I am no art-ist, I am an art-bitch

All I know, is all around the nation, the girls are crying and the boys are masturbating.

"No matter what your feelings are, for whatever candidate, make your voice heard. This Presidential election is the most exciting one I have seen in my lifetime. Whether you are for Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton – or even (gasp) John McCain (who I wouldn’t want to vote for because I don’t want to see my tax dollars spent on Viagra) or Mike Huckabee (who I dislike so much I can’t believe it – I would rather go see his band “Capitol Offense” than vote for him – and that is saying a lot!) – whoever you may support, your voice matters. Your vote counts – it’s a big deal. It’s everything. Whatever you do, be sure and vote. I know it’s a simple thing, but lots of people ignore it and think everyone else will do it for them. They can’t – and they shouldn’t. It’s all about you" - Margaret Cho

I may be friendly on the outside, but I am not tame by any measure. This is one of my favorite videos of ALL TIME. Enjoy.

Pointless entry of everything and nothing. Lately my thoughts have been a rubber ball, bouncing off the walls, ceiling and floor with speed and purpose but not getting anywhere. School and life in general has lost its charm. It manifests as skipping several classes without remorse and essentially letting all my work this semester swirl down the toilet. I'm stuck in a boat with one oar and I keep paddling in circles.

Every night I tell myself I won't trek down to the liqour store, and every night I'm a liar. Perhaps the answer to life/a filament of inspiration/a cure for my poison is at the bottom of this half-pint of vodka. No? Oh well, I'll just try again tomorrow night. What's that they say in AA? Keep doing what you've always done, and you'll keep getting what you've always gotten? Right, I'll drink to that.

Now some purdy wurds
--------------------------
I am an artist
yards of alabaster skin my canvas
a sharpened edge my brush
I paint and
the ruby red mouth gasps
and sputters, vomitting excrement of the soul
droplets hang heavy as their bellies swell
pregnant with my spite til they fall
and stain all they touch
unforgiving as the bitch that birthed them
the Purging

If they answer not your call, walk alone: If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall, O Thou of evil luck, open the mind and speak out alone. If they turn away and desert you when crossing the wilderness, O Thou of evil luck, trample the thorns under the tread, and along the blood-lined track travel alone. If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm, O Thou of evil luck, with the thunder-flame of pain ignite thine own heart, and let it burn alone.

-Rabindranath Tagore

Typing this is painful. Not the content, but the physical act of striking at keys.

Even through the fog of my massive hangover, I believe I've had a revelation. There is rage in me that I cannot control. I thought perhaps experiencing love would soothe the beast, pull out the proverbial thorn from the lion's paw. This is not the case. Not to say that love has not lifted a heaviness from my heart, not that being in love and being loved in return has not shed light into the world and shown me that life can consist of the beautiful as well as the revolting. It has done these things, and I treasure them. It has put a song to the scream of my soul.

But it has not put out my fire. I am still crazy, and I now realize that I will always be so. I am violent, obscene, unacceptable. Luckily, I do not take out my unending flow of anger out on anyone but myself. I punch my desk again and again until my knuckles rip and bleed, until purple and green bruises flower across my hand. The wood won't give in as easily as the walls, which is why I choose it.

This makes people scared of me. My own mother has admitted that at times I terrify her. I can understand why such madness drives people away. They do not realize that I will attack only myself. I know that it will be the death of me. One day the anger in me will burn so brightly I will end up beating myself against anything strong enough to not break under the weight of my rage until I'm nothing but a bloody pulp, murder victim to my own brutality. Nothing can save me from myself, I finally understand this. I am strangely okay with it.

My only regret is that this will drive people from me. It will frighten them too much, or they will simply tire of having to deal with it. This is my only sorrow.

If you don't beleive me, take a look at this Axe ad:

It wasn't a good day to start off with, anyway.

With hopes of unwinding, I cracked open a book soon after getting home. A few pages in I hurled it across the room with a strangled scream. If I read one more story about fucking over decent women because of big titted bimbos, or every other line being about some bitch's ass and legs and the fucking insatiable, misogynistic tendencies of men I will gouge my eyes out. What pisses me off the most is that the author is a great writer, and still such a damn pig.

I stared at the book for a while before I had to leave the room where it lay. I felt guilty because it was a present that I had tossed and left to sit crumpled and sad on the floor, but even more ashamed because I felt no desire to pick it up from its dishevelled state. As if I could punish the writer by letting his book lay sprawled in a corner.

I had planned not to drink, but in my lividity I combed my floor, scrounging up $3 in change so I could buy some vodka. I can't take it, I really can't. Even the nicest guys have almost naked models plastered to their bedroom walls. Its always the same.

I'll never be like that. I'll never look like that. I'll never feel good enough. Women are so replacable, you know? Get a prettier one and men are prey to their instincts.

The man at the liqour store remarked on my tear streaked cheeks and I snarled at him to mind his own business and give me my god damn liqour. On the way home it began to pour. I parked my car in the driveway and stood in the rain while I cracked open the bottle. Just stood there, getting drenched and drinking my vodka.

Neither made me feel any better.

To whomever it may concern,

The products I purchased today were very unsatisfactory. In addition to not removing my "hardest to eliminate" hair, your product completely ruined the manicure I had but just a few hours earlier received. Thanks to your shitty wax product I now have to stay awake much past my original bedtime to re-do the damn nails your wax fucked up. This may not seem like a problem to you, but that's most likely because your retarded conceptual staff gets to sleep in until 11 or 12 in the morning. Unfortunately I am a college student that has class at 8 in the am. I don't generally set aside time in my schedule to re-paint nails that were fucked up while trying to use your damn hair removal system. I'm sure you can imagine my disappointment when not only was my "unwanted hair" not removed, but my WANTED nail polish WAS removed.

To all other ladies out there, never buy wax from Wal*Mart. Just don't do it. It fucks you over in the end, trust me.

getting married used to be a childhood dream
but what else does one expect when marriage and childbirth determins one's worth?
when I reached the age
to think for myself
and reject standard forms of "success"
at least as far as women are involved
and I asked questions like
Why do men get paid more
for the same fucking job
than women do?
people point their fingers
and say
feminist!
feminazi!
you hate men!
you're undatable!
unmarriable!
ugly!
hateful!
bitter!
perhaps I'm all these things
but that doesn't change my mind
that women are more than
brood mares
more than
housekeepers
more than the stupid bitches
portrayed in movies
portrayed in porn
ooooh baby, give it to me!
jerk off to it, man
but the girls are faking
and you'll never come close
to giving them
a true
orgasm

as if I needed a reminder of how ill fitted I am to exist in my own damn family, it always shows its ugly face at the holidays. have things been a little too comfortable, sarah? have you made the mistake of thinking your relatives accept you? awww shit, that just won't do! time to put you in yr damn place.

evidently expressing my disgust at a woman's biggest goal in life being have a god damn baby is unacceptable in this household. forgive me, religious right, for wanting more for myself than to be a fucking brood mare! womens' largest goals in life should subsist of more than simple procreation! what the hell is wrong with you bitches?! am I the only fucking sane cunt in the world?

fuck you all.

To take much pleasure in a world filled with many kinds of beauty is a joy in life to which all women are entitled. To support only one kind of beauty is to be somehow unobservant of nature. There cannot be only one kind of songbird, only one kind of pine tree, only one kind of wolf. There cannot be one kind of baby, one kind of man, or one kind of woman. There cannot be one kind of breast, one kind of waist, one kind of skin.

Harsh judgements about body acceptability creates a nation of hunched-over tall girls, short women on stilts, women of size dressed as though in mourning, very slender women trying to puff themselves out like adders, and various other women in hiding. Destroying a woman's instinctive affiliation with her body cheats her of confidence. It causes her to perseverate about whether she is a good person or not, and bases her self-worth on how she looks instead of who she is. It pressures her to use up her energy worrying about how much food she consumes or the readings on the scale and tape measure. It keeps her preoccupied, colors everything she does, plans, and anticipates. It is unthinkable in the instinctive world that a woman should live preoccupied by appearance this way. --Women Who Run With the Wolves

if you think patience a virtue,
I'll bet I have more fun than you do;
for when I get lit
the fire burns quick,
and waiting is never an issue.

but now when I'm quite overcome,
by insticts I'll never outrun;
possibilities fill
my cranium 'til,
I see waiting is half of the fun

Guess who got an A on an algebra test?! C'est moi, motherfuckers! WOO-HOOOOOOOO!

everyone's right and nobody's sorry
that's the start and the end of the story

"Our violent nature is what makes love possible. Totally peaceful creatures would not need the balm of love. Glance in the mirror, and a predator stares back at you. Prey animals --antelope, horses, cows, deer-- have eyes located at the sides of the head, so that they can watch for danger, creeping up behind them. In contrast, the tiger has eyes facing front so that it can use its stereo vision to precisely pinpoint the whereabouts of the next meal, run it to the ground, & leap upon its neck with bared teeth. Humans have the eyes of a predator, which tells us something about our ancient origins. But we also have colossal brainpower. We are not just dangerous, we are ingenious. Without mechanisms for subduing our violent, craven & predatory appetites, we would have wiped ourselves out, adding our name to the long roll of extinction. But evolution gave us a powerful peacemaker. Our ability to love has saved us from ourselves." --A Natural History of Love

I saw before me a buffet of delectable delights; a plethora of perfectly ripe, round fruits and tender, fragrant flesh. Enticed by the display, I ate 'til I was full. So seduced was I by this succulent, sticky substance that I consumed without prejudice, and realized too late the ground glass therein. The proprietor of this feast had deceived me.

Past my lips and down my throat the misleading food fell, shedding shards of glass like tears around my heart. The glass allied together and thrust with nonchalance through my being like a bayonet. The wound yawned open through my body, opening its hungry mouth and retching from me my blood and life. Unable to defend, I collapsed against a cold stone floor. No amount of pressure would make the bleeding subside, no amount of pleading brought relief. Clawing and screaming and tearing at my hair, maddness overtook me. Tearing at the wound with bloody fingers, shrieking out beautiful and terrible verses, it was then from across the room that I spied a wrought iron poker seated next to a crackling flame.

Every step sloshed blood down my body, every shudder of pain roused another wound. At last I arrived at the instrument of my salvation, and tossed the iron rod to the flame. It glowed a bright, bitter orange and hissed in an unknown language. Hesitation not an option, I brought the poker down on myself. Bright, exploding bursts of pain seared across my torment. I was blinded by pure heat and force of will; fell to my knees in agony as my heart was burned raw and purged of this corrosive evil. Seconds, hours, weeks, could have passed as I lay smelling the scent of my own burning flesh. Only when at last the iron had cooled and my heart was scarred but no longer bleeding did I notice the enscription upon my saviour.

"Freed by pain, cleansed by fire; again for this food shall you never desire."

"Who're you calling a cootie queen, you lint lick-er!"

First name?: Sarah
Middle name?: Elizabeth
Like your name?: not in the least
Named after anyone?: bible chicks
Any nicknames?: only the privileged know
Age?: 22
Birthdate?: 10/16
Birthplace?: Dallas, Tx
Current location?: Misery, Ar
Height?: 5'4"
Like your height?: I'm ambivalent about it
Eye color?: hazel
Contacts/glasses?: contacts. I have astoundingly bad eyesight
Hair color?: reddish brown
Natural hair color?: see above
Dye your hair often?: more like spontaneously without any regularity
Righty or lefty?: ambidextrous

Your favorite...
Type of music?: your mom screamin when I'm plowing her with the strap on
Band or singer?: Garbage, Radiohead, Goldfrapp, Aimee Mann, Placebo, Jack Off Jill, Deftones, etc.
TV show?: Law & Order: SVU
Movie?: I can't pick just one
TV channel?: I tend to resent TV
Radio station?: excuse me...PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUKE
Place to be?: on the beach, or on top of a mountain
Thing to do?: swim!
Food?: anything thai and HOT
Non alcoholic drink?: dt. coke
Alcoholic drink?: I'm not doin those right now due to self-restraint issues
Animal?: kitcats
Holiday?: samhain
Season?: summer/fall/spring
Sport?: mixed martial arts
Place to shop?: etsy.com
Clothing brand?: blah
Scent?: egyptian goddess. anyone wanting direct access to my heart may go to www.auricblends.com and purchase my affection* (*no guarantee that affection will last more than 1-2 days)
Restaurant?: Thai Diner
Fruit?: strawberries
Vegetable?: avacado!
Fast food restaurant?: slim chicken's
Pizza topping?: I like it all! 'cept pinapple
Ice cream flavor?: mint chocolate chip
Magazine?: bitch magazine

Do you...
Shower daily?: yes
Sing in the shower?: occasionally, if I know no one is within hearing range
Like to sing?: very much
Like to dance?: LOVE IT. I wish I could find a club where people DANCE instead of standing around like hipster douchebags, sipping their appletinis
Smoke?: I smoke the ganja frequently, and cigarettes temporarily while I quit drinking
Drink?: QUITTING. this is gonna be a hard one, hence the cancer sticks
Cuss?: more than my mom says a lady should :>
Talk to yourself?: sure, why not? only way to get intelligent conversation sometimes
Believe in yourself?: the pendulum swings between cockiness and self-loathing
Play an instrument?: the pianer
Go to college?: full time
Have a job?: college IS my job
Like your job?: I don't get paid for it, that's for damn sure
Want to get married?: *poot*
Want to have kids?: possibly, but not for 8-10 years
Get along with your parents?: yes
Get along with your siblings?: I am the epitome of "only child"
Drive?: I drive way too much, school being 20 minutes away and all

Random...
Do you think you're trustworthy?: depends on if I like you or not
Think your funny?: I know I'm funny. S'not my fault it goes over people's heads sometimes :P
Ever toilet papered someones house?: that's retarded. when I wanted revenge, I did much more drastic things.
Gone garbage can tipping?: damn, it must be boring wherever the author of this survey originates from
How many time a day do you brush your teeth?: 2
Collect anything?: books, art, deity statues
Ever been in love?: yes
In love right now?: nope
What color pants are you wearing right now?: jeans?
How does your hair look?: shitty. I didn't have the energy for style this morning
Ever had your heartbroken?: nope
Ever broken the law?: too many times to count
Been arrested?: as a juvenile XD
Been out of the country?: not yet. travel is one of my first long term goals
Can you stick your fist in your mouth?: can you stick your face in my ass?
When was the last time you got drunk?: uhhhhhhhhhhh, uncomfortable question. next!
Do you do drugs?: ganja
When was the last time you were high on anything?: last night :D
Do you prefer boxers or briefs?: boxers
Do you like to laugh?: I love to laugh
Ever had a bloody nose?: a bloody nose is like popping your cherry when you're in mixed martial arts.
Have you ever caught a fish?: yes!!! I was overtly proud of myself, too
What was the last thing you ate?: breakfast sandwhich from McNASTY
What time do you go to bed?: 11-12 if it's a schoooooool night
What's your favorite color?: purple, green, red. yeah, you got three. deal.
Do you like to give or recieve?: both! I like giving people random presents. or at least I used to, when I had money to spend :(
Are you obsessed with anything/anyone?: recently I've been obsessed with booze.
Do you own a blender?: every alcoholic does, I think
Do you like the snow?: FUCK NO.
Ever been up a mountain?: yesssss. it's loverly
Ever been rootin'?: whattin?
Do you like surprises?: if they fall into the catagory of pleasant surprises, then yes.