I missed

I would just like to say that Live Journal is a pain in my ass.

and that other people who share fandom with me there can bite me
and that other people who love Highlander can bite me too.
They obviously can't fucking hang so fuck them.

but damn. Aparently I am not geeky enough because I only have 1 computer and a laptop.
and I don't go to Comic-Con
Fuck you. I didn't want nerdy friends anyway.
*pout*
so I don't give a rats ass about Star Wars, or dragon ball AND I wash my friggin' hair.
Nope, you can't chill Rach, your hair's too clean.

And listen here, geeks of the world, just cause a girl doesn't take shit, likes DK and drinks whiskey, and smokes pot, doesn't mean she doesn't love Highlander too.
And no, I don't have long pretty hair, I don't want a crappy replica of Duncan's sword, and I don't wear fucking leather bodices, or my jeans pulled up waay to high...... guess that means I don't get the password to the fucking geek club.
*sigh*
I think there's some folks in the world that need to dismount off of their very tall horses and do some zen meditation and realize that elitist geeks are just as big of peices of shit as any other elitists.

There Can Be Only Some

About a week ago I 'submitted' my application to join a Highlander RPG game online.
And I haven't got a reply. I don't think I will. I think I said something to make the chick who runs it not like me.
Although I have no idea what it could be.
and I have no idea what to do about it.
I swear I jinx myself!! When something cool is about to happen, and I tell people about it, it ends up not happening!
and that's exactly what happened. I was working on my character for like 2 weeks and I told some of my friends and I told Jason, before I ever even finished it. ANd now? NOthing.

I'm so sad.
Really. I know that's foolish, but I am so sad about it.
I want to e-mail the moderator, but what do I say?
Hey did you get my e-mail? of course she got it. it's e-mail, not the Pony Express...
ALl I can think is "what did I do?" *cry*
I mean, I can see if she didn't like what I'd come up with, she would tell me, "hey this sucks..." but she didn't.
I wish she would at least e-mail me to tell me that she hates my guts and thinks daleks are gay or something.
Also, I know this is shady, but it's happened to other people, kind of..
What if she took my e-mail address and found me on MySpace and found out all the crazy stuff I do, and hates me because of that?
in her "rules" it was very forward no drug use. I mean, I can't imagine someone to be so lame as to read another person's blog, find out they like various intoxications, and then use that as an excuse to themselves to act as if I don't exist.

I feel like a psycho comming up with this theory, but It's not as if I can go about saying this stuff to anyone else.

Even tho I want to.
I'm bad at confrontation.
and this is confrontation. Or rather, confrontation needs to happen to get it resolved.
SO what do I do?
just be sad I guess. and I am. I know it is stupid. Sad because I can't join an online RPG.
But I was really looking forward to it.

Ten Minutes

10 minutes.
Is all I have to put something in notepad

I haven’t written shit in a while.
Nothing real
I have been meaning to, but the fact that I have the ideas is what’s putting me off.
There’s too many to choose from. Where Do I start?
So I don’t.
Go figure.

In my head it keeps running.
But then it goes away and I forget about it for the rest of my life or until someone says "hey remember that one time?"
And then I do. How could I forget?
It’s to be one of those things on my grave.
Except that I will have no grave.
I will be cast off into the wind someplace of my request.
Maybe into a cat box, so some cat that I loved can touch me one last time.
And that brings me back to what I’ve been thinking about.
That sea foam green hospital in Bakersfield.
I hated it.
I cried so hard in that ugly hallway
For the woman that I had loved so much and who was not dead
but was dead.
She touched my hand one last time.
A person that she loved
And we left her there.
Alone.

And it was months before we knew when it happened.
Months!
I was on the stairway.
The one with the opening in my old house
Where I can see all of the bottom floor
And my mom told me she was gone.
She has been gone for a while.
No one told us when it happened.
But I knew she was gone that day in that ugly hospital.
With the TV on and the nurse
That told me she tried to end her life.
And I thought,
It’s already over,
Why don’t you just let her?

Something I can't say out loud.

The other weekend I saw the movie V for Vendetta. It's actually very rare that I have a desire to see a film in the theatre. I saw a preveiw for it before another film a while ago and remembered thinking to myself, "Hey, that looks cool. I should go see it."And that was all.So we went to go see it.On Easter.It was nothing like I expected it to be, but even more that I could have asked for.That sounds so cheesy in reference to a film, but it's true.For those who haven't seen it, the film is set in the future in England. The UK is a totaltarian state, and the most powerful nation in the world. It seems to be a cross between Nazi Germany, 1984, and Brave New World.i love these concepts and sorts of stories.The utopian societies and conspiracy theories set into our cultures and literature are some of the most thought provoking and deepest meaningful ideas for me.
I mean to say that I love these stories and ideas; they strike a chord somewhere deep inside that I can't explain.

Now, as sensative as i am, I keep it on the inside. apart from the obvious love for kittens birds and anything the colour orange.
My true feelings, loyalties to ideals and issues remain inside on a shelf no one else is meant to look at.
I descovered a couple years into college, that no one gives a damn about the issues you care about and no one will change their minds no matter how much proof you give them.
All i can do is keep myself educated so when the time does come where knowledge is power, I wont be so easily rounded up.
I'm pretty sure this will never happen as there are many people in the world who strive to be educated to make sure that history doesn't repeat itself and fiction doesn't become reality.

This movie is a good example.
The message is to never forget our histories and the people who try so hard to change things, even if they fail.

The whole movie stirred my emotions, but not to the point of it being obvious. I'm great at putting up a cold front even when I'm boiling inside.
At the end of the movie, they blow up parliment.
They win, of course. and bring down the evil government.
As I saw the explosion I thought, "that is so beautiful."
And then I paused to think, "my god, how can I say that? that's a government building!!"
And then I realized that the second thought was just programmes into my mind. We are trained to know that going against the government is wrong. Blowing up building is wrong.
And that if we never had thoughts like these, and never had stories and books and movies like these, no revolutions would ever happen.
I thought to myself "It's thoughts like these that keep us free."
and I started to cry. In the theatre, next to J.
I thought for a second to try to stop myself, which is very difficult with that much emotion, but I decided not to.
I cried and let myself be seen. I knew Jason wouldn't think i was weird. I knew he would understand.
but he was suprised, not suprisingly.
He asked me what made me so 'upset.' That I never cry like that at films. He said, he'd been practicllay crying the who way through, but that I never do such things.
I couldn't tell him. I said, I'd say later.
But I never did.
I just can't say it, even though I'm sure he thinks the same things and he would completely understand. and agree.
but I just can't come out with it.

I don't Like Poetry

More and more when I see this stuff, I realize that I don't like it.
I have no patience for it.
Blah, blah, my mother hated me....
In truth, my own deppressive teenage poetry was much like this.
And it is crap. Depressing teenage poetry.
As much as I would have liked people to understand it, Now it is much better if no one does.
A friend of mine writes poetry all the bleeding time. and it's all in the same format.
4-6 (usually 6) little paragraphs of 4-5 lines eachreassuring the reader that the World isn't going to
Destroy him and how is isn't like everyone else.
Occasionally there is a line or two I find to be profound
but most of the time I am just like. "god damnit man, go sit in the fucking sunshine for a few minutes!!"
But meticulous poets are not in the mood to understand my 'streams of consciousness' that I much prefer to write.

Hey youre shit might be more technical, but so calculus, and fuck that shit....

Dreams are my Intoxication

My birthday came and went like a souped-up honda CRV.
but as little progress I have made in Algebra, I have made ten times that other-wheres.
Of course It might seem that I have slipped further away, but I feel further away from the doom I kept seeing the horizon of.
Insanity. Deppression. It's been a long while since I've seen them. A good long while.
I like it that way.
for the first time in my life I picked up a pen (or actually my lap-top) and typed something not assigned for a class. It was terrifying.
I hid in my room, even though no one was home but my cat;
Password protected my Windows, even though no one will look at it.
And began typing. I felt foolish at first.
I wonder, does anyone else feel foolish when they write?
But am I more foolish for writing about my silly obsessions or for talking to myself and hiding in their dreamscapes.
*We are not hiding from reality, we are living in a reality we create.*
Why am i so shy about what I love?
because it's silly to love someone who doesn't exist. But it's an entirely different kind of love.
The kind I'm not getting elsewhere.

First Drabble

This is the first thing I have written for a fic/drabble blog.
It is supposed to be on live journal, but I can't figureout how to post it there.

Title: none.
Author: Agitatethis
Challenge: #16 Rain
Rating: G?
Series/Characters/Pairings: Highlander- Methos/(no one)
Author’s Notes (if any): I love the Methos character, and pound cake from Amsterdam (mmmmm) *tee hee*
1st written thing i've posted


It was mid July and the streets were not as busy as they could be for Amsterdam in the summer. The rain was pouring in sheets; the few people brave enough to be outside were soaked and even fewer weren’t running for shelter. One of the few was a tall slender man in his mid fifth millennia. He quietly stood on a small bridge connecting two streets, staring at the drops splashing onto the water in the canal. To him the rain came down slowly and each drop hit the water with a unique and loud burst of noise equaled only by the racing thoughts in his head. The drops were not melding into the water as they should, but instead rocketing down like heat seeking missiles to the bottom of the canal looking for life. Wasn’t there life in these canals once? Methos thought. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the water and try as he would, he couldn’t see through it either. He heard a distant car horn echo from the cobbled streets through his ears and into the back of his brain. Yes, life. And no machines…Suddenly, the raindrops seemed to have finished their search and returned from the water, shooting upwards and smacking into his Face. He tried to look away, to shield his face with his hands, but found his will to accomplish the task was not strong enough. Finally, a response occurred in his brain and he turned away, but all the world was stop animation photography and the man became too dizzy to stand. He sat down against the bridge wall and let the rain continue assaulting him. What the hell was in that marble-cake anyway?

I know you're hoping for some permance

I just can't seem to muster up the will power to go to class. I'd rather go without dinner. Which Im not going to either.. Probably.
I guess I waot be getting my test results back tonight. Worst part is, I am going to smile and make like I did go to class if Jason asks. But i'll avoid that happening.
I know that whatever tests I do poorly on from now forth will be because I have not been going frequently. But seriously. Concentrating in that class is like speaking farsi to me! It's hard. to say the LEAST. It's so rare that I understand the concepts better when taking instruction from the teacher. And forget asking him to explain things. If I did do super poorly on this past test, I know I will have to re-take the class. So sad. So sad for me miss super duper good GPA.
I wanted to cry and cry the night J helped me study. He is a great tutor. i can't comprehend how he gets it. There's some things in algebra that are sensible, that shine out into the dark abysmal night of my muddles comprehension. and I can solve the problems!!!!!!
But mostly the rest of it is slime. And when I try to solve it, it's like crickets chirping in the backround. EVen though perhaps 15mins ago I was solving a problem similar and doing fine. Even when I *know* what I'm doing. I'm sorry college degree, you'll have to wait a while because I can't sigure out how to solve a solution set by the Addition Method. The Subsitution Method makes more sense and can be accomplished occasionally, but I have to do the addition one on the test.
Oh for fuck's sake, for the first 3 math classes, I was past the "but I don't ever need this for my degree or for real life" argument, but I'm back to it.
Back to me being tutored. I can't stand not understanding how to do something. I don't care if I'm GOOD at it, but a basic comprehension would be nice. It sucks more than an amazonian river full of leeches not getting it and having my boyfriend (who, in reality, is better at everything than me) get it and explain it to me and I *Still* can't do the fucking problems. Or , he helps me, i get it I can do the problem we practice on, but another problem comes along and knocks me over, taking my lunch money, and my dignity. It's bad enough having to take all this crazy math for an English degree, but to fail miserably at it....
I've never failed any class before.
It's like that time I got a "B" on a paper in American Lit. I cried for an hour.
not because I didn't deserve it, but I can do better.
I *know* how to do better in English, there's ways to go about it.
But math??
All is not lost, however. When I fail, I can take it again, the next grade replaces my standing grade, and I'll get a better teacher. Like the guy Jason had or even the teacher from my previous math class. Damn you college I attend for switching professors on us and not telling!