Hate

Hate seems like a strong concept. Too strong of one to be taken lightly. A profound concept that is not given to us unless it is really and truly deserved. Not a word to just be thrown around. It requires appropriate understanding and energy to keep and develope it. I don’t think there is a single person on this planet that I dislike enough to say I “hate” them. Even the people who have fucked me up and gave me mental disorders and ruined my life. These people, I want to kill them and cut their faces off in anger and then hang them on the wall like a trophy collection in a dark room that only I know about, but I don’t “hate” them. At least, I don’t think I do. They say when you’re in love, you just know. If I truly hated them, wouldn’t I just know it?

They say love and hate come from the same place in the heart, and are sometimes confused for each other. Am I waiting for that one special person to hate with all my being? Will it be hate at first sight? Will I still want to cut their face off? What does it take to hate someone at all? I’m pretty sure I’m not confusing love with hate when it comes to E. Evidently being given some PTSD isn’t enough for me to hate, but perhaps, if it were a LOT of PTSD I would feel differently. How will I know when its hate? True hate?

When will I meet my Soul Hate?

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People Doodles #5

Went to a BBQ for the Fourth of July that had a whole bunch of people attending. Met some new people who probably won’t bother remembering my name, hah. 

When I was doodling, people would avoid looking at me. For some reason drawing at a public event is weird or something. People don’t like it. They pretend it’s not happening and ignore you if you do that, but they’ll glance at you sideways with that look that says “someone is being weird”. But some people ignored what I was doing while still chatting with me. By contrast if I were doodling ALONE in the park (not part of a group) or at a coffee shop or somewhere, people will approach me and ask me about my drawings and drawing aspirations. Or just smile pleasantly with silent approval. It’s a strange dynamic going on here. 

It’s also funny that people think other people don’t see when they give them the “that’s a weirdo” look and act nonchalant like they didn’t even notice you’re a weirdo. Like, just because I’m weird doesn’t mean I am blind to facial expressions hahah. But I guess they just can’t help it. 

Lifey Bit #7: Fuck you, I Love you

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I was sitting in my apartment, playing Skyrim, when I was shocked by a woman screaming from outside.

It is not particularly strange to hear the insane screeching of a madwoman in the great and weird city of Portland. I went to the balcony, to investigate, make sure it was nothing serious. I heard her scream, “let me out!” repeatedly; I was worried. The sky was still a dark blue with the near-gone sunlight of the late afternoon. There were hardly any cars on the street, just a bus stopped at the crosswalk. The screeching was clear and loud, as if it was right in front of me, but I saw no one screaming. Only a couple of my neighbors standing on the sidewalk all staring off in the same direction, wondering if it was serious or just some random craziness (99% of the time it’s the latter); one guy had his phone ready in his hand.

Then I saw the woman appear from behind the bus and quickly make her way across the street. She seemed young. She was white and had long black hair and wore a pink sweater. She shrieked, bloodcurdlingly loud, like a banshee, projected across the parking lot and street as clear as day. But she wasn’t running, nor were there any other people near her, or cars, no apparent dangers. The first assumption is drugs, but who knows. In between incoherence, a shrieked “fuck you!” and “I need you!” and “I love you!” pierced the air. It was haunting…creepy, it didn’t quite echo but felt as if the sound came from everywhere. It was also curious. How could someone scream ‘fuck you’ and ‘I love you’ in one motion? Thinking of the possibility she wasn’t on drugs, made it sad…but also even more creepy. I like to imagine the circumstances behind anyone stringing these words together in terrifying shrieks in near-public. If I were closer, would I have been able to see that she was crying?

The neighbors dispersed once they began hearing the ‘fuck you, I love yous’. Curse words immediately quell the sense of emergency of a scream in the city. But I was a bit entranced. It’s not often one gets to freely hear a woman’s shrieks echoing ominously throughout the silent night world, like an angered wraith in a cemetery…not without being able to just listen to it anyway (rather than making for the 911 buttons and bolting out the door to the rescue).

The enchantment was broken when a man yelled “Hey! Shut the fuck up!”

People Doodles #4

Doodled some people while waiting for a friend at the mall. Sat near the carousel so I could draw some children (and because its a PokeStop). I need to draw more children; they are difficult. Their body proportions are all off! Those heads! So big! And their parents dress them in such cute little outfits! Except I ended up drawing only a couple. Feels extra creepy drawing children when their parents catch me…

I couldn’t listen to my music, so I could hear some of the conversations between the kids and their parents. The way adults condescend children so brutally kind of upsets me. Adults talk to children as if they are pets: in a baby voice, or treating every word/action they say with “awws” without actually listening or watching, or issuing commands (“come here, boy!” “Stop doing that!”) without explaining things and getting mad when the children make loud noises, even just flat out ignoring them, staring at their phones. Children are people too! Just because they are naive and don’t know much about the world doesn’t mean they are stupid; not a sheep on a rope, not a kitten with a yarn ball. Why not be a decent person to the thing you’re supposed to be nurturing and educating? Okay, rant done.


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People Doodles #3

I don’t get out much, so I have to people doodle where I can. I was planning on doodling peeps at the BBQ I was supposed to go to, but plans changed and I just went out to get pizza and stuff with Dad instead.

People doodling in a moving car is bad for two reasons: 1) epic car sickness and 2) people in their cars really, really, don’t like being stared at by other people in other cars…its weird. Is it like a psychological thing? People not in cars don’t mind so much, whether I am just hawking at them like a weirdo in the flesh or from inside Dad’s car, but once they are in the confined windowed space of their vehicle, it becomes like an affront to privacy if someone is looking at them, like someone walking in on them in the bathroom. Curious! Humans are kind of weird about things, right? I suppose cars are kind of like people second-bedrooms where they don’t sleep, right? I wouldn’t know, I don’t drive.

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Lifey Tidbits #2

First bunch of tidbits here.

1/21/15

In the classroom where Poetry class is held, I arrive early. There are only four people in the room, including myself. I head to my normal seat, affixed by my Asperger’s need to sit in the exact same seat every day, but I see that the guy I sit next to is using my chair as an ottoman. I say “may I sit?” and notion at the chair. He removes his feet, but flings in hand in the air and rolls his eyes in the way that says “What you said is perfectly ridiculous.” Without my control, I snap at him, “Fine. I won’t then.” and sit in the next chair over. He said “It’s not my chair…!” in exasperation. I don’t say anything further, and go about arranging my things on the desk like normal, perfectly aware of the two other people in the room probably wondering what the heck just happened. Not sure why I snapped so suddenly. It’s not like me. Too much pet peeve. Makes me want to sock the person. Especially if they are female. It might also be because of the grieving process. I don’t know, I feel stupid but it felt good to stick up for myself even if it was over something so incredibly dumb.

1/26/15

There is a girl in Poetry class who shaves off and redraws on her eyebrows. I have never understood this fad, but this girl draws her eyebrows on in an angry angle every day that I see her. She looks like she is constantly disgruntled and perplexed about everything around her. Her eyebrows have her in a constant state of “Da fuck she just say?” She has perpetual bitch face. Why would she do this? Does she even realize she has constant bitch face? Would she appreciate being informed on it? Perhaps she thinks she is making herself beautiful and wonders why people don’t ever want to approach her…….

1/28/15

Dude I snapped at in poetry class still sits next to me. Like nothing ever happened. But now there is a weird tension in the air. Not aggressive or awkward…more like…competitiveness. It’s hard to articulate. It is like we are both waiting on each other’s next move, to counter strike or retaliate, or something like that. Today I doodled Mass Effect themed drawings into my notebook. Later I noticed he drew a picture of a thumb and finger making a cave holding a flag with a woman in rags and holding a spear standing within. He drew it with Micron pen. I doodled with my regular writing pen. It was obvious his drawing was a reaction to my doodling. All I can think is “what the heck?”

2/1/15

On walk home from train station, I saw a woman standing at the bus stop. She wore a pink baggy t-shirt and capri-sweats and no shoes. It’s February. Winter. Cold. She looked like she just got out of bed, literally, from sleeping to being at the bus stop in one move. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest in the same way Mom does it when she is cold, in a slightly hunched kind of way. This is my neighborhood.

2/2/15

Today, Poetry Rival was very antsy and cursing very outwardly about whatever was happening on his laptop. He tapped his keyboard violently. Tempted to be sassy and remind him that keyboard buttons are breakable. I ignored him though, but felt almost scared for my life. After his episode, and about 5 minutes later, I notice he is watching a YouTube video about Mass Effect…I was also wearing my Mass Effect hoodie. Is this intentional? It is like he is trying to show me things about his personality without actually talking to me. Am I just being paranoid? Maybe he has a crush on me now. First girl ever to counter his impoliteness and now he is in love. Oldest tale in the manga. I’m probably just being silly though.

More tidbits this way –>

Lifey Tidbits #1

Everywhere I go, I bring this green book with blank pages along with me and lately I have been writing in it entirely random encounters and observations I experience when going about my day. Some of them are kind of interesting, and since my writing lately has really taken off in a practice kind of way, I think it would be interesting to share them, to encourage me to do it more.

10/29/14

A bearded old man wearing huge blue sunglasses plays an acoustic guitar in the auditorium park blocks. It’s raining. He wears a short-sleeved shirt. He dances in circles as he plays fast simple chords in a chaotic melody. Perhaps that’s why he is managing to stay warm in the rain. Or perhaps he simply enjoys the feel of the rain hitting him as he spins around. He is just an old man doin’ what he loves, and being happy about it: playing the guitar while spinning in circles. Three children in different colored jackets and different ethnicities dance near him, using their different colored (closed) umbrellas like a Broadway show. The scene makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

11/3/14

A young man gets on the number 10 bus on my way to school, at the Reed stop. He has very stylish, wavy black hair and a torn denim jacket and black torn skinny jeans with a chain  connected from the wallet in his pocket to a belt loop. I can’t hear it, but he talks very sincerely to the bus driver and then turns around sullenly and gets off the bus. As he walks up the street, he flips his middle finger up backwards without looking back. Seeing the poor ragamuffin makes me want to throw $3 out the window for him. The bus driver is the same one who drives me to school every time I leave at 10:30. Everyday he barely looks at me as I get on the bus, barely acknowledging that his passengers are people, zonking out as he shoves his bus along. Although, if the ragamuffin wanted fair treatment, he might not want to dress in a street-punk-probably-steals-lunch-money-from-first-graders kind of way. Ah, moral dilemmas…

12/1/14

As I walk to Japanese class, I notice a girl with frizzy auburn hair stop and bend down in the middle of the street. When she comes back up, I see she is holding a kneaded eraser. She kneads it in her hand for a few seconds, still standing in the middle of the road, then smiles and stuffs the thing in her pocket as she continues on her way….Portland…

1/12/15

Zoned out and watching life from my seat on the train, I notice a boy with an art portfolio that looks like mine hurry his way up to the parking lot of the Division platform. He reaches the long set of stairs from the platform to the parking lot. The stairs are divided in two by a railing. As the boy takes a few steps up the stairs, he suddenly stops and stares at the woman ahead of him. She is fat and staring down at her mobile device, taking each step as slowly as possible. The boy analyzes the situation, then turns back, bolts quickly down, and runs up the other side of the stairs, taking two at a time. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. I am a bad person sometimes…

1/20/15

In poetry class. I notice, across the classroom, a fresh-out-of-high-school African-American girl sitting among a group of three old, white hair and wrinkles, Caucasian men. I assume they are discussing the poetry readings. The old men nodding and responding in agreement with what the girl says, and her vice versa. The scene is particularly nice. It shouldn’t be, but it is. Perhaps I have subconscious beliefs that all white old men are racist and all young people hate listening/talking to old people?

Next bunch of tidbits here.