master that goddamn program... eventually. I dragged myself into bed and pulled my five comforters close. I was afraid to place my oily face against the cotton goodness which would subsequently feed the massive "Zit Vicious" on my chin. I seem to be growing quite the little band of misfits there. Just like most misfits in this world there's no need to encourage them/social commentary. Chronologically, I slept at around seven or eight. I still couldn't go into full REM because I didn't care try to play That 70s show while Megurine Luka's voice synthesizer was installing. I opened up Little Women because I like being eight again, sometimes. The last thing I remember is wondering just what Laurie could have seen in bratty Amy. Even when she grew older and became a subservient "refined" young lady, I still found her on the edge of insufferable. The last image before I surrendered to sleep was that of dark eyes the color of cocoa beans, velvety soft and shaped like almonds. I woke up to the sound of my father opening my bedroom door telling me that it was time for school. 10 o'clock. I was in no mood. My downloading spree was the direct result of moist dark eyes that haunt me. That will probably always haunt me even when I'm old and gray. I informed those eyes that I no longer wished to be near them- the idea of those eyes gazing at- impulse. Impulse, he he says. Blue words on a navy box. Once I started thinking about impulses and wet eyeballs, my tooth began it's agonizing clang as if a thousand microscopic men were drilling into my very nerve. Yes, it's men- all of them drilling my nerves. I need less of them for a while. I informed my father that I was in pain and had no desire to attend class. My hair was up with loose clamps of damp-looking hair sticking every which way. My face was, if you remember, incredibly oily. The sight of the broken sink at four o'clock in the morning was enough for me to turn away from a pretty ambitious venture to the restroom. I was a woman with a plan, alright. Washing my face. My Dad wasn't all too surprised though he was pretty disappointed we didn't take the opportunity to hop our way to ol' TJ to have my dental issue fixed. I slept for more hours until my mother came home from work at around 2 or three in the afternoon. A plate with a bean-filled bollilo and a Styrofoam cup of Sunny D was in her hands. She handed me the cup and then demanded to know what was wrong with me. I wasn't having it at that moment. The thought of being reprimanded and lectured at that moment felt like it would just send me to the nuthouse. I requested that she leave my room. She persisted and we had a bit of a debacle where she raised her hand more than once to slap my face. Apart from the impending physical damage, I can't really blame her. In my anger, I threw the bollilo to the floor as she left. Currently, she's arranging the Christmas decorations in our living room all by herself even though she has wake up at 3:30 AM. It is 11:00 PM on the dot. I feel sorry. I do but I can't bring myself to go out of this room in all my greasy splendor. I am also genuinely upset at her reaction. The apple doesn't really fly off, does it? Well, in our cases it does. We fly off into fits of rage and sometimes we do fall. I fall harder than anyone even though I have it the easiest. I fall into pity parties, bouts of self loathing, and rituals of bad behavior. I allowed myself to simmer in my anger for a bit until I got lost in the world of editing. Out of a desire to separate myself from my former sappy dreamwidth that is filled with "dark eye devotion" I created this. I'm trying to record my adventures. That's a lie. These are thoughts. I doubt they'll be much else. Few things ever are. I made my sister listen to my Fireflies by Owl City rewrite/mix. Also my "Maybe We Can Be" rewrite of "You Belong With Me." I enjoy the former one the most because it sounds so saccharine and unbelievably bitter. I retitled it "Whores" because they light up the night better than any goddamn firefly I've seen. They also, two to be exact, lit the loins of my former partner. Bitter, bitter. I can still hear my mother rummaging through bags in the living room. It is now 11:08. I need to drown out this guilt with some music. I'm still far too into my head. After some more moments of being lost, my brother and sister-in-law stopped by my door for a chat. They inquired why there was an air mattress, hand-painted princes dresser, and coffee table in the spare room next to mine. I informed them that those were the new keeps of our future housemates- a family of three- two young girls and a mother. We continued to converse. I explained my car dilemma which goes into this impressively cyclical dance with my unemployment status. It's not even a waltz. There's a grease stain on the envelope that came along with his present. What is it with my life and grease? Is it the fault of the clump of beans that was stuck to my wall? I didn't even notice until my brother and s-i-l that it was feces. x_x Those beans were from the bollilo, btw. I regret it as it was so toasty and warm. My mother is in her room now. If I dare go outside these walls I will probably walk down the hall to see a beautiful room I took no part in creating. I wish I was a little girl talking to the porcelain figures from the nativity scene. I believed very little, even then. I guess I prayed for the comfort that was in it. I guess I told my tales and wept my little weeps because those figures were wiling to listen. Sure, they weren't too responsive but meh. I kind of want that envelope out of my sight. It reminds me of promises I cannot keep all because of a painting that is just behind me Well, I'm an ass. I just told my mother that the tree is too small when I meant to say something less bitchy. Con te partirò.
debauchery: (Default)
2010-12-05 11:37 pm

Twiddles thumbs.

My term paper is due in less than twenty minutes.

I haven't typed a line.