This Angry AnoMALIE is not an ANoMALIE I like... and I'm sure neither do any of my friends/family.
Aside from channeling the anger into workouts where I nearly kill myself (if it doesn't hurt, I'm not doing enough. I live by Radiohead's "Creep" line: "I don't care if it hurts, I wanna have control." There's a joy in that hurt that keeps me from thinking about anything other than how irritating it is to get sweat in your eye and not being able to wipe it off because you're in the middle of a circuit/squat session. It's true that I don't care about the hurt, because THIS hurt I can control... and it feels SO damn good. Ok, I'm off THAT tangent), I've gone back to painting. I'm working on an oldie but goodie right now. I might post a photo of it if it comes out like I picture it in my head (a lot of "happy little trees"... though they're not too happy, since they're all bare... my favorite type of tree).
So far, it has worked today.
It also helps that Mexico played today and massacred their opponent once again in the... Gold Cup? I don't know which tourney it is in english, since my soccer life revolves around the spanish language. My boys Dos Santos, Chicharito, and De Nigris scored... what else can I ask for (ugh, besides wishing that damn doping scandal five of the squad members are encountering would have never happened. Fucking idiots)?
I'm ok. Or at least getting there.
Know who's not OK now? My sister.
Poor girl is currently going through some shit I went through in the past.
Last night Sister was supposed to go to her friend's birthday party, but since she had to be an adult, she ended up working until 2AM.
Her friends were all at the party, and ONE in particular, the ONE who follows her on Twitter started talking shit about her to everyone else. It got to the point where he started reading Sister's tweets out loud... at the party.
What kind of shit is that? Fucking prick.
Luckily, it appears the only prick at the party was that ONE guy. Everyone else started telling him to mind his own goddamn business and quit talking shit.
Still, once Sister found out, she was heartbroken and irate at the same time (see, it's hereditary. Mom's personality seems to be pretty fucking dominant. Though I guess this is more of a Nature vs. Nurture type deal, huh?).
While my drama wasn't Twitter-related, I have had two occasions where someone recites word-for-word part of my blog to me. That has been pretty infuriating.
I had to lock up my original on-line diary because something like that went down... and because a family member found it and went to my parents and told them I needed... I think he said "psychological help" (bitch, please, I was 19. You think I was troubled then? READ MY SHIT NOW!). Fucking asshole better not find me now, or else he'll probably propose a fucking intervention for me.
Sister went ahead and deleted her Twitter, since you can't lock that shit like you can a diary (well, you CAN make it private, but remember, the shit-talker WAS one of her friends who she allowed to follow her). Instead of deleting her "friend" she went ahead and got rid of the drama all together.
Poor kid.
So yeah, she's the one moping around the house, hating life right now.
Surprisingly, I managed to tame the beast within who wanted to go to this guy's house and rip his balls off (since he clearly has no need for them, being that he's such a fucking PUSSY).
ARRRRRRGGGGG! ME SO ANGRY... AGAIN!
Nah, just kidding.
Aside from channeling the anger into workouts where I nearly kill myself (if it doesn't hurt, I'm not doing enough. I live by Radiohead's "Creep" line: "I don't care if it hurts, I wanna have control." There's a joy in that hurt that keeps me from thinking about anything other than how irritating it is to get sweat in your eye and not being able to wipe it off because you're in the middle of a circuit/squat session. It's true that I don't care about the hurt, because THIS hurt I can control... and it feels SO damn good. Ok, I'm off THAT tangent), I've gone back to painting. I'm working on an oldie but goodie right now. I might post a photo of it if it comes out like I picture it in my head (a lot of "happy little trees"... though they're not too happy, since they're all bare... my favorite type of tree).
So far, it has worked today.
It also helps that Mexico played today and massacred their opponent once again in the... Gold Cup? I don't know which tourney it is in english, since my soccer life revolves around the spanish language. My boys Dos Santos, Chicharito, and De Nigris scored... what else can I ask for (ugh, besides wishing that damn doping scandal five of the squad members are encountering would have never happened. Fucking idiots)?
I'm ok. Or at least getting there.
Know who's not OK now? My sister.
Poor girl is currently going through some shit I went through in the past.
Last night Sister was supposed to go to her friend's birthday party, but since she had to be an adult, she ended up working until 2AM.
Her friends were all at the party, and ONE in particular, the ONE who follows her on Twitter started talking shit about her to everyone else. It got to the point where he started reading Sister's tweets out loud... at the party.
What kind of shit is that? Fucking prick.
Luckily, it appears the only prick at the party was that ONE guy. Everyone else started telling him to mind his own goddamn business and quit talking shit.
Still, once Sister found out, she was heartbroken and irate at the same time (see, it's hereditary. Mom's personality seems to be pretty fucking dominant. Though I guess this is more of a Nature vs. Nurture type deal, huh?).
While my drama wasn't Twitter-related, I have had two occasions where someone recites word-for-word part of my blog to me. That has been pretty infuriating.
I had to lock up my original on-line diary because something like that went down... and because a family member found it and went to my parents and told them I needed... I think he said "psychological help" (bitch, please, I was 19. You think I was troubled then? READ MY SHIT NOW!). Fucking asshole better not find me now, or else he'll probably propose a fucking intervention for me.
Sister went ahead and deleted her Twitter, since you can't lock that shit like you can a diary (well, you CAN make it private, but remember, the shit-talker WAS one of her friends who she allowed to follow her). Instead of deleting her "friend" she went ahead and got rid of the drama all together.
Poor kid.
So yeah, she's the one moping around the house, hating life right now.
Surprisingly, I managed to tame the beast within who wanted to go to this guy's house and rip his balls off (since he clearly has no need for them, being that he's such a fucking PUSSY).
ARRRRRRGGGGG! ME SO ANGRY... AGAIN!
Nah, just kidding.
1 comment:
So that's who it was that I was missing. :[ Spineless squid!
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