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.
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!