Concerning Breasts.

It is always hard to realize things about yourself, especially when one is as me. But this time it feels even harder.
I have grown to have somewhat of a positive attitude about my looks. Compared to before, that is. See, I know I'm not exactly pretty, but I'm fairly convinced that I am somewhere above average. I would in no way refer to myself as ugly because even though it feels that way at times, I know there are those who have it worse than me.
But I always had one thing going for me, and one thing only. I have reeeeeally nice boobs. I've had boobs since I was eight, and as some of you know it's not always a good thing. You see, I was also a reeeeally ugly kid. I would pick on me myself if it wasn't for the fact that, well... I am me. Seriously. I was that ugly. And I was told so everyday. In fact, the only thing ever appreciated was the fact that I have a relatively large bosom. So I have taken so much pride in them, because they're pretty much one of the very few things, if not the only, I like about myself. When it turns out that others also liked them, I took even more pride in them.
Yes, I know I should have a wee bit more confidence and I know I'm being far too honest in public right now. But here's the thing.
Due to certain circumstances in my life at current, I have lost a lot of weight. I've been wanting to, since I gained a lot of weight a while ago that I haven't really been able to lose. But losing weight means fat reduction. And what's the main thing on a woman's body that consist mostly out fat? That's right. Breasts.
I've been feeling uncomfortable with myself, more so than usual, for a couple of weeks now without being able to pinpoint why. Now I know. My breasts have gotten smaller. Not small (in other people's opinion), but smaller. And I don't really have proof since I haven't worn a bra in like... weeks. But I can feel it. Sense it, if you will. They're not weighing me down as much. They feel so... different. And I reeeeeally don't like it.
Because... if you take away my boobs, then I have nothing left at all going for my looks. I know, I know, it's wrong to put so much of my confidence in one thing, but they really have been my pride since I first got them. Not because of others, but because - I - love them. Honestly, there's no part of my body I feel so comfortable with as them. Always have been. Coming from me, that's a lot, because I have a real low self-esteem. So low it's more often self-loathing than self-esteem. Even more so now, heh.
And it's weird to think, since I've complained so much about it, but I would actually rather gain weight again than lose them.

Once again, I have no idea why I write about this. I mean, first of all, why would anyone want to read about my breasts when they're shrinking? Otherwise, anyone would be happy reading about them since my breasts are so awesome. I mean, seriously. My boobs rock. Second of all, self-pity is never appreciated, which I would say this is a lot of. And I really don't want to talk about it, so if anyone of you write anything encouraging, attempted flattery or just...anything, I will probably end up erasing it. So just pretend you never read this so I can get it out of my system without talking about it.

Concerning Irrelevance

Sometimes I am amazed by the irrelevance of this blog. I have absolutely nothing to contribute to the world, yet still I inflict my blog upon it. What has it ever done to deserve such a horror?
Well, what did the world do to deserve the Seven Plagues?
When you consider the matter in that light, my terror isn't nearly as bad and I feel kind of good about myself. Although for some reason I have been feeling a bit... biblical lately. I believe it is time for me to learn more about stories and legends of other religions so I can start refer to them as well. Schools should teach more of that and less of christianity. A little more variation, please.

To return to irrelevance, I read through some of my earlier posts and I realized what nonsense I have written. Half of it doesn't even make sense, when read as written. And the lack of updates of my life, the only thing that interests those who read this, has apparently caused a grave amount of distress, as some of you readers have voiced very loudly to me.
But to be honest... I have a very uninteresting life right now. Or, well, I do have some elements of interest going on, but nothing I feel like sharing in public. I must be one of the most boring persons in the entire blog-society. But I actually never have anything interesting to say. Or I have lots, but due to my five-seconds-attention-span it disappears somewhere into the oblivion that is my conciousness. I think my mind is like a black hole... things get sucked in and mysteriously disappears. Well, not exactly disappears, I am quite certain that it stays in the black hole of my mind, since it resurface briefly at times, when needed. But I may very well be unable to recall it on my own. I don't know, I don't usually try. Probably because of previously mentioned attention span.

Even though I lead a very uninteresting life with a very chaotic mind, people are wrong to assume that I am, well, dumb. Because in contrary of what my blog may present me as, I am rather intelligent beneath the surface, and if I would want to be I can also be very serious. Still, I fear my irrelevance haunt those two traits in me as well. Probably because I tend to get bored very easily. Probably because I am a very creative person. I need a certain level of... not quite intellectual, but... let's say creational challenge of a sort, to keep things interesting to me.

Friends and loved ones often tells me that I talk a lot and that I talk fast.
Should any one of them actually get a preview of how my mind works they would realize that I kind of have to, just to keep up with what's going on inside. The speed of my thinking would give a new meaning to the phrase "my mind is racing". So when one take this into consideration, it may not be as surprising that my posts are very irrelevant. It may start out with one thing that does make sense, but halfwaythrough I have completely forgotten what that one thing was and continued with a dozen other things that have nothing to do with what I started writing about at all.
Huh. Maybe that's why I suck at writing reports in school.

So... what does this have to do with you readers?
That's simple. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have no idea why I write this entry. It's no more than yet another uninteresting post in the long line of irrelevance that precedes it. Maybe I'm feeling philosophical. Maybe I'm bored. Who knows? (Who cares?)

Did I have a point in writing this at all?
I suppose I did. But you know, with an attention-span like mine, one can never tell what I intend with anything I do.
It's most likely a lost cause the very minute I start it, because everything I begin seems to get a life of it's own after a while and if I ever am able to remember what its purpose was, I find that the finished product rarely is what it was intended to be.

Although, it takes about five seconds and then I don't really care anymore at the moment.


Oooh! Ice-cream truck! :D :D :D

The Horde Wars

So... I read a new book. Actually, I read a trilogy of books. By Sherri L. King. A friend of mine had recommended these books for me as good fantasy. Imagine my surprise when about 30 pages into the first one, "Ravenous", a very detailed act of wild, savage making out pops up. Yeah... I was kind of surprised. Mostly of how she had written it. I was almost about to stop reading, dismissing it as a genre best described in my native tongue. 'Tantsnusk'. But there was something more that caught my interest, even before I could put my finger to what. I read the whole book, but about halfways through I realized my suspicion was true. This was not a fantasy novel. This was porn. Forget that mellow romance-porn-thingie that Harlequin publish, where cleaned up phrases like "his quivering member" appears. This was outright porn. Female-written of course, but porn nonetheless.
Yet I still found myself swallowing (haha ^^) page after page and before I knew it, I had read the entire first book. Not only that, I immediately proceeded to the next one, "Wanton Fire".

I will admit that I was equally fascinated by the development of the storyline as I was by the development of their sexlife. Despite what many people think of me, that is actually not like me. Sure, I do read erotica, I can stand for that fact. But more as a pastime than anything else. It never really... sticks. But this did, and it took me a while before I started wondering why this was so different. I came to the conclusion that yes, it's porn, but it's very well-written porn. I actually got more turned on by the words than the acts themselves. :P
Really, the way she uses the words so vividly was enchanting. I have never read so many different ways to describe sexual acts, so even though every ten or twenty pages they had sex for five to ten pages, it never got boring or repetitive, every time was like the first time. And I did find it amusing at several times during their... explorations. I leave it at that for your sake, precious. ^^

When I came to the end of "Razor's Edge" though, I was incredibly disappointed. It just... ended. Just like that. I can't begin to explain how deeply frustrated I became. I was all like... wait? What happened with R? And who was the man in black? And the Horde, what happened to the rest of the Horde? Noooooo! You can't do this to me!!

I really, really hate it when I read a book that in the end leaves a lot of loose ends. Some people like that, since they can use their own imagination, but for me it's more... it's not my story, thus I cannot know how it ends. I can't fill in the empty gaps, because it makes it less... real. I have a very complicated relationship to books and stories and such. Ask me some day and I might try to explain it. Anyway, back to my frustration.
I got a little obsessed by this massive disappointment and had to check out if there are more books in this serie. What do I learn instead? She is not an outright fantasy-author as I was lead to believe. She is in fact an erotic romance-author, who prefers fantastic settings. Almost the same, but with a distinct difference, I was told. ... yeah. Who cares?
But more importantly, I also learned that there are in fact two more books in the series, "Sacred Eden" and "Lord of the Deep". That was a relief. ^^

I liked these books. I really, really liked these books. :)
Or I might just be itching to know what happens in the next two books, but either way I obviously want to read more. Although, with me you never know if it is because the books are actually that good or if I simply have taken a liking to them for my own reasons. ^^
But again, I liked them and that's all I care about. ;D



And come to think of it... doesn't the intro to Rescue Rangers sound an awful lot like the intro to McGyver?

Remembrance.

On this day, five years ago, I died.


Five years. Can you imagine, love? That it has already been so long ago?
I can't. It still feels as if you will be there if I only turn around. Though at the same time I am so very aware of your absence. There is a huge aching void in my heart reminding me every day.
It never goes away. The pain. It has not faded. I have not numbed. It burns my inside constantly. Sometimes it still knocks the air out of me, and I grow weak. I guess there are wounds even time cannot heal. ... as if I didn't know.

It still happens that I dial your number before realizing that you are not there to answer my call. And it hits me like a thousand bricks, every time. I should be used to it by now. Shouldn't I?
Yet it still breaks my heart every time I remember reality. Remember...
I hate the memories, for they are all I have left. I hate the tears, brought forth by the emptiness you left behind. And I hate... that not a day goes by without me missing you so much it actually does hurt.

Five years... and I'm still bleeding.

If I could I would give all I have for one more day with you, one hour, one moment, one... last look... upon your smile.
I do not mean to wallow in my grief. I do not wish for it to linger as it does. But how can it not? You were my everything. The single thing that kept my chalice from shattering was you and the one thing now keeping the pieces apart is... you.
... your fate broke me.

Even now I am struggling with the aftermath of that loss. But I have accepted my fate now. And gradually, it is getting easier to breathe. The pain is no longer crushing my chest, it is reduced to simple mental distress. Simple... heh.

I pray, to whatever deity that holds you now, that you are well. That you may truly rest in peace and that none of your past pains torments you now. I hope that you have met up with Ember and the others. I know that you can tell I am trying. I know you know... everything.
I do bare my soul a little too much, don't I? You always told me I was bad at speaking my heart rather than my mind. I still am. Despite this.

Mourning you comes in such abundance I cannot contain it all. It is bound to leak out of me. And I don't mind. But I would rather that they know of the you I loved than the you I lament.

This day in my life is for you. Every year it has been for you, every year it will be for you. I will not forget all the joys you brought into my life. All the relief, the happiness, the love... I will remember until the day I join you. Where the heavens meet the earth, right? One day I'll meet you there, my love. One day...

Until then;

In Remembrance

Angel

2002-10-03



I love you.