KuntFaceKelly's journals

Today is Friday the 29th, and I don't work!!!!! Just straight up relaxing, doing the day MY way. So I've already showered and put my blueberry bagel in the toaster and am just waiting on it. I think I'll do dishes, get dressed (yes I enjoy lounging around Tim's apartment naked, when he's not here), go down town, make some appointments, listen to some records and hang about the place with Tim. For some reason I really enjoy doing nothing with him. Actually, perhaps i should clean my snake's cage. She isn't quite done shedding but is pretty much there. She's just a baby ball python, I named her Medusa. I originally wanted a greyhound puppy to name Medusa but the apartment isn't big enough for a dog. So I shall wait till we move. Which will be September when I start school. Since I named my snake Medusa I'm going to name my puppy Veruca. No relation to the GG. I just like that name. If it's a boy puppy I'm fucked. Oh yeah! I can't wait. I've had dogs my whole childhood. I grew up on a farm with my mum and step dad. I haven't had one since I was sixteen so I'm pretty anxious, Tim would probably say, obsessive about it. But anyways, bagel just toasted. Later Ladies <3.

Just a little peek into my mind. Which I suppose would be every entry. You can gather what you want and assume whatever. But if you don't ask, You'll never know if your assumptions are correct. Who I am, who you are. Who really knows for sure?


I have studiously tried to avoid using the word madness to describe my actions. Now and again, the word slips out, but I dislike it. Madness is too glamorous a term to convey what happens to most people who are losing their minds (myself included). That word is too exciting, too literary, too interesting in its connotations, to convey the boredom, the slowness, the dreariness, the dampness of my condition. Madness is delightful to the beholder, scary in its way, but still fun to watch, a sport for spectators and rubbernecks who can't avert their eyes from the awefulness that they know they shouldn't be seeing. It's every great moment in rock and roll, and it's probably every great moment in popular culture. The elegance and beauty of Cio-Cio-San as she bleeds to death in Madame Butterfly, or of the double suicide in Romeo and Juliet: That is the domain of madness alone. The word madness allows its users to celebrate the pain of its sufferers, to forget that underneath all the acting-out and quests for fabulousness and fine poetry, there is a person in huge amounts of dull, ugly agony. Why must every literary examination of so many writers and artists, keep perpetuating the notion that their individual pieces of genius were the result of madness? While it may be true that a great deal of art finds its inspiration wellsprung in sorrow, let's not kid ourselves about how much time each of these people wasted and lost by being mired in misery. So many productive hours slipped by as a paralyzing despair took over. No one writes during depressive episodes. If they were manic-depressives, they worked during hypomania, the productive precursor to a manic phase which allows a peak of creative energy to flow; if they were unipolar depressives, they create during their periods of reprive. This is not to say that we should deny sadness it's rightful place among the muses of all art forms, but let's stop calling it madness, let's stop pretending that the feeling itself is interesting. Let's call it depression and admit that it is very bleak. Sure, madness draws crowds, sells tickets, keeps The National Enquirer in business. Yet so many suffer in silence, without anyone knowing, their plight somehow invisible until they adpot the antics of madness which are impossible to ignore. Depression is such an uncharismatic disease, so much the opposite of the lively vibrance that one associates with madness. Now, to sum this up, remember that when you're at the point at which you're doing something as desperate and violent as sticking your head in an oven, it's only because the life that preceded this act felt even worse. Think about living in depression from moment to moment, and know it is not worth any of the great art that comes as it's by-product.


But on that note I am off to my Uncle's funeral. Why do I put myself through funerals? I haven't the slightest idea. I said after my mums', that would be the last but I guess I lied to myself. I'm just tired of crying and having people see me upset. I prefer to be seen as strong but I usually never get what I want anyways. I'm sorry, I'm a downer. But I do some of my best work when I'm down. Bare with me.

So I've applied. I have my fingers crossed. It would be a real honor to be apart of this. Every girl on here I find to be beautiful in her own unique way. Some of my pictures I used in my application I have posted on here, my page. Let me know what you think. Hahaha I'm kinda nervous. I know I'm not the only one but rejection and I don't go too well together. Well I'm calling it a night. Good night my lovely ladies.