Kissowa Insider

I survived Christmas. I mean, barely, but I did. Christmas is one giant overdose of people. Being more or less forced to socialize for days. Not that I don’t want to persay, I love my family get-togethers. But it’s just… overdose. So I have spent the majority of today hiding under the covers.

But before I was allowed to hide under the covers, my mum took me shopping. She bought me a suit. Yes, a suit. Over-priced but oh-so-fucking-fab suit. Considering my old suit is 6 sizes to large and from 1999, it was a welcome gift, mind you. So I’m standing there in the dressing room, mind-pairing my suit with a glittery top, a pair of high-heeled pumps and a cute clutch. (Not that I can afford buying any of those, but you know, dreaming is allowed.) So New Years, so stylish.

Then I went to the liqour-store and picked up my alcohol for New Years. I’m ahead, I’m ready. I have a fancy outfit and stuff to drink. But nowhere to go. I haven’t gotten ONE single invite to anywhere. Not one. I am now the posterchild for the phrase “all dressed up but nowhere to go”.

(And now I expect everyone to invite me to their oh-so-fantastic parties. Not because they read my blog and  pity me, not because I’m excellent at the guilttrip, but because the forgot to invite me. Mhm, you forgooooot to invite me. Right? Right.)

Rant, Whine

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Wrath of the Lich King is here. I am basically playing 15 hours a day and have been since Wednesday. I started myself a Death Knight, the new heroclass. The starting levels are quite fantastic, there is actually lore weaved into the gameplay, in a way I haven’t seen before. The scenery also changes with what quests you have done, so each player see’s something diffrent from the other. The class itself is a smooth class to play. It is what I have always wanted to be. A magetank. People laughed at me when I said I would be one when I grew up. Now I am. HAH!

In other news I seems to have genetic code that’s gone horribly wrong, because I seem to make a complete fool out of myself every chance I get. Most oftenly it’s alcohol involved, but last time it was all on my own doing. No foolenhancing drugs at all. I was out and about with a friend of mine and her colleauges. Mind you, this is people who all work at the bar I frequently go to. The order is usually; Me - Drunk, Them - Sober. Not today. Most of them we’re happily celebrating their colleauges birthday. I was sober, partly because I’m not very rich right now and partly because I really didn’t want to make an ass of myself with these people. *sighs* Anyway, the place we went to had this weird knobthing on the bathroomdoors. I locked it, I thought, but obviously not. No, the chief of the aformentioned bar opened the door just as I was putting my pants back on and I just wanted to die right then and there. Awkward moment? Hell yes. For other people this might not be such a big deal, but for me, with GAD, it’s source of weeks of anxiety. In my mind I will forever be “the girl who doesn’t lock the bathroom door”. Shoot me.

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I could swear my brain is melting. Lately I’ve been saying and doing so much stupid shit I’m amazed by myself. It seems my brain isn’t comprehending… well anything, really. Easy questions get dumbass answers. I don’t remember my own emailadress, (yes that happened to me today!) I’ve forgotten to pick up stuff at my friends house not once, not twice but fucking four times. Someone asks me to click on 10 (the numbers) and i search for ten (the word) and go “I don’t see no ten, whaddaymean?”. God! Shoot me already.

But, hopefully this will change now when I get some actual creativity in my life. I’m most likely going to start to DJ again next week. Which is YAY! I haven’t streamed radio since I moved back home and really miss it. I just couldn’t really sit up at 4 am and talk on the air when I have nagging parents who can’t sleep. Now I got the opportunity to do that at 8 pm instead, which is a more reasonable hour. Easier to combine with school aswell. It will be metal/rock as per usual and those of you who have catched a set know I’m not the selfcensoring type. Lots of fun to be had. Now, if my brain wasn’t melting as we speak I could’ve popped in a little player on the site so you could listen in… Not gonna happen. Catch me on msn for the time and url.

Rant

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When it is time to portray yourself infront of another you have a few choices. Be true, honest and brutal. Truth with modification. Or complete and utter bullshit. We think we know what the other person wants to hear. You probably want the other person to only know the good things about you. The truth with modification or bullshit even. ‘How are you?’ is answered with a ‘Fine, thank you.’ or at most ‘Tired, but doing good.’ It could be that your inside is breaking piece by piece and you don’t know why, but that’s not something you say. Because that’s not what people want to hear. You could just go with ‘My life is fucking awesome and I love every minute of it.’ But even if that were true, that’s not what people want to hear either. It’s too much. Noone is that happy and if they are, they should be shot, those lucky fucking bastards.

When writing a presentation about yourself in a online community your goal is to represent yourself in a short text. People don’t want to read about your suicidal thoughts and they certainly don’t want to know that you make three million dollars a year, you ass. To present yourself in the best way possible you have to reflect both sides. Why do we do this? We are all aware that the text we read about this person is probably only a small fragment of the truth, if anything. Everyone has issues, that’s the bottom line. I’d like to be brutally honest. I think I am in some aspects and I often get complimented on that. The truth is, I’m not even half as honest as I could and maybe should be.

Who will like me if I let out all my neurotic, anxiety filled, overanalyzing bullshit? There is most likely someone, the odds are pretty good that atleast one person on this earth will like me. But here’s a question for you. How will you know? Social code today tells us that we have to be restrictive with these emotions. We can’t be to pushy. If we like someone, we can’t tell them outright until it is appropriate. And when it’s appropriate, noone really seems to know. So we walk around on shattered glass, afraid to break the code. My feet are tired and scarred, I just want to say that I like you.

But it goes the other way aswell. People can’t actually say when they don’t like someone. Don’t you get that feeling sometimes, that someone you spend time with doesn’t actually want to spend time with you? Why don’t they say that? The truth hurts, that is true. It’s not a nice thing to say and people generally want to be perceived as nice. Why we want to be percieved as nice infront of someone we don’t actually like is beyond me. If you think about it, so much time is wasted in the company of someone you don’t like or someone who doesn’t like you. Time is money, but the reputation of being nice is obviously priceless.

Rant, Whine

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I don’t know if I told you about this guy before, goldfishmemory and all. But he’s so good he can easily be mentioned a couple times. Ronald Jenkees. Go to youtube and watch him create music. You can see that he really loves what he does, he’s having so much fun with it and it sounds great. I bought his album on iTunes, which should be a good indicator on how much I like him, I haven’t bought an album in years. This is my favourite tune, not out on CD yet though. (Come on RJ, we’re waiting!)

Oh how I miss the music. I haven’t actually physically produced music in years! No piano, no guitar, no nothing. I’ve performed at a wedding, singing, and wrote like 3 songs or so, but shite, I need to create. My body is screaming for it! I wasn’t very good at guitar, I could hold my own on piano… But if I had stuck with it. GAH. My stupid ass sold all instruments a few years back, so I can’t exactly jump back on it. Must. Get. A. Job.

Creative, Rant

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Nay; The Eye with Jessica Alba. I mean, the girl is a looker, I figured if nothing else I can watch her, doesn’t really matter if the movie is good or not. Guess what? It matters. This movie sucks donkeyballs. Suppose to be horror/thriller… Yeah, anyone who’s known me longer than week know I am extremly jumpy. I get scared by everything. This didn’t do it for me AT ALL. That should give a hint on how catastrophic it is. And yeah, Jessica Alba is usually fucking hot. This movie? Not so much.

Yay; Pantera - Floods. Or more specifically the guitar. If you can play like this, you’ll have me melting within seconds. If you don’t know what I’m on about you can listen to the full song here and over here you can see Dimebag do the solo live. The outro really gets me in this, the combo of rain and guitar is just… SO SEXY!

Excuse me while I go make sweet love to myself.

Rant

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I don’t even know where to start. I should get rid of the fucking hat, it’s making me more confident than I can handle. Went to my regular place last night. Was suppose to be a girls night out with two very lovely ladies. Now, these two ladies, they have that thing. You know, that thing that makes men flock around them? They are IT-girls. Which is quite entertaining, just watching men trying to approach them is big humor.

Apparently my hat is my it. But Im not used to being a IT-girl, so I do things i regret the day after. I had a pact with a friend of mine, we were both suppose to leave our number to atleast 2 people we found interesting. After last weekends epic failure, I needed to do something drastic. And yes, I did. I gave my number to they guy I tried to give my number to last time. I am blushing as I write this.

So, let’s look at the diffrent scenarios.

*He got my number last time and purposly dissed me. Which means he now thinks I’m a mofo who can’t take a hint.
*He didn’t get my number last time, he got it now, he’s dissing me.
*He’s a stupid fucking retard who doesn’t understand what to do with a number.
*I’m bad at waiting, so I get all wound up for nothing, he might call.

I’m so stupid, I won’t be able to go there again without having to sink through the earth and die on the spot. Anyway, 1 number wasn’t enough, I had a pact, remember? So, I gave my number to a dude I had met before, not overly exiting person, but nice enough. I had promised to give him my number next time I met him anyway, so what the hell. About 20 minutes after this happens, one of my girlfriends is sitting in his lap and making out with him. How did that happen? Her IT is stronger than mine, no doubt.

I light of those events, I felt that I had to try again, the last guy was sort of… discarded as interesting if you catch my drift. So I did. A guy I had met last week. Nice looking, good talker and oh yes, the homoerotic kiss he had with a guyfriend last time I saw him. It just does it for me, you know? I’m not sure how that one will pan out just yet… *sighs* Picking up guys is a nightmare. Shoot me, throw away my hat and put me back up on my piedestal. Let them come to me! (And someone please sprinkle some memorydust over guy number 1.)

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… and a pair of leather pants.

When going through old boxes of stuff long forgotten, I found a pair of leather pants. Propbably forgotten somewhere around 85kg (or 9th grade) when I couldn’t wear them anymore. Well guess what, I can wear them now! I mean, it was a close call, a few milimeters more in waist and I would’ve cracked those puppies. Anyway, I got superexited because I absolutly love leatherpants. It’s one of those things that just screams sex. So, fuck, Imma dress up and go out. And that’s what I did.

If I was better at taking pictures you’d see a outfit pic here, but I’m a lazy ass mofo, so screw you. I was wearing stilletoheeled boots, leatherpants, black shirt with a spagetthistrapped top under, a really fluffy scarf and a fedora hat. Meaning, I was fully covered, from head to toe. No skin nowhere, and hardly even a face showing under that hat and scarf.

Guess what? I have never ever in my life gotten so many compliments in one evening. Total strangers, men and women, came up to me and complimented my outfit for the evening. I had quite literally half a dussin people I could’ve gone home with last night. And I’m not even kidding.

I felt my confidence go through the roof, I was on fire. As we all know, confidence is a good thing, in apropriate dosage that is. All the attention probably went to my head, because apparently I felt I had to leave my number to the one guy in the whole place probably least inclined to use it. I don’t even know if he got the piece of paper either, so in addition to “Omfg, why did I do that?”-anxiety, I also have the “Is he dissing me or did he not even get it?”-anxiety.

Why is it always like this with me? I get to a decently nice level of confidence and I somehow always manage to knock myself down a few pegs. And yeah I know what yer thinking, It’s one of those luxuryproblems yet again. Fuck you, it’s my luxuryproblem, hence important.

In the end it’s my extreme fear of rejection going off on me, every single time. I actually get embaressed if I get rejected. Like tomatored-I-wanna-sink-into-the-ground-and-die-embaressed. Which is utterly stupid, because there is always plenty of more fish in the sea and as the cliché goes, it’s his fucking loss and yadiyadibladi. But I don’t do well with the word No. Rejection-challanged is me.

Rant

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