I really hate the Sims 2

The Sims 2 is the worst game ever, let me tell you why;

I spent hours upon hours as a kid, sitting and watching other people play that stupid game.

Hours. Watching someone else play a game. Fun times.

I could never play it myself because I never had a computer that could handle it.

Well, guess what? Neither did they!

So, they sat there, waiting patiently, sometimes up to an hour, watching that annoying load screen, with the really irritating music, knowing exactly what they would do as soon as it finally loaded. They would go on to create an impossibly skinny adult version of themselves, just themselves, never me because it took too long to load, use the cheats to make impossible amounts of money and build a giant mansion. They would then go on to live their virtual dream lives, get their virtual dream jobs, virtual dream friends and boyfriends, have awesome virtual parties, and then kill themselves in the swimming pool.

For some reason they seemed to think this was better than actual socializing, because I sat there the whole time and they barely said a word to me. Sitting in the comfortable computer chair while I had a little stool that was way too low for the computer desk and really hurt my ass.

I've always wondered why they asked me to come over and hang out if all they wanted to do was have a pretend life with me sitting there half asleep.

I swear, every time I hear that god damn Sims music, I want to hurt someone.

Meira eineltisbla.

Halló Austurbæjarskóli, heimili brostinna vona.

Ég verð svo reið þegar ég hugsa aftur til grunnskólaára minna. Þessi 10 ár, sem áttu að móta mig, gerðu mig á endanum að engu.
Það var traðkað yfir mig, mér var gert að líða eins og ég væri holdsveik, útskúfuð, ekkert!

Ég hef aldrei fengið að vita af hverju þið hötuðuð mig svona mikið, hvað gerði ég ykkur annað en að hafa önnur áhugamál en þið? Ég var strákastelpa, ég var Grunge-krakki í rifnum gallabuxum, ég hafði engan áhuga á að ganga í bleiku og glimmeri og tína blóm.
Var það allt og sumt?

Og þegar við urðum eldri, og fólk fór að átta sig á því hvað væri í gangi, hvernig gátuð þið sitið þarna og drullað yfir mig, hvernig gátuð þið verið svona ill?

Það voru tveir, TVEIR kennarar í öllum skólanum, sem spurðu mig hvað væri að, TVEIR, af öllum þeim sem kenndu mér eða komu nálægt mínum málum. Tveir, og það geislaði af mér hvað ég væri langt niðri, mætti í skólann og í staðinn fyrir að læra sat ég úti í horni og skar mig, mætti með öryggisnælur fastar í random líkamspörtum.
En, þið voruð of upptekin við að troða pappír inn á brjóstahaldarana ykkar og hlæja að skrýtnu stelpunni.

Ég hef alltaf verið þakklát ákveðnum hóp úr bekknum mínum, sem tók aldrei þátt, talaði við mig sem jafningja en ekki eitthvað fatlafól, sem tók mér fyrir mig og dæmdi ekki hvað ég væri "skrýtin," það voru aðallega hinir bekkirnir sem köstuðu grjóti í hausinn á mér á leiðinni heim úr skólanum, hlógu ef ég missteig mig í íþróttum og gat ekki staðið upp og öskruðu á mig á göngunum að ég væri "krakkhóra," kaldhæðnislegt þar sem ég hef hitt mörg þeirra niðri í bæ um helgar, þau útúrfokkingdópuð og subbuleg og muna ekki eftir mér.
Gamanaðessu!

Ég er brotin og ég er skemmd eftir þessi 10 ár, en ég nenni því ekki lengur, mig langaði bara að losna við þetta úr hausnum á mér og býst ekki við svörum.
Ég efast um að ég fái að vita hvað í andskotanum ég gerði þeim, og eins forvitnilegt og það væri að vita það þá er mér skítsama af því ég ætla að sleppa takinu á orðum sem einhverjir ónytjungar hreyttu í mig fyrir 10+ árum síðan, ég er búin að leyfa því að draga mig niður einum of lengi, ég ætla að púsla sjálfri mér saman og halda áfram.

Þessir hálfvitar sem gerðu mér lífið leitt mega eiga sig, ég vona bara að karma læðist upp að þeim á endanum því ég hef ekki orkuna í að hata þau lengur.

“Those who are free of resentful thoughts surely find peace.” - Buddha

Semantics

I really hate the term "manorexia."
I was watching Silverchair videos on YouTube and a link to an interview with a former male model suffering from anorexia came up. I clicked it and the description said "...also known as Manorexia."
No, it is not! Anorexia is anorexia, doesn't matter if it affects a man or a woman.
It's not like it's a chick disease, I remember reading somewhere that one of the first people ever diagnosed with it was a man, but I can't find the article now so maybe take it with a grain of salt.
When a man has chest pains, we don't call it Mangina.
I don't know... It just really pisses me off because I think it belittles a very serious disorder, and that it could(and probably does) result in men not getting the treatment they need.

--

Also, I hate that when you google the word fat, pictures of fat people come up instead of pictures of, literally, fat. As in the yellow goop that clogs our arteries.
And then, on the first page, this

I freaking hate society. I hate the fact that I feel guilty every time I eat something that isn't celery.
I hate that even at my thinnest, heart palpitations, anemia and all that fun stuff, I was still considered "plus size"

I hate that, since I was a kid, I've been dieting because I was made to feel guilty about having tits and thighs, that today I freak out when my thighs touch.
That not wearing a size extra small feels like the worst thing in the world.

I hate that I'm made to feel ashamed for looking like a woman. And that I give into it by dieting obsessively and feeling ugly when I gain half a gram.

I hate "thinspiration," I hate diet-this and diet-that, low calorie, low carb bullshit.
I hate stick thin people advertising junk food.
I hate special K and diet pills and Tyra Banks and hydroxycut and Atkins and heroin chic!

I wish society made it easier to feel comfortable in your skin. It breaks my heart to see beautiful, intelligent people being eaten alive by their own bodies because of the pressure to fit into a mold.

I know this hasn't been the most articulate blog post but I'm in a pissy mood and I can't sleep, also I've been feeling fat all Christmas and I'm sick of it.
So there.

Go suck a bag of farts, Kate Moss

larva

My whole life has been a very surreal experience.

I've always relied on my imagination to get me through the day, especially when times were tough.

I made up stories in my head, back stories for the people who constantly put me down, in which they either died slow and painful deaths or I found out why the hell they were so cruel.

I made up whole other characters in my head, who could I be tomorrow? Today I will be someone who can handle the pain, they will go to school and stand up for me.

It got to a point where I completely lost myself, I changed masks too frequently and I'm still not sure who I am.

Some days I look in the mirror and I don't even look like me anymore. I do, I look the same as I always did, but what I see doesn't match how I feel.

Internets

Yesterday some wrinkled, old, (or living-in-a-world-without-sunscreen) bitch called me a naive plebeian for believing that animals deserve the same respect as humans.
That is all.
No justification, just "Your argument is naive."

I don't know why but it's been ringing in my head all day. Her leathery face haunts me, I can just see her, giggling to herself, patting herself on the back for her oh so clever response.
Everyone else could see how poor it was, but she seemed so sure of it.

Maybe it's just the fact that I couldn't get her to even think about where I was coming from, it is still completely absurd to her that someone DARE compare a human life to a worthless pet. Something that, to me, is such a given.
Why should I matter more than my cats?
What have I ever done for society?

I like to argue on the internet, especially with people whose grammar and spelling is poor. It doesn't give me a head ache, at all.
I love ridiculous comebacks

I like that when I stand up for what I believe in, I get shot down as naive, especially when I plead my case articulately and that's all they have to say back.
/sarcasm

I seriously wrote an essay on why I believe what I believe, and why a human life is not more important than a "simple" house cats, which I can't be arsed to translate into English, and they wrote me off like that.
And... Plebe? Seriously?
Diss.

I have strong opinions, sometimes they aren't the most popular but I don't give a shit, they're my beliefs and if you try to convince me otherwise I will pick a fight.
I will be happy to tell you why you are wrong and I am right.
And if you belittle my point of view and don't have any reasoning, just turn to personal attacks, I will give you the same respect.
I'll just be wittier.

A little venting

I feel a bit weak and vulnerable right now, and my mind's racing, I feel the need to sort some of these thoughts out so I thought, why not just do a blog instead of writing in a journal I'm going to put in a box and forget about?

My problem has always been the masks I put up. I've been in therapy for years and never really made any real progress because I carry myself too well, I hide the fact that I'm broken down and pretend everything's better than it really is. I have insane mood swings, and I never seem to have therapy sessions during low points, it's always when I'm doing well, then when I'm sad I cover it up with silliness and laughter.

I act like a total clown all the time, especially when I'm sad. I hardly ever tell anyone or let it show, I've only cried in front of a handful of people, ever. If you've ever seen me cry consider yourself special because it means I must really trust you!

The only emotion I have a constructive way of dealing with is anger. I write, I sing, I draw the people I'm mad at, I've done this since I was a kid, I had a whole notebook of drawings of how I was planning on killing one of my teachers! Not really that productive but at least it's a way of venting, one that I don't have for sadness.
I'm actually quite good at drawing caricatures of people I hate though...

I just don't like the idea of people seeing me weak, and I hate the idea that I'm depressed for no reason.
I hate feeling like I'm whining and dragging everyone down around me.

What bothers me the most is not knowing WHY. Why am I sad? Why do I feel so disgusted with myself sometimes?
Even when everything is going great, I have an amazing boyfriend, the best friends in the world, incredibly supportive parents who would do anything for me, I have no reason to feel depressed but I just do, like an ungrateful little brat.
That's why I don't like to talk about it, especially when people try to drag it out of me,
"WHY ARE YOU SAD?"
I honestly don't now!

And I have to be in a really special mood to really think about it or talk about it, like right now, yesterday I was really down but I couldn't put it into words, I just shouted at people randomly and had outbursts of annoyance, now there's nothing distracting me so I have time to really dig into my emotions and sort through them.
I have an easier time writing things down than talking to someone, so I guess I'm killing two birds with one stone.

This way, I can edit myself too, and not make too much of an ass of myself!

But I think this is enough sharing for today, I think this mood calls for really soft pajamas and a movie?

Playground Love(not!)

Recently a lot of attention has been brought to the issue of bullying, and as a victim of it, I thought I'd throw in my two cents.

First of all, I am seriously disappointed and angry at society and the media for not making this a bigger issue before, they have talked about it but never this much and it saddens me that it's taken this long. It's something that's been around for so long, and I'm disgusted at how many CHILDREN have taken their own lives as a direct result of this bullshit before people actually decide to talk about how bad it is and take action!

It seems like such a long time since I was 8 years old and felt almost completely alone in the world because everyone, even certain teachers at my school treated me like garbage. I would have thought that in all that time the world would have changed for the better, but no, it's taken a turn for the worst.
An eight year old should never be thinking the world would be better off without them, ever!
At the time, there was all this talk about programs and projects that were supposed to eliminate bullying, and when people spoke about it everyone nodded and agreed that "bullying is bad! Lets treat everyone nicely!"
Yet, the same people constantly treated me like a leper.

I'm not trying to victimize myself here, just pointing out the hypocrisy and ridiculous behavior. I can understand it from kids because kids are idiots and don't always know any better-but adults? Grown ups, GROWN-ASS imbeciles who my parents trusted to educate me and get me ready for adulthood!

Instead, I have spent the majority of my adult life on welfare. I've tried a whole crap load of things to try to get me into a mental state where I'm actually capable of holding a proper job, the longest I've lasted is 4 months(probably shouldn't have said that in case possible future employers find this but whatever). I'm a nervous wreck most of the time which sucks because I know I'm a talented person with a lot of potential which is going to waste because I let some bastards convince me I was worth nothing.

Don't get me wrong, I have come a looong way from the 13 year old with cut up arms and mascara stained cheeks, it has taken so much time and energy but I've learned that I am worth something, I know I don't have to care what other people think!

It's just that, at 23, I still have that eight year old me in the back of my head, that sad, little girl who just wanted approval, questioning everything I do.
The aftershock of bullying.

It pisses me off that so many years have gone by and the situation hasn't changed, there are so many little girls and boys going through what I did. The teacher who did this to me is still teaching impressionable children, some of who will grow up to be like me, others like the bullies, and the rest, the kids she actually liked enough to give positive re-enforcement, will become respectable members of society!

I just hope, for the kids sake, that the media attention will open parents eyes, they'll watch out for signs that something is wrong before their children do something to harm themselves, because it is preventable!

And I wish society would stop being a pretentious asshole, I wish there was less talking and more action.
In an ideal world there would be laws against bullying, just like any other form of violence.

Now, before I start sounding all Miss America or overly whiny over here, I'm going to stop ranting.
Toodles!

VanHoppum