Monday, October 17, 2005


There is nothing worse than a hater.
I mean, full time, I wish I could be you so I've got an attitude, pure, unadulterated raw seething hate. It amazes me how important you are to other people. There are, in my humble opinion, two types of people in the world: the type who do and the type who don't. The type who do are under a barrage of spiteful fire from the types that don't. Without the people that do, the people that don't would have no purpose, no existence.
It's sickening to me that people feel the need to tear you down because you are what they desperately wish to be. It's an ugly thing, hate, but no matter where you are, you can't escape it. And I find that pathetic. You wasted your life and your time and since you see me doing big things that you wish you could do, you're going to take that out on me? Please. I really shouldn't be this pissed, but I felt the need to vent this morning. It was an itch that needed to be scratched. An issue that needed to be addressed. And it seems to me this type of hate comes solely from other females.
I have guy friends that will support me if I decided to get a tribal tattoo on my face like my name was Mike Tyson. They'd smile and say, hey, do you. That's what I love about guys. They're cool and laid back and if I could be one....Anyway, I have never met a female I could get along with (okay, that's a lie, I actually have three very good girlfriends, and that's it) for an extended period of time. Females will constantly try to tear you down for their own personal gain. To make themselves feel good. It's annoying as hell, really and tends to get quite old quite fast. But I deal with it. Cuz that's the way the world is.
What I will not deal with is you treating me like I did something to you, holding some junior high school grudge against me because I have the ends and the means to move forward while you're still stuck in the past. You will never be me or have what I have and that's just the way it is. If you feel you need to speak to me personally, do so and don't make it a public thing. Make it a "hey, can we talk?" thing. I have no problem being an adult. Since apparently you do.

Ah, that felt good.

My 18th birthday passed last week rather uneventfully, I might add. FYI: Cupcakes are the new thing. I forgot how much I loved cupcakes until the other day. All that frosting, and just that tiny individual cake. I'm trying to diet here, keep my figure tick tock like it should be, but I had to give in. Those things are sinfully delicious. Not the chocolate (I hate chocolate, I don't say that out loud at parties) but the angel food cake ones with the different colored frosting and the sprinkles. Don't front. You know what I'm talking about. I enjoyed myself, I did. I was on my feet all day, in four inch heels, and I'm paying for it. I need a good hour long footrub and a tall glass of something that ends in "proof". (Speaking of, am I the only person disappointed by Sam Adams? The way they advertised it was like it was the new God of beers. I could have saved $4.25 for a beef patty and some ginger beer.)

I finished editing this week. I need to call up my publisher so we can get this thing rolling. I was supposed to hear from him a few days ago, but I know the phone works both ways. I have to get on that this afternoon...


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Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take and may this song play all the way, through. And if it skip a beat, hit repeat, this the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. If it skip a beat, hit repeat, This the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. -Juelz Sanatana, This Is Me, What The Game's Been Missing