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Somedays I wake up with this terrible feeling that there is an endless stream of opportunities, variations, complicated timings and effects. Its times like this I wonder with an aching pit in my stomach were my resolve should be, what I'm settling for. What the hell am i trying for?

The post before the flood

I need to learn to stay away from my computer during depressive streaks, but the problem is that the seductive powers of internet almost-human contact become irresistible. Next thing I know my status updates on facebook say things like, "Elizabeth Cook 'is lost'." which when translated is roughly "Elizabeth Cook 'is desperately afraid of the ten or twenty minutes before falling asleep and is placating her desire for human contact by posting ambiguous, lame posts on facebook at one o'clock in the morning'." Does anyone else have this problem? (besides every thirteen and fourteen year old girl in America.) In other news, I may have swineflu.

peace out.

-Lizz

I hate how liquid she is

I hate how liquid she is
splashing from room to room
seeping under the doors and
through the cracks
showing up where you least expect her
smiling, bubbling,
staining the wallpaper.
With a crash
she throws herself down the stairs
like water over the Green Lane Dam;
crackling, and loud.

The Truth About It Is...

Playing music loudly in my room and frustrated that "Stumble" on Firefox continues to redirect me from Counterculture, I stumble across a page on Fibromyalgia Management.

http://www.everydayhealth.com/fibromyalgia/fibromyalgia-coping-physically.aspx?xid=SU_

The truth about it is, I'm not disabled...These people are talking about coping with re-entering the workforce, and avoiding household tasks like washing dishes to prevent "Flare-ups". I'm twenty years old, barely beginning to figure out what kind of adventures I can get away with during adult life; some of my favorite things are dancing, gardening, taking long walks and generally getting my heart rate up any way possible. So what am I? Crazy. Not the most social person in the world. Weaker than average.A college student with an anxiety disorder.A terrible friend. A masochist. Just bitter.A little emo. The worlds most predictable cop-out.Under the weather.An eighty year-old woman with the height of a supermodel-Anything I can belive that doesn't summon images of late childhood and early adolescence; that crushing weight of passive doctors and nurses, weekly blood drawings, pick lines, pills and that pressing face of a caring, controlling and out of control mother. Peers with pink faces drawing a chalk line between themselves and my sorry skinny hide, tottering on the edge of understanding my own mortality. I have a handicap parking sticker, but I don't cut myself the slack of believing I'm...

It's frustrating. When people know, when people don't. There are days when I look at you people,through a fog, convinced that you have no idea what pain means or what I would give to have a body that followed the basic set of rules everyone else seems to enjoy. Of course, this isn't true-we all seem to have our own share of trauma.

Middle Rant

Five Minute Depression fighters.

Play 'Clint Eastwood' by the Gorilaz.

Stop at Barnes N Noble or similar bookstore. Inhale.

Buy a different shade of near-black nail polish.

Rent two movies; a guilty pleasure and something you need to see

Turn off your cell phone and enjoy five minutes of being unreachable and out without anyone's permission. (Less than ten years ago this was a dream, after all.)

Listen to music or read in your car when it's raining.***works particularly well with moon roofs.

Go to Mr.Lee's and pick up a pint of won-ton soup.


Paint your lips red, fluff out your bedraggled hair and impose yourself on humanity in whatever form first presents itself.

Read enough Thoreau to nurse a brief period of self-righteous solitude driven artwork.

Embrace your right to have an off day, moment or year. The best part of being human is smiling when you mean it.

Stumble. (or is this a symptom...)

*phone rings*

Saturday June 7th

Midnight Rocky Horror

I was feeling a little peculiar-Had it in my head to drive up to Macungie to visit my old high school (a mere hour away) at 11:00, but luckily saw people hanging outside the grand theater in Pennsburg wearing sequenced bustiers and stopped-Despite being in the mood to watch a classic by myself, surrounded by jolly weird strangers I still felt a little out of place. It was as scripted as catholic mass, but with Slut and Asshole replacing "Jesus" and "Thy"... I'm all for shouting obscenities in a dark theater, but apparently I'm snobby in my tolerance of magic the gathering chicks with flip books of prompts and choruses of "shits for brains" drowning out meatloaf's lyrics. *le' sigh* That being said, it was exactly what i needed.

Friday June 12th

Cats hate homework.

Snapped while working through Binomials with Mrs.Tims mom Friday afternoon- It felt really good to visit...