nic sheff, mon semblable, mon frere!

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ah, nic sheff. nic sheff, nic sheff, nic sheff. you have quickly become one of my admired authors. one of my heroes so swiftly. your memoire had me swooning when i wasn't cringing. you are a literary young man--i hope i do not insult you by noting that you regard my allusion to Mr. T. S. Elliott, however i may have misspelled his iconic name.

i am unapologetic in my signature practice of the utilization of absent capitalizations and arcane spellings. and obsessions with anything worthy. anything beautiful.

ah, nic sheff. nic sheff, nic sheff, nic sheff.
you don't blog anymore publicly. i would have been honoured to snoop some more at:

New Dawn Transmission - Nic Sheff's Journal of Recovery

you are accomplished and published. you are such, SUCH the "beautiful boy" that your father waxes on in pride, nevertheless.
can i flirt with you by saying that i am published as as well? i am a sad young literary woman? my teachers in high school all cried at my graduation (literally and quite audibly enough to ruin my picture) when i announced that i would be pursuing medical school? that i am envisioning myself to be a younger Anne Rice writing creepy semi-fictitious tales from my old hometown in Yazoo City, Mississippi -- full of its witch, ghosts, and walking-dead residents? the history, the names, the graves, the families, the locations... all are emblazoned in my brain from reality, and i'm weaving them into something that my aunt frankly claims will be a "Best-motherfruckin'-Seller!" and i'm pretty. and i'm single. and i don't think it weird of you to think of a young girl's scarred wrists as "hot". i've got scars of my own, but surely the both of of us have grown up some for our own sakes. and yeah, i admit that i know the ways of a drug seizing control of all of my body--in all too familiar of a way that you have gone into detail about in Tweak. i'm only preserving some of my modesty. and flirting. i know Effexor, Seroquel, Lexapro, Klonopin, in-patient stays, dismissals, a broken engagement to be married, despair, and the whirlwind cycle that we are always in and never taming. me for more than half of my 22 year-old life. oh, boy.

ah, nic sheff. nic sheff, nic sheff, nic sheff.
where have you gone? are you alive and well? alive as an artist. a beautiful man? it seems as f you are so imminent and transcendent at the same time, like celebrities are, like God is. but don't listen to me preach to you for one second. because, you know. you hate that sort of thing. and who said that i would be good at it anyway? 

ah, nic sheff. nic sheff, nic sheff, nic sheff.
how tall are you? who do you doubt your attractive appearance? how deep is your voice? can i touch your fun-looking hair? do you like petite, teeny-tiny, intelligent, well-read, discerning, triumphant, victorious young ladies (younger than you) with a taste for the grotesque and the existential with a load of rude adulterations thrown inside? what do you think that we could talk about? i like to imagine that we have walked a road not too far diverged. i like to think that i like boys who are as singularly unique as quirky as i am. boys who won't ever be understood no matter how many pages they pen. i like boys that i know because i know the ways of myself. and i am a Libra with merciless charms and a hopeless inclinations to romance and relations. (or, you know, an email and some correspondence)

did i mention that i am pretty? that i am an ex-Hooters Girl building my life up into something after University gilded and worthy. beauty from the ashes attributing to my stained lungs.aged enough to date you or, just post about my fanship.

ah, nic sheff. nic sheff, nic sheff, nic sheff. mon semblable, mon frere! would that we could talk.... maybe when i am published again, you could shake my hand or give me a hug. maybe i'm going to sit up a little more and wake up now. and when anyone asks me why i'm giggling for no obvious reason, i'll just click my tongue and giggle some more.

would that we could share anything. "everything."

here's hoping to a good Google ranking and your intrigue. i'm a fan. only because i know both value and worth. and isn't it the saying that goes: it takes one to know one? 
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quick note while onwards to Damascus. hiatus.

i broke up with my ex. but don't go, "Woah!" like Liz did following my Facebook update! it was a decision i gladly made, and it earned me a lot of deserved relief. turns out: i'm not a "true" Christian (even though he had no qualms with me wanting sex from him and getting it whenever i wanted it--the hypocrite), he cannot see me successfully raising any kids of his that I might have (regardless of whether i even entertained such a zany notion as getting pregnant by him! i'm 22 with no babies--i'm a pro at preventing unwanted pregnancies), AND he can't imagine a future with me because of my active disobedience to the Word of God within the Bible as the sole grounds of all morality. sounds to ME as if MY EX has a complex in which he believes HIMSELF to be the authority of all Christian morality, despite his fallen state as a sinner who is only made right in God's eyesight through the sacrifice of Jesus as Lord and Saviour. "You are not superior, you can be wrong (and ARE a hypocrite for gladly letting me fuck you into the next month whenever I felt the urge rise within me, and then go about Bible-raving), and you are NOT God Themselves in all of Their Infinite Wisdom! you don't know everything of the Word of God because it all cannot be revealed to us, and who says that YOUR WAY is THE WAY? even a "sucky" Christian like me recognizes this!

he even went so far and insulted my choice in Christian Living literature (i can't win for losing, and all my efforts to seek God are STILL sucky and inferior in my ex's eyes)! he says that there is a serious flaw to Joyce Meyer's teachings, which is why the Christian bookstore uptown doesn't carry any of her published works. PLUS, he won't even stand within a 3-foot radius of anything relating to "New Age" or "New Thought" because it is against God. that's funny, because every New Age book i've purchased talks extensively about how good and powerful God is. in fact, the popular book, The Secret quotes Jesus extensively to support its content! no goat heads and devil horns ANYWHERE. and in my defense, i owned my Joyce Meyer Christian Living book, Start Your New Life Today, waaaaay before I first began to research and study anything related to the "New Age/New Thought" movement. but, hey. i don't consider him as a loss. who knew that i could irrevocably lose all of my religion and salvation by reading teachings from Gandhi and Jesus (whose knowledge isn't very NEW, at ALL) all while not submitting myself to any deity or "god?" i could have sworn that God was with me the entire time that i was reading chapters on learning how to generate more positive energy and spread more Love. hmmm...

anyway, my blog/lifestream is on a HIATUS. i'm listening to my doctor in the process of continuing my progress, growth, and strength during my treatment, by taking a sabbatical of sorts. i wonder what will be revealed unto me while i am actively traveling my own, personal road to "Damascus." 


catch up with all of y'all wonderful things soon. keep me in my mind, maybe even say a little prayer for my benefit and well-being (or just for more of my smiles)! i SHALL return. i always do!

Biloxi Beach!

Me and Dad LOVE Steven Tyler!

AWWW! My Mommy rocks my socks!

!!!!__________________________________________!!!!

PLUS, while out randomly at a bookstore for my favorite type of retail therapy and to sate my one, true addiction, i spoke something into existence: i was covered in the infallible armor of my Positive Energy and High Vibrations which move and breathe immensely forceful like pure, untamed FIRE, and i confidently spoke from my Spirit, my Inner Being which knows only good and all truth and said, "Momma, something very good is going to happen today."

as I exactly visualized and intended in operation of the powerful Law of Attraction, the barista manager said that Books A Million indeed needed help in the barista as well as on the floor as a bookseller! not only this, but the store's top General Manager (the hiring manager) happened to come in, and the barista manager found him and introduced me to him! i shook both of their hands, gave them my phone number, etc. the GM was pleased with my nature of being an accomplished and avid reader, and with my well-rounded experience of work in retail, customer service, etc. he seemed to be very interested in what my (brag) padded and impressive resume could offer the needy Books A Million staff, and i complimented him on the store's high-quality customer service and pleasant experiences that i had received during the past decade, or so, during my loyal and frequent visits to that particular bookstore, and how some of the associates know me by name because i'm in there every week. i even name-dropped and confessed which employee was the one who suggested that I pay the $20 fee to become a card-carrying Millionaire's Member for the coveted and well-appreciated and frequently-applied discount (along with the sweet tote bag and other swag, coupons, etc). the manager smiled and laughed with me in the presence and under the influence of my Libran. he ACTUALLY interviewed me ON THE SPOT, right there in the manga section, and gave me the instructions to the application process and told me what to look out for inside the online assessment to make the best presentation of myself. he gave me special hints!

i called the store back today to speak with the hiring manager. i called him by his name, and called me by my own in a very friendly, warm, and familiar fashion because he immediately remembered the pleasant first impression he gained from me. i alerted him that i had completed both available applications online, attached my resumé, and submitted them both. he then said that he would set up an interview for Monday or Tuesday, and that he would accordingly call me and be in contact with me then. HOW EXCITING!!!! 

i spoke something good into existence; i wasn't particular. i only had complete confidence and faith that such a thing would indeed occur. and THEN i get offered the very coveted job of my dreams by what appears to be "random chance!" but i know that i manifested by working the powerful Law of Attraction in my favor. i'm keeping my fingers crossed and praying that i land this position. the managers were very clear about their need for help, so it's quite possible that the job could be mine! i can already imagine: me, surrounded by books, talking about books, touching books, selling books, promoting books, suggesting books, books, BOOKS--and getting paid for this "labour!"

keep your own fingers crossed and say a prayer for me, wherever you are whenever you can! 


Big Love Your Ways -- xoxo

well, i've got somethin' to say!

i killed a pit bull the other day!

(don't read any further if you cannot tolerate the details of graphical reference to open surgical wounds, violence against attacking animals, gore, guns, saws, and Tough Ladies with not one, but TWO firearms) 

truly not as bad as it appears. she's watching TV right now.

i rushed outside to find my baby girl, YaYa, down and caught at her neck by the jaws of an evil pit bull bitch that we had been fostering from the threshold of death for the past few months. when a pit's jaws clamp down, NO force can pry them open. the pit has to relax before the jaws release. i heard YaYa crying in pain with her eyes going red. i could only imagine the damage to her jugular and i wouldn't let MY baby die--without the responsible one dying FIRST.

i tried to break up the fight with my words. i reached my bare hands inside and tried to pry open the great, slobbering jaws of the pit, but they didn't budge. i put a pole in the pit's jaws and used my weight into my foot as a lever in attempt to pry the jaws from YaYa's neck. i went and got the rifle from my uncle's bedroom to shoot the bitch in the head and get it all over with nice and quick. there were no rounds for the chamber, and the damned thing was jammed anyway. useless. i went and got my brother's .22 pistol to take some head shots at the pit to get her off. there were no bullets. WHY DOES NO GUN IN MY REDNECK COUNTRY MANOR OF A HOME HAVE ANY AMMUNITION?! i spied a saw in the garage where the fight was still raging. YaYa sounded awfully hurt, damaged, and in unbearable pain. i pressed a button, but the saw wouldn't run. i had had enough by now. i was going to end this violently and with all of the aggression, anger, hate, desperation, determination, and crazed drive to kill that i could muster in me at the moment (and boy was it a lot). little, ole me, saw in hand, reached way back overhead and brought the deadly sharp blades of the saw down cracking into the pit bulls skull. i'm telling you, the skull audibly had been cracked quite impressively. and i didn't stop. i kept hacking with all of my blood-lusty might and every bit of force and strength to drive the saw's blades harder and deeper down into the head of the attacking dog. fur flew from my blows, blood spewed and spurted from fatal stabs down into the dog's own brain. i shortly saw the pit bull's eyes go dim and roll back into her head as she was losing consciousness and life. her jaws slacked and it was just enough for my YaYa to split and dart inside of the house for cover. i stayed outside. with the saw. i hacked down the dog's head into a broken and bleeding nightmare. i was met with wet, gushing sounds of pulp splitting, and the sounds of skeletal stability being ruined. i reached back way overhead and made quick work of mutilating the head of my former pet. she went still with blood pouring from her misshapen eyes in her gruesomely and warped shape of what was remaining of her cranium. i hacked at her neck over and over and grunted as i partially decapitated her. i stabbed her with the saw. i heard her whimpering in the throes of her being currently murder, so i kept hacking at what was becoming a flattened stretch of bits of loose fur, bloody flesh, innards, and large pools of bright red blood.

when Animal Control arrived, the wagged their finger at me for using two guns that were not registered to me, but chucked when i told them the damned rifle was jammed anyway and i couldn't find any fucking rounds or bullets anywhere! the Sheriff pulled the cigarette that i was smoking out of my mouth and threw it away directly. "I used to smoke like a train; you ought to stop that early on, you know, little miss.!" the Sheriff and the accompanying cop laughed at my accomplishment and called me a "Tough Lady." they removed the remains and mess from my garage and suggested that i buy myself a nice, new rifle to register to myself. i'm going to comply with that.

YaYa is fine. her wound is still open. she had a drain sutured in during her surgery. God is good and let me save my puppy's life, because her jugular was completely unharmed, and the skin there is alive and will heal, so there's no need for a risky future surgery to separate her flesh and muscle from the organ in attempts to save it. she has five prescriptions: a pain reliever, a sedative, an antibiotic tablet for twice a day, a spray-on steroid for healing and cleaning, and a spray-on aluminum bandage. it makes her all shiny, and i've been calling her "Silver" for the past couple of days. she's antsy to no surprise of mine, so i had to also purchase a muzzle to strap onto her snout after her sedative calms her down in order to apply her daily sprays to the wounded areas without risking some painful bites. i've even mastered the art of using a leash effectively to lasso around her middle (she has no neck suitable for a collar to go around), for walks and such. i love my baby YaYa. we take our medicine at the same time together, and both of our mix of medications has increased our appetites. she has been my partner for several midnight snacks and second lunches and the like. she, with her sparkly silver aluminum bandage sprayed onto her neck and her surgically inserted drainage tool, is lying on Momma's (my) bed right now suffering no pain, just the annoyance with her plastic drainage tool getting in her face and pissing her off. she's content and tiredly loving my pets and rubs. she kisses me in the mouth as she has always done. she still rushes at my two cats just to knock them over when they invade her territory (she's still a spoiled, Tough bitch). she's my baby. and she's alive.
(end of my Amazonian warrior woman blood-lust attack of rage with multiple weapons tale that i like to brag about)

• oh, and my dearest "Claytoris" and i are having so much fun together:

• and look at my new calendar! it's March (for me, and for you, and for Kagome, and for InuYasha in Feudal Japan)!

any InuYasha nerds besides yours truly?

• and this is my second mention of this awesomeness! i have a brand-new and fully functional Google Voice Number!

absolutely without charge (unless you happen to be International, outside of the USA) and with all of the freedom and familiarity as with any other telephone, you may call me to chat, listen to my charming, thick accent during my voicemail greeting, leave me a silly voicemail message laughing about said thick-ish Southern accent, and even send me an SMS txt message! if not connecting to me via the widget, then the number directly to my line is: (601) 871-0635 ahhh! exciting and SO cool! cookies to the one who leaves the funniest voicemail or txt message!