Visual Rambings

[Confubbled..]

it's so prettiful!!i love the colours!

[Betsybug0]

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[Confubbled..]

very cool!

[Betsybug0]

There is a new one up if you are interested...
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[Betsybug0]

Meh, I decided I'm going to keep track of some of my essays, etc. here. Comments & critiques welcome.




What is the American Dream? Must we all be suffocated, withering away in expectations of us like a rotting apple? Our parents, teachers, society, the churches… all have their specific roles meticulously planned out for us, like a totalitarian dictator without the moustache & salute. Their goals are to keep us in line, if you slip up too bad you might end up in a mental institution or prison, swept away by plan “B” – a plan designed to make us appear normal. THEY know what is best for you, do NOT question the system. Don’t you want to be normal and respectable?

What is normal? Is it living the “perfect” life? First, you get decent grades in high school, go off to a respectable college, date, marry and eventually have children, have a respectable job and home, keep your children clothed and fed and ultimately, die in a nice old-folks home where you have been driven insane by the incessant ticking of the clock or hum of the machines. You keep up a nice appearance, showing up at parties, returning phone calls and library books… while you wonder if the person you are with is “the one”, crying yourself to sleep at night and masturbating too much. If you get pregnant while in high school or somehow end up incarcerated along the way, you might escape… but for the rest of us, there is not a lot to look foreword too.

2 + 2 = 5

[Betsybug0]

He is a cloudy mourning,

Excitement, yellow boots, and

thin wrists.

You’re not your male influence,

Rather settling hearts

and orange spots.


You are an anytime lover,

Push me not,
excite me….
more.

He is a soft speaker,

Mumbling is certainly intelligence.

He is a full
Mouthed
Kisser….

Surrender to me?

[Betsybug0]

The way that your nose ignored the familiar stench of just-applied sunscreen, moved toward the smell of incense, and eventually to the indescribable aroma of the sea. The silly naked children, with their action figures and salt-water filled diapers. The vague, lingering cloud filled with the uncertainty of school, death and roosters. Tangled legs in the early hours of the morning, no cares in regards to being caught by parents, the way your naked chest rises and falls (probably glittered with freckles) – if their was a God I believe he made you perfect and filled with flaws. The innocent and sinful way Elton sings deep into me, and so superficially, the way your recently cut hair brings me to my knees. The awakening smells, ways I make fun of my obsession with 60’s music. The deep novel about Vietnam, the occupation of Hawaii, the communists. The overweight people on the beach grotesquely ask me to stare. The sunlight dancing over the leaves, making semi-permanent tattoos on the immaculately cared for grass. The squish of my breasts against the boogie board. The prawns, the little crabs dancing in their holes late at night – they are vampires. Dreams of glass… beach glass. The way you fit, just so. Just so. Ironically. My grades. The perfect A’s and B’s filled with hatred, carrying the superficial tightening of my chest, the numbness of my arms. The huge dancing common butterfly. It is so enigmatic, like the way you stared endlessly out towards the vast ocean, the demeanor of your smallness compared to the sea, the dancing bobbing turtles. The way your arm lingered lifelessly, jumping, loosely holding me. All together now. The silly mindless dance of the smoke, those fucking mosquitoes The beautiful thin rich girl with cancer, the silly way I prayed. The way you said "wow" when we were togother. Legs up, pretzel. The swollen girl from Alabama – my growing distain for the south. The naive way I imagine myself pulling on the blond boys dreadlocks in the drug store. My vain hatred of celebrities & television. Silly children, swollen ovaries made sick with the incessant picking of fruit flies. My uncontrollable love for hippies, rain and quest for complete stillness and chaos. The NASTY way they gather at the beach, “pee” jeeps. The silly sweet wholesome American women. The enigmatic soldier’s stillness.

[Betsybug0]

My mother had told me she was insane – literally. That if we were to report her actions to a shrink, the shrink would put her in a mental institution. As if leaving our front door open when we went on vacation, leaving the nail-polish remover out for two hours (then spraying Lysol to cover the fumes), forgetting to read the directions and making soggy, blue muffins wasn’t enough… she was insane.

My mother had said that I was three times as worse. How could I be any worse than that? I knew I was a little crazy, almost failing out of middle school, calling my teacher slang names for male organs... whatever. I felt like I was the only sane one around. A man pulled down his pants in front of my yard and started pissing. There was a public restroom less than a block away. My parents would send each other naughty text messages and talk about how we “were made” around us. My dad would always want to hug us or touch us, if we did not; it was taken as an insult. They were immature and too sexual. Despite all of this, I still maintain the belief that my mother was the driving force in my siblings becoming outstanding individuals… or was she?

I found comfort in knowing that things were always going to be bad, just as things would be good. That the world was uncertain, people were selfish and apathetic. I was needy and loud, I was the dramatic one. I “dated” a lot, met a kid at summer camp who I “dated” over the Internet, loved it and kept doing it. Dating people online was so much easier – they were boyfriends at my fingertips, disposable income with no strings attached. T, J, E, (other) E, S and finally, Fish. Tom broke up with me because I was a crazy 13 year old who always wanted to know where he was, James disappeared one day, Eric was my stalker and the other Eric was quickly dumped for Fish.

Who the hell am I, always? Oh, the classic teen dilemma. I am a person who enjoys long walks… with my computer. I like food because it doesn’t talk back and give me any bullshit. I am addicted to sugar. I like movies and soup. I am extremely sensitive and angry. I get upset easily when people don’t use common sense or put away their dishes. I am OCD and pretty badass. I like AP classes.


Too tired.

[Betsybug0]

I don't know why I didn't stay home. Maybe it is because I wanted to be with all of my family friends-it is. All of these sugary drinks turn me into a bitch. I can't talk to him because we are on different time zones and I don't have my cell phone. We have five days left. I can't be here in this shithole anymore with these people. He makes me crazy, what a moron! All he ever does is talk about military school, fishing, the restaurant. Fish- you know what I am talking about. She is bugging me to use my computer. She left it on and it completly lost power. I can't STAND this. I absolutley cannot wait till NYC.

Shoot me.

[Betsybug0]

Adult_Swim is the only thing that makes sence to me. Video games and commercials are for whores.

[Betsybug0]

It’s hypnotizing
They are calling the universal name,
Cooing and coddling your children,
Molding insolent brains with
Christian values
It’s ending
They place you in the past,
Present, future
It’s a fuck-fast.
They are taking your money,
Sucking from the tit of the American people.
We’re dead, gone, corpses
Piled high in the holocaust of life.

Focus on the screen,
Let the white noise cancel out your problems
Southern accents send my siblings to die in the wasteland of sand.
The pretty woman on the T.V. screen, given away by her Iowa heart
Incessant voice of the politician.
Blah Blah Blah Win.

Turning heads pray
The pain away
God will cut
You down
Bang bang American boy Bang bang
The teenage angst