♥ Sunrise, Sunset, + Starlight Saturday: The 04.15.2017 Edition, aka: The Intelligence, Reawoken Edition ♥

Published April 15, 2017 by swanielwolfambrosia2010

Resist much, obey little…  -Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, 150th Anniversary Edition (Signet Classics)

Brothers + Sisters:

When I was writing this, my neighbor, a sixty-nine-year-old Vietnam War veteran named George Paul Arthur Hibbard, hit me up for groceries.  I went to his apartment, from where I have the utility dresser in my bedroom, when my uncle, Thomas Wayne Kenerson, helped me clean my room (right now, he’s not angry with me, but with my own mother, whose self-entitlement led her to borrowing my cell phone, because she’s responsible for paying him forty-five dollars, three of which had already been paid for; he doesn’t blame me for trying to be more like the most organized woman in America than my own mother, anyway.  Even though I don’t like him due to the fear of having an emptied out room + replacing everything in my possession [which will take me years of employment to do], I love him with the likes of respect, nevertheless) over a month ago.  I’m just betting my government phone is out of minutes, due to my mother’s extravagant paranoia + excessive spending on herself.  It took me more than 3 hours to come back from the store and from George’s apartment to start from scratch all over again.  Well, anyway…

As I’m listening to Depeche Mode: DNA from Slacker Radio via my government phone, sipping a can of Diet Dr. Pepper Cherry, my dog, Otis James William Smith, is sleeping on my bed by my side, having a perfect night before tomorrow’s church sermon….I doubt I’ll have my MetroPCS phone with me.  What the goddamn motherfucking hell gives, really?  Life may not be fair, but fuck all the negativity.

This week, on the bright side, was filled with excitement + a strikingly attraction to the Deluxe Edition live-action Beauty of the Beast soundtrack due to the need for something more than just explicit lyrics, plus the < 24 hours after it was out in stores everywhere, I picked up Alex & Eliza by Melissa De La Cruz with 2 five-dollar 2017 calendars, and 3 new movies on Wednesday afternoon, before that night’s soundtrack attraction.  Monday, I picked up 4 more books, the tenth anniversary edition American Gods by Neil Gaiman, Misery by Stephen King, Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty, + Carve the Mark by Veronica Roth.  It was fun, yes, even though I got a second-possibly final-warning from my bank to fix myself out of the financial hole I dug myself into.  There goes 3 weeks of my allowance….and my chance to have a new fighting game on my Steam account…..*sigh*  What a heavily damaged life.

PicsArt_04-12-11.38.44

Monday’s haul (left), Wednesday’s haul (middle + right).

The more I think about being broke for three whole weeks, the more stressed out I get.  I’ll find something to do while staying broke for that amount of time because my life isn’t ever worth throwing away, so I’ll be on my best composure in the meantime, with no need to self-blame.  The naked truth’s this:  the party has just ended, Ash.

What I should be doing right now is getting ready for bed in fifty-four minutes, but, the problem is, I forget my medication intake, leading to my excessive retail therapy + anxiety-induced insomnia, leading to my constant yawning, even when alone.  I’ve had failed routines since high school, and it sucks.  Now is the motherfucking time to write down the routine that is right for me and stick to it, no matter what the fuck happens.

After tonight, I’m starting my new era from scratch, and there isn’t anything or anyone to stop me from making myself the best beauty ever.

I’m going to stay up all night because oversleeping is not an option this time.  I’m going to take this opportunity to adjust to life as an actual adult.  Why didn’t I grow up seven years ago, man?  Fuck that; I don’t want to know the answer; just forget it.

I need to realize that self-care is not only eating healthy, but is also forcing myself to get my ass up and shower, wash my face, brush my teeth, wear decent clothing, and just feel the flow, despite the depression, while distracting myself with a future with my boyfriend, James, in his hometown of Oklahoma City, living a perfectly imperfect happily forever after, with humility.  In reality, I can’t stand societal expectations because they’re every villain in every goddamn book I’ll be reading, so why expect the unexpected on the right track?  The answer is simple:  I expect nothing on a daily basis.  I don’t ever have fucking time for fuckery, nor will I ever.  I’m so bored right now.

Either I will or won’t write tomorrow’s blog after church, so I shouldn’t worry about that at all.  I need to add the written tracks to the double header Daily Soundtrack for yesterday + today because I’m a bad bitch with intelligence like no motherfucking other.  If my autism isn’t taken seriously as a benediction, then the problem is the haters’, not mine….and fuck all the narcissist motherfucking assholes, too, for they’re nothing at all but Trump’s shittily brainwashed slaves.  Time for my Adam Levine fringe wrap, thank You, Jesus, because, frankly without You, I would be eternally lost in the sinful path, eternally cursed.

I’m going to get my room cleaned and reorganized before my uncle comes in here throwing my new books and shit out of my room.  You may think I don’t even care, but, the truth is, I get anxious + scared of living without any books or shit whatsoever, making me care about my health + shit.  It’s important to keep my room clean, much more so than watching depressing news from Cheeto the Dumbass + his Veep, Pennywise the Prostitute (fuck them), in other prolific, explicit words.  But, before I start, I have the following final words to say:

First of all:  Since I’m going to be penniless for 3 weeks (without a fucking choice, really), I’ve decided to 1 up my QuizUp skills, starting sometime after I finish picking up after myself to make sure nobody gets me arrested for shit I don’t need to be doing to people, any goddamn way.  Yes, my second Facebook alias, Lancelot Rose Vinci, has an Instagram, (@lelancelotdavinci is my handle, by the way, so look me up, please!) finally!  I’m sorry for not passing the message to you earlier, but, I’m so excited to see that my boyfriend is following me on 3 out of 4 Instagram profiles.  Now that is a huge leap of faith to have accomplished honorably, to be honest.  (@therealashleyangelmorgan [formerly @pikalover2010], @phoenixjeangraydixon, and @theroseashleymorgan are my other three IGs, so please, help yourselves to my badassery in pictures).

Second:  The man in my featured blog photographs is James William Smith, my boyfriend.  His rebellious immaturity is just so illuminating; I hope to visit him either this or next July, once I make the right arrangements.  It’s only a matter of saving money in the meantime between those summers.  When I daydream of him, things get so mindlessly unfinished, as a result of my daydreaming of our future together, but only time and actions will tell if done right enough to stand the test of time, and that’s all I want in life.  His skateboarding is Jackass-influenced.  He is so the perfect rare purple diamond in the rough.  Yes, purple is his favorite color.  He’s so the most beautiful, dreamiest man I’ve ever fallen in love with, respectfully.

Last, but never least:  My bullet journaling for today was more than expected in the past few days out of this week.  Question:  is that progress?  My pensmanship and creativity will be the judge in the nearest future.  I need another 152 Crayola crayons in the second week of May.  That way, I won’t ever lose another crayon again.  It sucks to lose one crayon, but never being able to find it….that’s worse than being hungry from not eating all fucking day, for fuck’s sake, so….

That’s it for today, folks.  I’ll write one early morning post to tell you about my adventures in The Daily Soundtrack, which will have to contain Praise + Worship songs, mainly (you never know, really; neither do I) from playing Spotify on my laptop, and Pandora on my phone before and after the Resurrection sermon, at Destiny Christian Family Center, a nondenominational church.  I love those and the Presbyterian churches because they’re more fun than skirts, ya heard!  Sorry, just got so excited about my graveyard shift, working on Daily Soundtracks, recording audio/visuals of my reading Insomnia by Stephen King, bullet journaling on everything I need to do this coming week, starting tomorrow, His Resurrection.  I’ll be seeing you at midnight tomorrow…if, that is, I’m up at that time; I love you all!

-Artemisia.

Things That Fucking Piss Me Off Tuesday: The 04/10/2017 Edition, also known as: The Grudgeless Road To Adulthood Edition

Published April 11, 2017 by swanielwolfambrosia2010

When life offers you a dream so far beyond your expectations, it’s not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.  -Isabella Marie Swan Cullen, Twilight

Brothers + Sisters:

Before I get to what’s been pissing me off lately, I’m going to get this off my chest once and for all.

After seven years, I’ve decided to forgive myself from the mistake of having a crush on my former high school choir teacher, letting go of the grudge I’ve held against my high school for that same amount of time in the process.  The reason why I decided to do it is too damn obvious:  The crush I had was the worst mistake I ever made in my life.  It’s all my fault, including the grudge.  All I wanted was popularity, which I never got from anyone…..so, you know what?  I’d rather live as Samantha Holmes in 222B Baker Street right now than make my American live a living hell ever again.  The crush, the rejection, the overdoses, the anger towards my high school and him…..it’s been my fucking fault all along.  I ruined myself for one person who has a life still…and now, as I’m failing to hold back tears, I realized that if I ever go to a class of 2010 reunion and he’s there, and I do any violent iota to him, then I would not be here, writing this.  Therefore, I may be unable to go to any 2 class of 2010 reunion because karma has bit me in my ass for that mistake.  Once I make right with myself by getting a job, saving money, making new friends, by just moving on with my life, being just fine without caring about shit, maybe later on in life for the time being will someone read this and say, “I’m happy she moved on; let’s see if she and I can talk again.”  My life isn’t worth bullshit, so I’m done crying and sitting idle, for it’s time for me to grow up.

Now let’s get to what’s been pissing me off lately, other than myself:

The Slaveholders Admisitration has been making me sick to my stomach, so much so that all I want to do is finish my college education, pack up my things, take my dogs, Bernie + Otis, my boyfriend, James, and his dog, move to Canada, live there, never to return again until King Cheeto is dead.  The more I hear of them, the more silent I’ve become.  Ever since the whore got into office, he and his Slaveholding Brohood has made my life a living hell, and my heart colder toward government every second of every day.

I need to do some errands for Grandma, so stay tuned.  -A.

Me, Myself, + Music Monday: 11/28/2016 Edition, aka: The Writer, The Gangsta, + The War of the Chores Edition

Published November 28, 2016 by swanielwolfambrosia2010

The photo collage is from Stephen King’s Twitter page, while the song on repeat is from a 2006 gangster rap album, from my Google Play Music department.  Post no. 89 will be written while I await Episode 67 of Epic Rap Battles of History.

Hey,

I’ve been running around the Northeast area like a zombified chicken with no head all day.  But, now that the running is over (…for now), I’m back at the blog again with some new shit to share from my closet office.  Here goes.

I went to the clinic, picked up my weekly allowance of $50, which was supposed to be spent on 4 Harry Potter movies on DVD at Walgreens after depositing, but here’s what I spent it all on instead:

  • $24 for taking my mom’s Samsung Digital Camera out of the pawn shop
  • $7 for 2 light bulbs for my dolphin lamp, given to me from George, my boss/neighbor
  • $6 for 5 ninety-nine-cent cans Rockstar Pure Zero Mango Orange Passionfruit
  • $12 for 2 music CDs, 5 standup comedy specials, 5 movies, another TV series, and 2 TV shows in the pilot season

Once my mom gives me back my $24, I’m going to Walgreens later on this week with my intention on buying Harry Potters 4 & 5 on DVD for a reasonable price.  Then, next Monday, I’ll be at Walgreens with the intention on buying Harry Potters 6-8, as well, right after paying my cell phone bill on the way there from depositing my $111 into my card.  Nothing said or done can bullshit me from my intentions on getting every last Harry Potter DVD movie, since I already got all 8 books and 3 out of the 8 movies.  When will people fucking learn that, other than bills and rent, my money is motherfucking mine to spend, and mine alone?!  I know they ain’t ever going to fucking learn, period.  People know who I’m talking about.

Have you noticed how my own shit gets delayed later and later than my intentional plans?  People + Choreville are the very fucking reasons why my own shit either gets done later or it never gets done at all, but always delayed like a motherfucker!  Now do you see why I keep my evil tamed?  Now do you see why I can’t be so fucking evil?  Now do you see why that quiet evil, once out, isn’t worth the jail nor the lesbianism I fear worst of any fear in the world?  Blame the demanding motherfuckers who ask way too much.

Now that’s what I call a fucking rant, for real!  Now, all I said before my rant even appeared was that I intend on going to, and buying, every last Harry Potter movie at, Walgreens.  However, I didn’t expect the rant to be out in such interrogative fashion….like Mariska Hartigay/Olivia Benson getting at a retarded motherfucker’s throat, raw and rogue, with serious evil in her eyes.  Holy motherfucking shit.

Anyway, after this gets posted (sorry for my evil in advance), I’ll try my recordings again, this time, with more disciplined clarity.  I will see you all at pre-sunrise.

-Ashley.

Frisky on Fire Friday: 11/25/2016 Edition, Also Known As: The EDM On, World Off Edition

Published November 25, 2016 by swanielwolfambrosia2010

Seventeen days ago, Orange 45 rigged ALL OF US.  Now, two weeks and three days later, reality is hitting the fan harder than usual.

Since overnight Sunday, I got scared with laryngitis.  I haven’t used my voice much throughout the whole week, so I should be up and straight by tomrrow morning….or I’ll end up buying Dimetapp Monday.

James, my boyfriend, had his Facebook hacked yet again.  That was a minor scare, contrasted to the aforementioned.  The Force is telling me he’ll be back on with me in a very short while, so, when he’s back on Facebook, I’m damn sure to be ready….and to be on the refire when he talks to me once again.  *fingers crossed*  It’s the second time this year!

Yesterday was fun…but hectic than a motherfucker.  The cooking was done for me, at least.  Cowboys kicked Redskin ass….and the ending wasn’t too happy, believe me.

Today, I was all over the damn place, yet again not leaving me anytime for me to write any posts or record a vlog episode or nothing.  Wednesday was every fucking failed attempt to do episode 13 of The Archangel Diaries, my vlog, all because of adulting.  All I’m thinking is:  If the motherfucking adulting comes back Sunday morning, and the motherfucker gets me so fucking exhausted from doing whatever people want done, and I sleep with no motherfucking me-time left….except late night……I’m killing motherfuckers!  …and nobody wants that, so I keep my mouth closed and do I as I’m told, because there’s no room for jail in my life.  Sad, I know, but it’s unfortunately true.

Now I’m writing post no. 88, while playing Noisia’s song, Machine Gun, on Spotify, on my laptop, and drinking a 2-liter Diet Dr. Pepper……Poor Justin Guarini….this one’s for Prince….and for Justin Guarini.  *light chuckle/lol*

Here’s the plan for the last thirty-seven days of 2016, as follows:

Starting tonight…or tomorrow….or anytime after church at Destiny Sunday, I’ll retry recording Episode XIII for the Archangel Diaries.  If I make through for just 75% of an hour successfully, then successions will follow.

As for Literature Is Medicine….I had to erase all original recordings, due to adulting taking over the time I needed for myself to read (unfairly blasphemous!), so I’ll start from scratch tonight also…with either A Game of Thrones or The Maze Runner….or something.  If succeeded, then Episode 1 will be reopen for publication via social media.  If not, then y’all will have to wait until Sunday, January 1, 2017, to see Episode 1 Part 1 (hella unfairly blasphemous!).  ….nobody wants that wait, either.

In the meantime, there’s still time to clean my room, remake my bed, wash all, and donate some of, my laundry, take the dogs-and myself-for a walk before the shit gets snowed so badly it won’t be such a godly idea to do so until April, revitalize bookshelves, rearrange the windowpane, and get some sleep at night without anxiety over the time for myself taken away….so, if I’m not on the laptop, its’s because I decided to take my nightly medication and soothe myself to sleep with Kenny G earlier than or by 9 pm tonight, y’all.

I’ll be writing more recipes for my foodie blog on WordPress, as well, starting tomorrow morning, the second I’m awoken, so watch for them, too.

That’s going to be it, for now, of course, but, before I go, I have one last thing to say, and that is:

I’m thankful for ALL OF YOU.  The Cosmos Loves Us All.

So, yeah, I’m done now.  See y’all in the morrow.

-Ashley.

♥ Happiness Hemp Day: 10/5/2016: #TheArtofCleaning > #TheArtofAccusation Edition ♥

Published October 5, 2016 by swanielwolfambrosia2010

Writing this blog is way easier than trying to lure a hard-headed Chihuahua puppy into my bedroom to prevent any distractions from happening.

Brothers + Sisters of the International Social Scene:

Three days ago, we, the American golf team, beat the European Union golf team by 1.5 points to regain the Ryder Cup trophy.  (And, yes, Grandma and I saw it).  That night was the first time I ate a lamb chop in my life.  And, boy, was it delicious.

Two days ago, I bought Jojo Moyes’ novels, Me Before You and After You, and James Dashner’s fifth and final novel of his Maze Runner Series, The Fever Code, at Walmart that night, leading to yesterday’s anger-induced racist rant-filled relapse, after Jackie accused me of stealing money from the gift card Aunt Deborah in HI gave to Mom and Pops, leading to cleaning my room the rest of the day yesterday to prevent me from saying worthless regretful shit to anyone else.  I just didn’t have anymore time nor anymore energy to be angry over my mom owing me a pint of ice cream and 50 bucks.  Let me say that, as an adult, talking back leads to a lot of sadder shit, like being a lesbian for the rest of my life after jail, so I’m glad I didn’t.

I just updated my phone apps.  A couple times, the phone restarted on me when I tried to add Facebook to my micro SD card storage.  But the updates were done, nevertheless.

I have knots in my left hand + in the upper left of my back.  Time to grab the ibuprofen.  There’s 4 left.  Time for another bottle.

I should be writing some more, but, right now, my left hand is acting foolishly, so I’m going to cut this short and try to let my hand relax for the time being.

♥Rosé♥

♥ Smart Start Sunday: 09/25/2016: Football Funk Edition ♥

Published September 25, 2016 by swanielwolfambrosia2010

15 days of absence is better than 358.

Brothers + Sisters of the International Social Scene:

First things first:  Mr. Arnold Palmer, the Golf King, was welcomed into Heaven today at the lovingly tender age of eighty-seven.  I never even thought of writing the heart-wrenchingly sad news on such a post as this, the second post after 2 weeks and 1 day of absence.  I hope this post is worth the thought process.  Now let’s get to the nitty gritty of football, then some other business other than the sports spectrum itself.

Denver walloped the piss out of the Bengals, twenty-nine to seventeen, on NFL on CBS.  Redskins kicked the Giants on NFL on FOX, twenty-nine to twenty-seven.  Buffalo smashed the hell out of the Cardinals also on NFL on FOX, thirty-three to eighteen.  Vikings struck the Panthers on NFL on FOX, as well, twenty-two to ten.

I’ll look up the Cowboys vs. Bears score either later on in the wee hours of Monday, or just tomorrow night.  All I know is moping in coffee is involved.

I chose Victor Cruz and his love from Google Images [photo credit goes to the original website] for the Featured Image of this post.  The image from the last post I wrote is of a beautiful Glock.

I just started bullet journaling three weeks ago today (Sunday, September 4), thanks to an influence on a Marie Claire website article on bullet journaling with a YouTube link from the bullet journal creator himself, Ryder Carroll, and I’ve been catching up on my projects since then.  I skipped a few days, but it’s okay.  I’ll be able to get used to organizing my life back to the newer edition of normalcy with my sons (dogs), Bernie and Otis, eventually.  Everything’s Eventual, after all, right?

As I’m typing this post out, I’m copying audiobooks into my laptop, which, for the most unfortunate part, has less space because of no internal hard drive, on social media, listening to Pandora, Slacker, iHeartRadio, and organizing OneNote 2013 sections.  [Mom just got pissed at Pops again….you don’t want to know why; I’m sorry for the inconvenience.]

This adulthood shit is getting on my fucking nerves, and I’m fucking sick and fucking tired of adults pushing me to the insomniac’s point of no return (as in:  lost sleep due to looking back on past shit and adulting all over the fucking place), so, therefore, if I’m diagnosed with chronic insomnia, please BLAME my mom at every cost for that shit.  I know I’m not alone in the Sleepless department, you know.  A sophisticated redneck like me should not be sleepless in a Greek-style city like El Paso.  My mom’s a complete shithead.  Excuse my French, my siblings.

Plus, I have to go to the bathroom because I have been drinking too many Rockstar Energy Pure Zero Mango Orange Passionfruit.Energy Drinks and 8 bottles Pepsi Cherry Vanilla Cola all fucking week.  Blame that on the adulting factor that has been giving me little to no sleep for the past three days.

Remember Baby Brianna Lopez?  Her deadbeat ass mother got out on 2 years parole Thursday, and karma is sodomizing her ass right now.  The KFOX News at Nine said so.  I never cleared that bitch since I was ten years old, trust me on this one.  I hope the bitch gets her ass shot dead in her own fucking residence so I won’t be thinking about it again.  I am so fucking flabbergastedly disappointed.

I’m fifteen minutes late for bedtime, seventy-five minutes late for my nightly dose of my Abilify.  Too late to turn my ass back now, eh?  I need to prepare myself to give my mother fifty bucks to get her hair did Wednesday [she’s in need of a job herself], and make sure I get evidence that I didn’t spend all the money on anything I pleased.  I wish a motherfucker would try to get me so pissed at her for her greed, which is often.

I’m almost done copying Gone Girl in audiobook CD form.  Next is End of Watch by Stephen King.  Finally, there’s Dark Places by the Gone Girl author, Gillian Flynn, herself.  Here’s to wasting the next seven hours and forty minutes, which I wish to be worth the damn writing shit.

I’ll be up all night.  I have no sleep intentions, so finishing up Twilight (#1) will be the least of my problems.  If you excuse me, I need a bathroom break, so, I’ll have another post coming in an hour and thirty-seven minutes from now, y’all.

♥R.A.M.♥

WTF?: 361 Days Later.

Published September 10, 2016 by swanielwolfambrosia2010

361 days.  What the fuck?!

The reason why I wrote this heading is because life gave me so many fucking lemons it wasn’t so funny at all.  I can’t believe that I put off blogging for that amount of time.  I dont want to remember the bullshit I put people through in 2011.  I’m also lucky for this truth:  As much as I didn’t want to decide 5.5 years ago…  I may never have his trust ever again, but I’m so fucking sorry for having a crush on my own high school choir teacher.  My grandma was so fucking right.  If I were given the choice between doing high school all over again and being in Hell’s Kitchen in CA for dinner….I’d pick Hell’s Kitchen.  Fuck my fantasies of what should’ve happened.  I made my fucking deathbed….I deserve to lie in that motherfucker.  Period.

Now that I let bygones be bygones, I can update.  I started a video blog on my ex-boyfriend’s 24th birthday, the day my current boyfriend, James, broke up with me.  I was so fucking heartbroken.  That breakup didn’t last, however:  Jamesy + I are still together.  The fucked-up part:  He was born 5 months, 1 week, 6 days after me, but that ain’t no big deal.

For my 24th….I got a Chi named Otis.  4 weeks + 1 day before I turned 24.  Sometime after that, in July, a Maltese named Bernie, came into my life.  I’m now a pet parent.  This is a healthier distraction in the course of 5 months, a week and 3 days than the fucking past could ever give me.  Right now, as I’m writing, Otis is sleeping on my lap, while Bernie is sleeping in front of my bedroom door.

I have a job with my 69-year-old neighbor, George, as of my 24th birthday.  It’s great.

Also I started a YouTube reading series, Literature is Medicine.  The current book for the pilot is Twilight by Stephenie Meyer, whose latest book will be out by 11/29.

I’m getting back to the normal before all the bullshit ever happened.  Slowly, but surely.

I can’t think of anything else to write about, so I’m going to sign off for now.

Sincerely, Ash

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