Schizopath, or How I Built the Bomb.

I've been speeding up the process of what feels like losing my mind.

In reality, I think it's actually 'feeling' things for, like, the first time ever.
Fucking disgusting.
I'm terrified that the future is 'nothing.' My future. That I'll play out this teen angst depression/avoidance bullshit till I take my forever nap.

I'm tired of thinking decisions are precious little fucking little precious things that are too important & precious to make. I'm bitter that I really will never be 20 & beautiful & tall & stupid. And happy. And EVERYTHING.
I built my house of cards on everyone understanding that I was 'cool.' Extra Special. There's 20 yrs worth of new girls breaking new ground in that area everyday. And I pulled a geographical & don't even have a local fan club anymore (poor me. ME ME ME ME ME MEEEEEEEE).

You know you've hit a dark point when you wish you would have gotten married drunk or knocked up as a teenager just so you didn't have to sit and stare at those things like they are some mortifying coin flips that will magically grow you up, possible kill you, be everything you wanted, or simply elude you like everything else normal & not nearly as stifling as you'd like to think.

I've spent my whole life barely covering some very basic reactionary needs. Like simply not being alone.
Now, I genuinely love someone. Someone who 95% of the time seems specifically made for me in ways I could have never even allowed myself to dream of in the past. I naturally magnify that other 5% (it's a tricky 5%, lemme tell you) and live in fear of slipperiness, the weather, and most of all, myself. My aging, smarty pants, too short and not gorgeous self. It's a big world filled with NOT MEs. How could anyone resist that?

One of my good old fall-back eating disorders started to pop up today & I also talked about getting hair extensions. Especially bad signs if you are over 35, have never actually had hair extensions, and are coming around to believe that your former anorexic grandmother may have actually always been right: everyone who weighs 100 lbs (or under) really is happier.

I used the word 'schizopath' in a conversation today completely by accident (wasn't quick enough deciding between 'schizo' and sociopath). My best friend & I instantly loved it, wondered if it was a real word & discovered it's a band on MySpace (good for them).

Anyway, turns out I have a schizopath-sized hole in my soul that gets 95% filled each day. Now if it will just be mine forever..

Friday the 13th, 2009. Part II

I'm spending at least part of mine screening the Urban Outfitters' catalog come-to-life that is the new Last House on the Left. I think it's gonna be fucking sexy. Why be ugly when you can be fucking gorgeous. I hope they all have sex with each other.

This makes me Happier

This makes me Happy.

For Lulu

I hate my brain.

Eight is Enough 09

I'm obsessed with watching Eight is Enough on MeTooTV.

I decided to recast for 2009 because I'm that much of a mental patient.
Actors today are so gorgeous, I'm not entirely happy with my choices, but casting for little quirks isn't as easy as it used to be.

*I did find a crazy amount of new girlfriends who would have at least gotten a private audition and a call back. I may write about them later.

Penelope's Cast:


Tom Bradford AKA Daddy




Michael Aday or Dave Thomas. My first choice is probably Meatloaf.

Abby Bradford



Toni Collette was actually my inspiration for the recasting. She's very Abby-ish. To me.

David Bradford



Kyle Schmid. Why not?

Mary Bradford



Spencer Grammer. Kelsey's kid.

Joanie Bradford



Amber Marshall. She's a little more Susan than Joanie, but she's old enough, she's my girlfriend, and she played Elizabeth Smart!

Nancy Bradford



Ashley Benson. She has all Nancy's assets.

Elizabeth Bradford



Sarah Ramos. C'mon! She's perfect.

Susan Bradford



Bonnie Wright. I don't know nuthin bout the Harry Potter movies, but she'll do.

Tommy Bradford



Graham Phillips is not terribly Willie Ames-ish, but he did sing on Bat Out of Hell 3.

Nicolas Bradford



His name is Slade Pearce, which is awesome. Kind of a mid-range Nicolas, but I like it.

08: Loved it, Won't Miss it.

Last New Year's Eve, I stared at a couple inches of wine in a glass for an hour, then set it down and decided to never drink again.

And I haven't.

That would end up being one of the smaller changes of the year.

It's been a complicated, wonderful, painful, life-altering 365 days. I wouldn't want to repeat them, but am grateful to have lived them and lived through them.

I have an amazing new/old life in a new/old city with new and old friends.

And a great love, the depth and importance (and challenge) of which I could never have imagined and couldn't begin to describe.

I'm lucky to be living and not just surviving.


09: Fucking Fine.

PF