So strange.

I like to consider myself to be...confident. I have a high level of self esteem, and generally consider myself capable of anything I want, provided I can work up the urge to get my ass off of my couch and accomplish something. But bypassing my ego, and my narsicism, and beyond all the arrogance that I display to people around me, I'm realistic.

I know that there has to be limitations to my.. amazingness. I understand that despite what I might want, I'm merely human, and thusly a creature of flaws, despite the fact that I would hardly admit such to anyone's face.

I've begun to doubt myself. Not in a way that's an emo cry for help, or an internet scream for attention.. but in my memory. I've noticed that as I occupy my mind with lists of tasks I must complete, and the overwhelming inflow of knowledge that I am sucking from textbooks, my capability to remember things has gone by the wayside.

Now, that's not to suggest that I forget important things, like where I live, or how many hookers I have tied up in the basement, but more like things like: yesterday was my father's 60th birthday. Or that I should have made reservations for equipment for a presentation.

I find it interesting that things I would not normally 'misplace' on my priority list somehow seem to fall off while I'm not looking, simply because I have so much other crap to worry about.

Don't worry. After I woke up in a cold sweat, I called my Father and informed him that I am the worst daughter ever. <3

Time to breathe..

It's over. Well. For a week, or so. I have no more quizzes, tests, or huge assignments to worry about until the week after next. The disturbing thing, is knowing that I should use this time to catch up on my homework, now..But I can hardly bring up the energy to think straight.

I wanted to RP last night. I honestly, honestly did. But when I logged onto IRC, which used to be my most favorite place in the world, I could hardly muster up the energy to look at other peoples' text, let alone write something of my own.

But then again, I still had my head in the clouds.

I ended up going to bed at 9pm. If this keeps up, I'm going to seriously need to reconsider how I can be creative.

And now, a word from our sponsor:

Taking a break. Not that I can really afford it, mind you. The endless number of supply curves and rising and falling marginal utility numbers begs for my attention span, which honestly is nil.


I've been far too worked up, lately.

I'm hooked on energy drinks, again. Tea just doesn't do it for me when I have no time, and way too much cramming to do. I have a feeling I'm going to want to crash on Wednesday, and I am not even allowing myself that minimal pleasure.

No time for my old antics. I can't even remember how to RP anymore, let alone sum up the brainpower to do it. I've resorted to trolling 4chan for hentai lately to help feed my thirst for fucked up plotlines. Thankfully, 4chan always delivers. God bless the internets.

But, I guess that's what hard work's all about. Speaking of which; break's over. Back into this shit.

Dead as my body was, I was often fascinated by the twitch of my cock when I heard her hiss at me, like that. Struck dumb by how swiftly the line went dead, it took me a few moments to gather my thoughts enough to hang the hotel telephone back upon the hook.

Turning, I focused on the eyes upon me, as was expected after such an interruption. Annoyed by the stunned stare of the neonate apprentice as she gaped at the slowly growing tent within my robes, I lashed out.

"Snuff that candle before you set the whole goddamned room on fire."

I moved past her, stepping carefully over the intricate markings of salt that marked the floor where the carpet had been ripped free of the room. The summoning of Sponge Bob Squarepants would undoubtedly have to wait. The thought was sour upon my mind as I began to rummage within my suitcase for where I'd tucked my own cell phone. Taking it into hand, I dialed a number, and waited.

"Come on, Jezebel.. Pick up."

Quiet.. but only for so long. Sometimes, the rageful outbursts from my gun only gave way to the howling screams of a man who'd lost his testicles. Of course, that was always far more barable to endure than his mocking laughter.

I turned to look behind me, expecting to see his putrid face twisted with glee and mirth, but there was nothing. Just the sound of his voice. My teeth could shatter, for how hard I clenched them.

The night had started so well, too.

I forced myself to look at the ground as I began to walk... knowing in my mind where I should be headed, but making no conscious effort to move in any kind of direction. It was not that I was relying on a skill to find my way to where my answers were.. but I had faith that eventually I would stumble across something familiar.

The buzzing of my phone jiggled against my breast after a few moments, and as I passed by a coffee shop that was just flicking it's lights on to begin the day, I considered simply letting it ring. Even as my thumb slid against the slick, vitae stained plastic.

Alone? Not alone? What was the difference? Thoughts were little jolts of lightning between dead brain cells. But the blood that flowed down? Now that was something real. Something that needed to be addressed, and that right soon. Dragging my fingers along my tongue, I sucked up that errant liquid like it was anything else that would keep me alive. Skills long dead came into play as I held up and leaned back against a wall to collect myself.

The bloodstains on my phone didn't much register to me as I punched the numbers.

"Jezebel? What the hell. I was in the middle of a very complicated summoning."

Baring my teeth in a rage that came unbidden, I heard the phone start to creak with the force that my fingers exerted. Jabbing a fingertip at midair, my voice dropped to a hideous little hiss that I could hear overmodulating the microphone.

"Shut your mouth, boy. I just had my throat cut by something invisible. Make something of it before I forget why I keep you alive. Love you."

Shoving the phone disdainfully back into my bra along with the dirty cash, I wiped again at the slowly healing nicks on my neck and started back off down the street. There were places to get cleaned up and places to hide. Neither of these things much interested me, though. I wanted answers.

And goddamn it if I wouldn't shut Sam up with the business end of a .45 if he didn't quiet down.

Like a storm, my thoughts became jumbled. So clear and focused, only to be thrust again into such a panicked state of madness. These lucid states.. they never really last long.

The echo of my heels as they pounded into the wet ground beneith me served as a tempo to begin to calm my nerves. When I finally had mind to glance up and look around me, my surroundings had changed, and I could not recall where I was, anymore. Such a thing should have concerned me, perhaps.. but the slick, wet feel of black vitae as it dripped down my throat called for more acknowledgement.

I pressed my hand there, sopping up the sticky mess with my palm, lip curling into an awkward little smile as I considered what Jeriah might say if I told him what I'd experienced. Was I actually -alone- in my mind? Or was I falling down some strange road of maddness that only sucks in the most unfortunate of my kind?

Sam won't stop laughing, now..

Imagine my surprise when the image in the window started to move. We could have been sisters if not for the way that her hair fell around her face. Her hair never did that, no matter how hard we tried to force it around the hot iron. Always so damned mousy. But that image couldn't have been me. I wasn't moving like it was.

But it still seemed so damned real.

A chipped fingernail raised up, that apparition seeming to point to something beside her. As though to indicate where the door was or perhaps to indicate a thing that could not be see, she aimed that finger over to the side. My fingers dug into my palm as I stared at this window, oblivious to the muttered statements of the other people in the place. The slurping of coffee and the clinking of little pieces of flatware rubbing on plates had all but evaporated in the appearance of this thing.

Her finger hooked back along her own throat, dragging that nail across it and leaving a razor thin crimson mark behind it. She hadn't been pointing at anything. Just preparing to evacuate soul. My hand flew to my throat and unable to regard another moment, I fled into the night streets.

Anywhere but there.

Bits and Pieces. (A story..)

People hardly ever pause to consider where they're going with their lives. Moments pass us by as quickly and fleeting as thoughts.. one happening after another, with such insignifigance, that we hardly take moments to piece them together and make a full sentence out of a jumble of words.

That's the thought that went through my mind as my fingers smoothed the worn fabric of my skirt back down over my hips. The warmth I felt between my thighs, and the itch of crumpled bills tucked against my right breast was a sad reminder of what had gotten me to the place I was now.. like a bitter example of my previous thought. I'd be a liar if I didn't say I smiled a bit in self mockery.

When I turned to grab my purse from where I'd dropped it to the ground, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a dirty window. I thought about pausing to inspect the ragged display of my image, but instead, I found myself squinting and leaning forwards to look past the illusion of a mirror that bright lights could give off.

(To Be Continued...)

Just like that, weirdness happens..

The strangest thing happened to me, today. I was on the bus, minding my own business and gaping openly at Justin's Doppelganger as I seem to be running into him quite often, these days. I felt something buzz on my lap, and thinking it was my cellphone telling me something, I reached into my pocket.

Nothing. No messages. No voicemails. No missed calls.

Back to gaping.

And then I feel something buzz, again. Intrigued, and realizing that this pleasing sensation was actually coming from my purse, I reach into the pocket that I sometimes stash my phone, only to find this weird alien cellphone sitting there.

Now, I drunkenly lost my phone at a friend's house over the weekend, so I think: no problem. I'll just call Alisha and see if anyone is missing their phone.

Turns out, Nope.

So.. now I'm really confused. Time goes by.. and I feel this alien phone buzzing again. Oh! A call! So I answer it.

An odd little conversation occurs, in which a man sounds rather confused as to why a woman is talking to him. I can only imagine this is because well.. this isn't my phone. After about five minutes of explaining, I finally let this man know that no, I am not 'Marty', and no.. I have no idea where this telephone has come from.

He kindly informs me that he'll let Marty know who has his phone. At this point, I play the waiting game, again.

And another call comes in. I answer, only to find that I am now speaking to the actual owner of this phone. This is a good sign. I politely ask him if he was at Alisha's party over the weekend. Nope.

"I live in Cloverdale..." he explains.

That's funny. I haven't been anywhere near that area in some time.

"Well, were you at the Celtic Times on Saturday?" I ask eagerly.

"No, I was at a football game..."

Huh. Now it is starting to get weird. How the fuck did I get this phone!?

The conversation goes on.. each of us absolutely bemused as to how I ended up with his phone in the first place. Finally, I agree to meet him at a gas station across the street from campus on my lunch break so that I can return his ill-begotten cellphone.

I bring a small army of friends with me. I'm not a dumb girl. I know that sometimes people do strange things in the hopes of luring pretty young women into their grasp, so I had backup. When the man rolls up in his truck, I'm hoping to recognize him. To get some sort of inkling as to -how- I ended up with his telephone in my purse.

I've never seen this person before in my -life-.

It was a rather anticlimactic exchange, to be honest. I handed him the phone, he asked me if I knew a man named 'Darrel', which I do, but it wasn't the Darrel he was asking about.. and then he drove off.

Didn't even say thank-you.

At the end of all of this.. I keep thinking to myself, that I am probably going to go to my grave..never knowing how the hell I got ahold of that damned phone.