There. I said it. Not on some chalkboard.

November 15, 2011 :: 10:26 PM


evan peters freaks me out in this scene! :: american horror story :: ‘piggy, piggy’

So, if you’re not familiar with the show—

Tate Langdon (played by Evan Peters), does a Columbine-like school shooting, and then goes home. This scene happens after the SWAT team floods his bedroom.

I can’t even begin to tell you how uncomfortable that whole section of the episode made me. And then, THAT clip above. (ka-pow!)

His face, man. HIS FACE!

Gah. Just. Gah.

And then, just as the episode is ending, this:

“Violet… something’s changed in you. Toward me. You’re distant. Cold. I don’t know what I’ve done, but…I’ll leave you alone from now on if that’s what you want. Is that what you want? You know why I’d leave you alone? ‘Cause I care about your feelings more than mine. I love you. There, I said it. Not just on some chalkboard. I’d never let anybody or anything hurt you. I’ve never felt that way about anyone.”

Tate’s a hard character to love because of what he’s done, but Evan Peters is AMAZING in the way he can portray both good and evil Tate.

Is it Wednesday yet?!?!

Take off the mask, throw it away…

November 12, 2011 :: 10:24 PM


I’m actually having fun playing with Tumblr.

I didn’t think I would - it’s the home of tweenyboppers who ship fictional characters and reblog the same stuff everyone else is reblogging.

Whelp, guess who decided she’s actually a tweenybopper?

Here’s the thing, I don’t feel bad about this return to my tweenage years at all. Or my teenage years, for that matter.

Teenage me was full of angst, self-loathing, and had a chip on her shoulder the size of Canada. Life for that girl sucked… A lot. When I go back and look at all my journals from that time period, I sob. Hysterically. That girl was so fucked and she knew it. There was really nothing that could have made her life any better.

Don’t get me wrong, she had good friends, and she loved her father.


Even if she knew she was bipolar, it wouldn’t have been treated back then. That would have been weak, and her father wouldn’t have thought that there was anything seriously wrong anyway. Shit like that didn’t exist - it was all in her head. (Ha ha ha.)

When life was bad, when the depression took over, she looked for a way out. Obviously, she never did anything about it, but the thoughts were there. Powerful. Intoxicating. A non-stop chorus of voices in her head, telling her to just do it. End this shit and move on.

When life was good, and the mania took over, she bounced all over the place. She did a lot of things she’ll never be proud of during manic periods. Hurt a lot of people, too. But, damn, she felt good when she was doing it. She can’t regret doing those things - it’s not really how she was built, anyway.

It feels like that girl managed to miss out on a lot of teenaged magic. (Either that or she lived it and mental illness turned her brain to swiss cheese. That happens, too.)

Being able to go back (emotionally) twenty something years and ship Violate like I used to love New Kids on the Block feels good. It also makes me feel like a dirty pervert, but that’s OK. (Evan Peters is ALMOST young enough to be my kid. What? He’s over 18 and that’s all that matters! )

Lately, I’ve been reminded of Spring Heeled Jack, Frogboy and BiG MiSTAKE - the soundtrack to some of my worst years - and thinking about how it does get better. I hate saying that because it’s turned into such a cliche. But it’s the truth. My life did get better… not the version of better that I always wanted, but it’s better.

I have good friends, a lot of freedom, a guy that can tolerate just about any amount of crap I throw at him living in my house, furry children that love me even when I can’t love myself…

I still struggle with the bipolar, still make decisions that I should regret but don’t, and I still know that, in a lot of different ways, I’m completely fucked.

The only difference now is that I take meds that make the voices STFU.

She was walking through the park. She wore her hair long.

Pushing it aside, she said, “i don’t want to live anymore.”

Went home to her mom and her dad.

They did not understand her, and they only got mad.

They did not like the way she acted, they did not like the way she looked,

didn’t like the color of her friends, the way she wore her hair.

So she went into her room and she looked into the mirror.

She did not like what she saw. She did not like what she saw.

She wanted to tear it all off. She wanted to see her real self.

She wanted to tear it all off. She wanted to see her real self.

Take off the mask, throw it away.

She don’t care, she don’t care, what the other ones say.

Take off the mask, throw it away.

She don’t care, she don’t care, what the other ones say.

And now it’s summer and it’s a new day rising.

She feels heat and aspiration.

She feels the sun explode. Time is bliss and bliss is time.

She sees god in everything.

She loves you - she loves me

—“Take Off The Mask” - BiG MiSTAKE



If you want to find me on Tumblr, read my crappy fiction and overdose on American Horror Story / Violate, let me know -I’ll give you the URL (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).

BTW - The movie “Kick-Ass” has entirely too much violence and not enough Evan Peters.


Had a dream last night that the tree had lost its middle

November 08, 2011 :: 10:33 PM

The long awaited sequel to JAWSFEST 2005 (the 30th anniversary of the film), is JAWSFEST 2012 (for the 37th anniversary of the film, uh, OK)... and the hubby is going back to Amity Island for it. With his sister. I will gladly stay home because I am not nearly as much in love with Bruce the shark as they are.

Besides, I got to go to Boston by myself and learn all about how Jared Padalecki smooshed the do-not-push-this-button button.


There’s been a lot of stuff running through my head lately - stuff that shouldn’t be there, mostly. So I’m focused on stuff that is… OH! LOOK! SHINY OBJECT!

Yeah. There’s been a lot of… LOOK!! LOOK!! LOOK!! OVER THERE!! SUPER!! SHINY!! OBJECT!!

I know why I’m prone to overthinking things - it’s a combination of introversion and bipolar - but damned if I know how to stop it.  I know why I’m thinking about the things I shouldn’t be thinking about, too. Damned if I know how to stop that, too.

I guess I’m drawn to the dark side of things. The “good girls don’t do that” side of things.

Not suicide dark, not depression dark, just things that hide in the dark dark. No need to call the shrink or up my meds…

My friend, Wendy, is drawn to the dark side, too. She takes these deliciously dark photos that make me jealous of her eye, her skill with make up, all of it.

I’m not quite that skilled visually, but I’m not too bad with words, so I end up writing crap. In my journals. Where it will never be seen. Where I can write it over and over and over and over and over and… obsess over it in private.

I don’t know how to say what I want to say, how I want it to sound, so I think I’ll let the Indigo Girls try:
Begin my studies with this pencil and this paper, and I’m working through the grammar of my fears

Yeah, that.

I don’t want to get sentimental…

November 06, 2011 :: 9:05 PM

Escaped to Albany last night, to see my friends’ band play at Red Square.

I like the Albany shows - I’m meeting so much of the band’s extended family that I’m getting to the point where I’m never alone at a show. Last night, Mike looked at me and said, “I can’t remember your name, but you’re the girl from New Hampshire.” Yes, yes, I am, Mike. Then, there was Jesse. “You’re the super fan - you come from somewhere out East.”  Amazingly, both of them remembered which show they met me at: Mike at the Putnam Den; Jesse at Valentine’s Upstairs.

J came with me and I don’t know if seeing me with people outside of the band gave him peace of mind or not. It’s not like I’m hanging out with random strangers at these shows… oh, wait, that’s how I met Mike and Jesse. *grin*

So many good memories from last night: Rollz did the ‘catdaddy’ dance! J FINALLY got to hear their cover of “Black and Tans”! The sign in the elevator! Annie got her fingerless gloves! My post-show whacked out dream about Tate from American Horror Story!


Seriously, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but lately I’m all shippy. Vampire Diaries’ Damon and Elena. Supernatural’s Dean and Castiel… and now AHS’ Tate and Violet.

There’s something about Tate and Violet, specifically, that really make me want to dig into the canon and start writing fanfic, or roleplay. It’s like I’m a teenager again, but without all the angst. I had written some fanfic a gazillion years ago, but I didn’t know it was a genre all it’s own, and I had NO idea it was so… complicated. What I wrote back then was decidedly NOT canon and it probably would have resulted in my being tarred and feathered. The internet has both stifled and increased my creativity. If I had known that what I wrote was so far out of canon, I probably would have never written a word of it. If I do decide to write my fanfic, now I can research the canon and not screw it up.

Of course, now that I’ve come out in favor of Violate, I’m going to have to deal with the haters. Tate is deeply disturbed, and responsible for a Columbine-like incident, but he also seems so soft, sweet, and vulnerable, that it’s hard to NOT like his character. I know there’s a lot of conflict about the school shooting storyline, and the fact that he’s a complete psycho, but his character is like an onion and I do love me some onions. 

So there you go - two things I’m all obsessy about - Black Mountain Symphony and American Horror Story. I’d love to write more, but I can’t keep my eyes open.

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