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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Persephone unbound's LiveJournal:
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|Friday, June 9th, 2006|
Still at the folks' place. Feeling a bit better. Lots of time to think and re-examine life. Well, my life. If you know me, you will find the following confession hard to believe. I cannot drink alcohol anymore. What's more- I have no desire to drink. Alcoholism runs in my family and while I don't feel I ever earned the official label, drinking was a part of my life. I took it for granted. I took my body for granted. I was angry. Every time i lashed out in rebellion to my place in life, I only punished myself. It's not worth it. I have no right to expect fate to be generous if I seek to destroy what's left of me.
And how dare I complain at all? Yes, the hearing is pretty much gone, the balance, vision, endurance, ect. - all "impaired". But look what i have. I have family and amazing friends who, though they are all fighting there own personal battles, they have reached out to me, they have sent their love and concern fo rmy well-being. I have money. I have clean, beautiful homes. I am safe from violence and I have medical care. Had I been born in a 3rd world country or a previous century, i would be dead. I'm still here. I must be here for a reason. Next step, figure out why I'm still here.
|Tuesday, June 6th, 2006|
Had to journal today. Recent events make this date even more vile. Don't have the energy to say much. Had 5 seizures near the beginning of last week. Spent the week in the hospital. Had painful, inconclusive tests. Memory is screwed. Hope it comes back. Had my first anxiety attack last night. Thought it was another seizure. Docs swear all the tests point to all being ok. Feels different. Lost a lot of weight. If you know me, you know I can't afford to lose much. All I want is sleep. Sleep is my only escape from my life. From this body. But then, after the bliss, I have to wake up. I wake up each time, confused and then hit with a speeding train of truth. This is it. This is reality. I will always be trapped in this walking corpse. No, not suicidal. Not anything, really. Breathing. Regularly. That's better than i was a week ago. Maybe next week I will be better.
|Monday, May 1st, 2006|
|Friday, April 28th, 2006|
|Thursday, April 27th, 2006|
Was it just me or did this day pretty much suck? Current Mood: discontent
|Tuesday, April 25th, 2006|
The artist is the creator of beautiful things.
To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.
The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.
The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming.
This is a fault.
Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.
They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.
There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written.
That is all.
The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.
The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.
The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.
No artist has ethical sympathies.
An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.
Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.
Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art.
From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician.
From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type.
All art is at once surface and symbol.
Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.
Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.
When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself.
We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.
All art is quite useless.
|Monday, April 24th, 2006|
I just took the test from Hell. American Sign Language can go fuck itself. The first page was fine. I am almost positive I didn't miss a single one. Then we get to the section where the prof. signs a sentence (at lighting-fucking-speed) and we have to translate what he said. Um, there were 10 of those. I may have gotten 3 correct. This is bullshit! This is not some fucking elective for me! It's my fucking life! I have to learn this shit and, if i go forward with my intention of being an interpreter (ha, right) I have to be really good at it. I probably didn't do as bad as I think I did but when you spend 40 minutes staring at a projector screen with your mouth agape, trying very hard not to whimper, the outlook is not good.Fuck me. I'm gonna eat and take a nap. Escape this fucked up existence for a while. Current Mood: pessimistic
|Wednesday, April 19th, 2006|
|Functionalism and war
I am procrastinating. It's not that I don't want to do this paper (actually, maybe it is) but my brain is just not into it yet. I have a ton of info and quotes and have revised an outline several times. It's war. How can you sum up the functionalism of war in 3-6 pages? We will be penalized for exceeding 6 pages but how can you do the topic justice in such a restricted length? I have to define functionalism. I have to (in detail (?!) talk about the social problem I have chosen. I have to then list and describe the "good" and "bad" aspects of war. Why did I chose such a subjective topic? I would love to write about the social problem of girls wearing hip-hugger jeans and when they bend over, their flabby love handles, protruding gut and cheap thongs burst into view for all the public to see. This is a social problem. The benefits (though few and primarily from the girl's perspective): gets the attention of hard-up chubby chasers, allows girls once branded as "fat skanks" to feel sexy and provocative and well, I can't think of a third positive. As for the cons....um...repulsive? trashy? I dunno, I'm just being a bitch. I witnessed this very phenomenon this afternoon on the way home and the bial that rose in my throat is still there.
But back to war. From what angle to I write this thing? I could assume the role of a cold, detatched politician, an outspoken liberal, the mother of a fallen soldier, a power hungry dictator...the list goes on. To take my own perspective would only make the paper a jumble of contradictory ideologies and ramblings. Does anyone know who coined the term "necessary evil"? Isaac Asimov said that, "Violence is the first refuge of the incompetent". Einstein said, "The pioneers of a warless world are the youth that refuse military service". Alright, we've got 2 academics in favor of pacifism. Gen. Omar bradley said, "In war, there is no prize for runner-up". Opinions. War is all about opinions. Damn, this is depressing. Time for ice cream. Current Mood: confused
|Sunday, April 9th, 2006|
AWESOME weekend. Everything, start to finish, was perfect. The is no ice cream in the apartment do I am not allowing myself the alotted depression time until said substance is available. Right now I am just coasting. There is not a "booyah" big enough for what I felt this weekend. I had to write something to document my elation but truly, there are no words. Current Mood: jubilant
|Tuesday, March 21st, 2006|
This is not because you said it..well, partly but I wanted to say it on here a while back.
I love Mat.
It needed out. I feel good about it. ;-)
|Friday, March 17th, 2006|
|The times, they are a-changin'
It's St. Patrick's Day. In the long history of Raines, Evans, Collins and McGowans, this day signifies so many things. Certainly the victory of St. Pat and his extermination (expulsion? removal?) of all the the snakes in Erin was what began all this hoopla. However, over the centuries, the people and esendents from the Great Green Isle have celebrated more than the man but what he embodied. The indomnible spirit of us bawdy Mics has shaped the face of this country, if not the world(depends on how drunk we are when you ask).
The contributions of the Irish (Yeats, Joyce, Bono and Guiness), have sustained us through many hardships. Today is the first St. Patrick's Day since i was 19, that i have not been fall down drunk. Actually, I have had no alcohol at all. I am sure to have Bailey's in my coffee tonight (you can't insult the Irish with complete sobrity today) but I can say with all honesty that getting pissed doesn't appeal to me as it once did. That seems to be the trend for me lately though. What was once paramount in my life, has fallen so short of the more substantial things that make me happy now. My life of quiet desperation has become a life of joyous exultation.
Is minic a rinne bromach gioblach capall cumasach!
Happy St. Patrick's day to all you who are Irish and all who wish they were! :-)
|Sunday, March 12th, 2006|
The wekend has come and gone. I knew it would fly by. It was better than I ever could have hoped. i can't remember the last time I was so happy/sad. Other than the length of the stay, I wouldn't change a single minute. I will never forget Shiner Bock blackbean soup, tofurkey, the hike to the Riverwalk (and home again), soporific, being sung to, thumb war, and a million other wonderful memories.
Thank you. Current Mood: melancholy
|Monday, February 27th, 2006|
I have the most hilarious roommates. Current Mood: amused
|Tuesday, February 14th, 2006|
|The Good Girl
Well, it seems the curse has been lifted. For the past few years (5, 10, who knows?) I have been hell bent on celebrating Valentine's day by binge drinking and engaging in lewd and tawdry (bawdry) acts. My life, though far from perfect, is a little more settled now. I don't have this hound of rebellion nipping at my heels anymore. This is not to say that I don't still do stupid things. I mean, come on. Who would Brooke be without impaired judgement and a trite view of life? Maybe I'm just exhausted. Too exhausted to keep the cameras rolling and finally content to sit in the audience, popcorn on lap (pez dispenser on knee). Witnessing and remarking on the antics of others takes far less energy and even less money. The marionette takes a bow and cuts her strings.
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone. Current Mood: content
|Friday, February 3rd, 2006|
|sing it, brother
The sense of the world is short,
Long and various the report,—
To love and be beloved;
Men and gods have not outlearned it,
And how oft soe'er they've turned it,
'Tis not to be improved.
|Saturday, January 14th, 2006|
|a night on the town
Michelle and I had a craving for Mexican food last night so we hit the only halfway decent Tex-mex restaurant in town, On The Border. Seems like everyone had the same craving so we were told it would be a thirty min. wait. We went back outside (nice night, chilly but clear and not too cold) where Chelle proceded to ONCE AGAIN explain to James (via the ever present cel phone) that she would only agree to continue their relationship if he could handle not having sex (of any kind). Their relationship was founded on sex but now Chelle is trying to turn over a new leaf and, being the lovely extremeist that she is, is not one to do things in stages. So, poor James is left with Scripture quotations from her and an empty bed for him. I would pity him if he weren't so fucking stupid. All she wants is to be wanted. To have a man put some effort into wanting to be with her. By saying that he cannot be with her without having sex, he is making it clear that there is nothing else worth enjoying about her. Do guys not hear themselves?? And, ok, this is not the most noble of mindsets but think, james! Lie! You dumb fuck! Men have been telling women they love them to get them into bed for centuries!! He has only himself to blame. I am sure, if she felt she were in a loving, supportive, blah, blah, blah relationship, then yeah, my girl loves sex! She's only human. But noooo, the kid's brains are in his biceps. Now his sex life is in his right hand.
Anyway, so when they get off the phone, we go inside to wait some more. I am sitting, looking at the table that is to be ours when this dumbass, fucking couple just moseys (mosies?) in, passing all these hungry, bitter people, and plop their fat asses down at MY TABLE!! Have they never been to a restaurant?? Do they not know how the waiting list works?? I am fighting the urge to walk over, smile pretty and spit in their food. So, yeah, I'm pretty hungry and cranky by then. THEN! This troop of skanky Barbie look alikes walks into the bar section (wearing tight jeans and tank tops in January). Michelle and I turn to one another and no words need be said. She mutters, "you know they puke after they eat." The image of the bimbos holding their hair extensions back while their MAC lipgloss gets smudged by stomach bile makes me feel better. We finally get a table (after playing the gimp card which scores us free drinks- booyah!) and order. When the food comes, neither of us speak for 10 minutes as we try not to shovel the food in. Seinfeld quote: Elaine-
"Remember the first time you went out to eat? The different foods you've never had before? They pull out your chair and place the food in front of you. It's all so new and exciting? Now I just feel like a big, sweaty hog, waiting for them to fill up the trough."
That's what it was like. We finaly slow down to a reasonable consumption pace and have a very nice dinner with yummy strawberry margaritas. mmmm
We then go to Wal-mart for a few groceries. There is no outing more humbling, more pathetic and white trash than going to Wal-mart in Denton, Texas on a Friday night. The people you see there (mostly large Mexican families with 13 children in tow) make you realize why the world hates Americans. You want to open fire on the brainless masses...until...you realize...you're one...of...them. Isn't it funny how we acclimate ourselves to our surroundings? If you live in a large, metropolotan city, there is always something new to do. You never have to eat at the same place twice. You can walk down a street and never see the people you pass again. Here, though, in the sphincter of our beloved nation, you see the same morons all the fucking time.
We make it home and retire to our respective rooms. Though my day had been anything but stressful, I feel worn out from being hungry and hateful and then being too full and annoyed. When I get like this, it is best that I lock myself away until the voices quiet down.
Feeling much better now though. :-)
|Thursday, January 12th, 2006|
|survey from Mat
. What is the name of the town you are in right now? Denton
2. Describe, in one word, your feeling about this town. hole
3. What do you like to do on Thursday nights? depends
4. Which of the following combinations of the letters GTXIHY is your favorite?: HXITGY, TYGHIX, IXHTGY, or YTXIHG? uh, tyghix?
5. Suppose I quit philosophy and become a hair stylist at Nappy Headz in Chicago. I place a sign in the window of my boutique that reads, "I shave all those men, and only those men, who do not shave themselves." Assume, then, that all of the men in Chicago are either men who shave themselves or men who I shave. To which set of men do I belong? what exactly are you shaving on these men?
6. What book do you intend to read next? probably some boring-ass text book for my upcoming classes.
7. Of all articles of clothing that you own, which is your favorite? mm, i like my black peacoat.
8. What is the meaning of life? ha, if you figure this one out, let me know.
9. Name your favorite: board game, video game, fruit, vegetable, and song by a band that you and Mat both like. scrabble, GTA, strawberries, cucumbers, Blister in the Sun.
10. Share a funny Mat memory. If you do not have one, make one up. When he sent me veggie squares in the mail
|Wednesday, January 11th, 2006|
I'm going to update because the conversation warranted remembering but i am at a loss for words right now. Current Mood: crushed
|Sunday, January 1st, 2006|
here we go. Resolutions:
1. I will only order from Jimmy Johns once a month.
2. I will be better about returning e-mails.
3. I will TRY not to care so much about the lack of order in the apartment.
4. I will exercise 3 times a week.
5. i will TRY to keep resolution #4
6. i will use ASL more and not rely on speech.
7. I will step back when i am stressed and count my blessings.
|Sunday, December 25th, 2005|
I have just finished reading 3 extremely entertaining entries so i feel compelled to update as well. Hmm, well is going to have to be somewhat vague considering the current populants of the house and the computer's location. We were all half and hour late to church last night-a miscommunication. It was actually fine with me because I got to miss all the boring stuff but took communion and did the candlelight thing. The sings and sermon are obsolete now. Had a good morning-big country breakfast and presents. Got everything I asked for. The family seemed pleased with their gifts as well. BUT! The bestest was when Michelle dropped by on her way to her dad's house. There, in her hands, were the 2 presents I had been dying to receive and later, when i was alone and could open them in peace, I found the wait had been well worth it. I will treasure your thoughtfulness. sigh.
Merry Christmas Current Mood: content