THE VEGGIE TALES CAUSE THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE:

This a blog I wrote on Livejournal 5 years ago tomorrow. Thought it might deserve a fresh viewing...

 
I cannot wait for this week to end...it's the last week before winter break, so, of course, it's an eternity...

Today was the last day of SafeBase (the afterschool program) until mid January. In one of the classes that I help with, the teacher decided we should just have a movie/popcorn party. Hunky Dory, except for one thing...she chose the movie... Now, she's a very sweet lady (she even brought me chocolate for Xmess), BUT she's also a Christian. Hence, the movie...A VEGGIETALES CHRISTMAS...are you familiar with these creepy little fuckers?? They are animated CHRISTIAN vegetable kid's movies. Ignoring the religious thing for a moment, they are hideously ugly...like not even remotely cutesy kiddie snugglebums...they are fucking bugeyed, limbless vegetables with faces...it's like watching quad amputees hop around a winter wonderland. The carrots look like vienna sausages and I won't even start on the cucumbers...there was one BLATANTLY racist vegetable on there...He was hispanic, and of course, worked for the bad guy. I couldn't even guess what the fuck kind of veggie he was supposed to be, but with his totally stereotypical accent (I WEEEL HEP YOU MEESTA), I am surprised that he wasn't a head of lettuce (I guess they figured he wouldn't be able to pick himself).

The whole theme of this animated abortion was that the veggie kids, or what the fuck ever they are called, had forgotten the true meaning of Christmas, due to the bad toy factory owner's advertisements on television encouraging materialism. A renegade toy wakes up in the factory and figures that there HAS to be more to Christmas than whining for more toys, so he ventures out to discover the meaning of it all. This goodie two shoes toy was so fucking irritating that I kept praying for the bratty kid from TOY STORY to come along and shove a M80 up his ass... Of course he discovers it from some wise old brocoli or something and he, with his new salad fixing friends, feel the need to spread the word (of course, we know how Christians LOVE to gossip). Off they are to spread the story of baby Jesus...who unfortunately never surfaced, as I was dying to see what he would be portrayed as...I was tossing back and forth between a brussell sprout and an eggplant with a breadstick crucifix and an onion halo...

Anyway, it was all warm and sweet and holy and all that shit, I suppose. I just spent the whole half an hour scanning the room for something to impale myself on. Elementary school chair legs NEVER looked so promising...Oh yeah, and kid feet stink to high heaven...like old cheese and moldy ass...just because we are watching a movie doesn't make it your living room children...


So, there is your warm hearted holiday story...now fuck off and get me a beer...

Happy birthday...

It's my 37th birthday. I spent the day with my family, which was wonderful. I'm lucky to have them in my life. I spent the weekend with Kendra and I'm not sure what I would have done without her here. She headed home about 30 minutes ago. Her David needs her and I can't be selfish. I'm sitting here in the silence. I don't care how pathetic or emo this makes me, but I just want to know why I can't stop hurting. I don't know that I have ever felt this alone and sad. I SO don't want to be "that guy", but my heart is absolutely fucking broken. I try so hard to soldier on. I job hunt, I am getting things going for school, and I go about my days, I try so hard not to show it to you...but it is hard. I hate that I'm not as strong as you...I hate that I'm not as controlled as you...I hate that I feel so intense and loud...Time is making things harder. I have never loved like this before and that it is out of my life is excruciating. I know the reasons. I know people have to be healed and whole before our paths converge again...I can rationalize all of this. I get it...What I can't get is how much this fucking hurts. As fucking Lifetime movie cliche as this hole in my life is. This sick to my stomach, ache that I feel for most of the hours that I'm not lucky enough to be asleep.I don't want to be this way. I am going on with life. I am functioning. I'm not wallowing...but I'm also not healed. I'm not ready for this to be life. For six fucking years I have seen a path of up and down and sideways and laughing and hurt and lust and tenderness...I saw titanium on my finger and a Cure song in my head. Life may go on. Things may change. I'm not sure where that path is headed now. Now, I'm not sure what I see...I just know what I feel...

The Livejournal logo still makes my heart ache...

It is interesting to me, thinking this evening, that I spent the last 4 years, feeling more loved than I ever have in my adult life, and yet, the last two weeks feeling more lonely and isolated than I think I could possibly feel...

December...

I'll finally try to sleep...the alcohol thinning of my blood, a last gasp attempt at being numb...the moving furniture and the stink of cheap beer, the shallow laugh track and remote controlled fingers, all a feeble distraction from what has led up to this...the defining moment...the time I knew I should dread, but still convinced myself was tolerable. Do you know that I put them on to drown out the silence? Do you somehow feel it? The suede banshees attempting to cure me of the lies I spent the whole night telling myself...there is something in that silence that I don't want to hear. Something that I pray that you hear too...something in that last beating picture of you that I cling to, as I stare at the ceiling, and pretend to understand.

A drowning man takes down those nearest.

I honestly don’t care how typically gay it may make me sound, but Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? is, without a doubt, one of the most brilliantly written and acted films that I have ever seen. I am always in utter awe of how hideously funny, yet emotionally eviscerating the dialogue is. It’s hilarious to me that every time I watch this classic film starring Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, I approach it with the apprehension and emotional preparedness one usually reserves for some ridiculously violent European horror film. Watching the downward spiral of an evening spent with two people that love each other enough to absolutely fucking despise each other has always left me feeling stunned, squirming, and emotionally drained. To this day, I have never seen a film that manages to balance hilarious cocktail party quotes/insults with some of the most brutal commentary on human behavior, insecurity, and dysfunction that I have ever witnessed. I am very certain that this was the wrong film for me to watch tonight, of all nights, but I was drawn to , nonetheless….

why do my eyes constantly go to what is missing?