Recently in Selfish Ranting Category

It's been a while since I've posted as usual. I think that not much happens in my life which is why I can't seem to get it up to write an entry every day. But I guess that's my own fault as I don't put myself out there in the world like I should.

Anyway, went to see Tool at The Nokia Theater on Monday. It was an awesome fucking show; much better than the one I saw at The Staples Center back in September of 2006 which was the first time I had ever seen Tool. My sister bought tickets for my birthday that year and since Tool is one of my favorite bands, I was stoked.

We had better seats this time and Nokia is a smaller theater which houses about 8,000 people so it was way civilized, plus I had money this time (as I have a much better job) which always seems to make things more enjoyable even if you don't spend much of it.

I do have to say that Tool is just an incredible band. They're as close to purity in music as you can get. There's no pretence of ulterior motives to what they do. They just want to make music that is meaningful without being pussy about it and that deserves respect.

They've been around forever so I can't really add them to music section, but I may still upload some of my favorite Tool songs as people who haven't heard of them (which is insane because they're famous) can check them out if they're so inclined.

As far as the lackluster droll of my life goes, I'm getting really irritated with people's expectations of how I'm supposed to handle my diagnosis of diabetes.

In fact, I'm sick of writing about it and more sick of talking about it, but my family seems to think that I'm blowing the whole thing off (which I am not) and being an incompliant patient and that shit is so untrue. I take my fucking medication and I am very aware of my medical condition; I can't fucking avoid it, but I'm not going to let it define me as a person. I'm not going to fucking walk around with a stamp on my forehead saying type 2 diabetes and I'm not going to walk up to every person I meet on the street and say, "Hi, my name is Tiffany and I have type 2 diabetes." People don't need to know my business unless I tell them that shit and I'm not going to walk around with some badge of shame because of it. For a year I was sick without knowing it and managed to go to work and live my life. Yes, I've made changes and need to make more, but I'm not a fucking cripple and I'm not going to let people talk to me like I'm a child and treat me as if I can't wipe my own ass.

Of course, my mother in particular, thinks I'm being completely irrational about the whole thing and I should just shut my mouth and be pathetic, but that's always been our problem. She doesn't know how to get the fuck out of my business and let my handle my shit on my own. Why is it so hard for her to understand that she needs to BACK OFF?

*Holds hand up dismissively* don't try and answer that. I know you don't know I'm just throwing the rhetorical question out there... It's just very frustrating.

Hmm, I've sat here and written a venomous rant on my blog but it hasn't changed my situation. I still have the same problem I had ten minutes ago, but I have to remind myself that that really isn't the point of this blog anyway.

Just typing out my issues isn't going to solve my problems. However, it DOES help me become aware of them and at least plant the seed of solution in my head.

Hi *waves*. I need a new fucking cell phone. The battery on mine has the life span of a goddamned fruit fly. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to fork over 60 bucks to get a new battery for this piece of shit. I hate the phone anyway and it was free! Why would I pay 60 dollars to replace a battery on a phone that was free? What would they want next, my first-born child? Fuck that shit. I’ll just have to bite the bullet and get new shit. I want a camera phone anyway.

So it’s what, Five days into 2006? I hate the New Year. I like New Year’s Eve and crap, but that first week of January just kicks my ass. I swear this has been the longest, most grueling week of my entire life. I just want to roll up in the fetal position and die until Friday at 5pm. Then I would magically rise from the dead (like Jesus), refreshed and renewed and ready for a blissful, fun filled weekend. Dude, if I was “the second coming”, I’d be too much rock for one hand. I’d totally abuse my “god status”, but who gives a fuck. There be no war or hunger. Just sex, drugs and rock and roll, baby… and hip-hop. I can’t dis my peeps, ya heard.

Yes, this is “selfish Tiffany” talking right now. I’ve been feeling really “fuck the world” lately. Which is weird cause what’s the fucking point of taking anti-depressants if they just make you a moody bitter bitch? As I recall, it’s supposed to do the exact opposite. Pharmaceutical companies lie… LIE I say!

Anyway yeah, if you haven’t noticed I’m a bit on edge. Probably because of weaning myself back on the Zoloft but also because another year has passed and I am, if not more, pathetic than I was the year before. I’m exceptional at being average and that pisses me off so freaking bad. I have no motivation. I get it from my mother. I am being rather anal about cleaning though, which is always a good thing. I cleaned my room. Yes, it’s true. I actually got off my lazy ass and cleaned my room. Amazing, I know. I also washed dishes without my parental unit yelling at me to do so. I know… hell is freezing over as we speak. But I see it this way; I work 40 hours a week to help keep all of us in the lifestyle to which we have become accustomed, so I don’t see why she can't wash a fucking dish from time to time. But yes, to prove my point and not go off on some random tangent, I do get little bursts of motivation. They are short and rarely sweet, but they do occur. I guess I’m not a completely lost cause.

Speaking of lifestyles to which one wishes to become accustomed. I’ve decided to be on the look out for a sugar daddy. A nice older gentleman to pay my bills and shower me with affection for barely legal, if not completely illegal sexual favors. See, I think I would be really good at being a trophy girlfriend. I know how to spend ridiculous amounts of money on useless shit I don’t need and I’m not afraid to “sing for my supper”, so to speak. I gotta earn that paper after all. You know, keep it real and shit.

Anyway, I’m going to leave it at that as I sense that I am frightening you, dear reader. Please, don’t be scared. Tiffany is okay. She just needs to steal a Valium… or two for her mother’s “candy store”. I’m so turning into a junkie, but I’m high class about it. No street drugs for this spoiled bitch. Only the prescription shit.

Yeah… I need to go. See you peeps on the flipside. Peace, Love and blessed it be.

Hi *waves*. As you can see, new layout. I know, I know. How long have I dragged my ass on this one? I've lost count, but at least I got this shit up. The way I've been feeling of late, I haven't wanted to do shit concerning the web. I literally forced myself to get this shit done. Fuck! Ya'll should be grateful!

Umm, okay, maybe I went a little overboard with that. It's the stress talking. Did I mention I hate my job?

Anyway, I gotta go put my work clothes in the wash. I have to go to work tomorrow. God I hate my job... oh yeah, I already mentioned that.

One more thing... Why am I in love with Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy in the BBC version of "The Pride and The Prejudice"? I love that mini-series and Colin is just sexy. I'm so getting that on DVD.

Peace and Love.