(Here we go again... Stay tuned for the massive profile update, likely over the next week. Hurrah for getting over the pre-surgery blahs! Uh... welcome to the post-surgery blahs? We'll see.)

It's four am again, and this was too old. I swear these get more cynical, the older I get.

I desperately wish to update my profile, but I don't know what to say. I have done some minor tweaking. Fiddled with the least important questions.

What do you say, when you've lost it all? And yes, that's so pathetically trite and emo, and it's also truth. I bled it all away, and I still don't know what I'm left with, though I'm learning.

How can I articulate the aching hole where my words used to be? How frustrating it is to see things in pictures that nobody understands anymore. I used to paint landscapes with my letters, now it's post-modern nonsense. I swear, if you tilt your head forty-five degrees to the right, cross your eyes and stand on one toe, it's beautiful. (Does anyone even get rabbit-ear references anymore, or have I just dated myself?)
How can I properly phrase how lonely I am, and yet how exhausting most of humanity is to me? I am an introvert who desperately needs both social interaction and affirmation, which lends me the misleading appearance of an extrovert. There are a handful of people who have a light enough touch to not bow me down under the sheer weight of their attention. And I am not even being the snob I have rightly been called in the past; it is not a judgement call. The frequency is all wrong, that's all, and I don't have the energy anymore to be kind.

I am a paradox, sitting on both sides of the fence at once and hating both.

I could tell you factoids that mean nothing. I want children, many children, but I am not Christian. I pray to pre-conversion deities who don't pretend to be perfect or all-powerful, yet I have a iron-clad set of morals I have completely failed to live up to. I don't believe in moral relativity, I think it's sloppy thinking. I am a girl, an innocent in an ageing body, looking for someone to guide her, but I am not a slut although I am not monogamous, and I am not a slave and I am not looking for more humiliation. I am looking for a leader, a father/mother, someone who won't spank me to punish me knowing that a punishment I enjoy only confuses me. I could tell you that I'm single, still acting like I'm in committed relationships to people I don't deserve and who failed me, reaping the benefits of neither status, and shackled with the handicaps of both. I could tell you that I once held a nation behind my eyes, though we are down to three, and how much I just want to be around someone sane for a change.

I could tell you my dreams, but I relive them twice a day, and I have, at this moment, small hope that they will ever be more than movie scripts in my head.
I wonder what it would be like to have an ostomy violated? (Edit: Aparently, that's not allowed. Addendum: It probably won't stop me.)

I care for people by cleaning. They care for me by helping me wash my hair when I'm too weak to stand. I am trying to induce enough pity for provincial funding of my disability while resenting not being able to work and resenting the job I have even more.

I am a vile pit of rage. I am mostly successful at masking this.

I have Kids by MGMT stuck on repeat in my head. Sometimes it plays louder than the voices that laugh at me.

You don't want to talk to me. But I have an above average body, and used more words in this than you have the focus to read, so you'll talk to me anyway. I met some of the most important people in my life on here, and so I stay. Also, the tests are mindless fun. Voila.

Learning how to let go and move on.
In conjunction, learning how to appreciate a moment, now that the moments offered don't suck so badly.
Learning how very frightening it is to have your prayers answered. Damned genii.
Learning how to be a responsible adult, and hopefully getting off public assistance for the first time ever.
Trying to learn the difference between healthy, exciting, and unhelpful, in terms of experiences and people.

For archival purposes: Touch. Listening. Seeing under the surface. Conversation (once you get me going). Advice. Surviving.

(I feel I should change these, as they used to be my primary strengths, but at this point I'm so... tired... that I'm not as good at them as I used to be...)

Perseverance. Cutting ties when something is unhealthy. Sarcasm. Parenting. Cynical pragmatism. Singing.

(And again, I like this running history, so...)

Singing yes, apparently still and again. I remembered how to sing out the top of my head again, and gave myself back another octave.
Finding friends. An awful lot of disparate people find their way into my life, and I'm very good at attracting affection from them, usually by giving something very close to unconditional love. (I'm not so good at keeping them, but I try not to hold grudges.)
I am still good at touch. It's an entire language, and I'm well-versed in it. My favourite person right now understands (and talks back when he's happy enough to), and it's one of the reason for the title.
I am still very good at dissecting people. Graphing and cataloguing reactions and motives. (Defence mechanism from an abusive childhood) Simpler people I can have figured out in a conversation. They're boring. If you're one of them, don't bother talking to me, your hot body isn't enough.
Enjoying little things. I have a child's eye for things. I jump in mudpuddles and laugh at my wet skirt. Sitting on the couch holding someone I care for's hand is the best date ever. Fondue at 2am. Blowing bubbles at the grave of a three year old child I never met was also an awesome date. I sing kids songs (or christmas carols) loudly on the street. Blanket tents are always appropriate. Swings. Fireflies. Spontanious road trips. (Dammit I need a car again. Stop your damned strike driver licencing people!)

The scar on my stomach that runs from ribs to crotch (though they can't see that far, I'm not a whore. (unless they ask ;-) )). I'm not ashamed of it because it saved my life, and the four year old in me thinks it's really cool.
When it's too cold for midriff baring things... The hair likely, when I have it down. It's well down my back now, and permanently kinked from the braiding. It's still a little red, but it's mostly washed out, so I'm gonna dye it back again soon.

As a note... I am neither as arrogant or sexual as I come off in person. My public persona trends to be "well-educated two dollar whore), but that's just to cover for 1) having too many guy friends and 2) terrible social anxiety/agoraphobia.

Books: I would give you a list, but they're all currently rotting in the back of my van near the top of a mountain in North Carolina...

Movies: Fight Club, Silent Hill, Donnie Darko, V for Vendetta, Serenity (and Firefly of course, and why is there not a mention for tv? How behind is OKC?), Batman Begins, Boondock Saints, the first two Crow movies, Ten Things I Hate About You, The Italian Job, both original Addam's Family movies... guilty pleasures... The Emperor's New Groove and Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer...
I'm actually very picky about my movies anymore. I don't have the attention span to sit through more than ten minutes without some other sort of stimulation.
Speaking of TV... Dollhouse is God. Seriously. Go. Also, Demetri Martin's Important Things warms my soul and renews my faith in TV as a medium.

Music: *ponders* Do I have any current obsessions? 3 Doors Down, Alanis Morissette, Angels & Airwaves, Arrogant Worms, Barenaked Ladies, Bif Naked, Blue Rodeo, David Usher both during Moist and after, Econoline Crush, Evanescence, Everclear, Finger Eleven, Great Big Sea, Green Day, Hawksley Workman, I Mother Earth, Muse, Our Lady Peace, Placebo, Sarah McLachlan, Smile Empty Soul, Spirit Of The West, The Cure, Three Days Grace, Vertical Horizon, Wide Mouth Mason... Okay, big admission here... Eminem. Deal with it. Many and sundry miscellaneous other songs, anything with a good piano line or lyrics that catch me, or anything that fits with the noise in my head.

Food: I'm a meat and potatoes kind of girl... roasted anything, beef, chicken, venison, though I have some digestive problems which prohibit me from eating anything more "wild" than venison, including turkey for some reason... Casseroles, especially shepard's pie, and a few other's I make very well... Comfort foods from when I was little like Krappy dinner, hotdogs, freezies, butter tarts or peanut chews, jujubes, suckers...

Human contact, both physical and social. Intellectual stimulation. Aural bombardment. My laptop. My enduring strength.

How to think. I'm trying to reprogram my brain, and it's a hard slug. Inertia being what it is and all.
People I'm angry at. It sounds terrible, but I had a lot of rage that I just sat on because I figured it was my fault, and it has to come out somewhere. I think I'm almost done with it though, and might even be able to unblock some people soon. (I still mostly figure if I'm disappointed in you, it's my fault for having not understood you properly enough to have been expecting it. But I'm a lot better about actually expressing that a situation is hurtful, or that I'm angry, out loud.)
Where the hell I'm going to go from here. I may be capable of a fulltime job for the first time in my life. I might be able to do some of the more crazy shit I liked to dream about, like walk across the country, or build a gypsy van and live in it for a year or two, or build a house with my own hands, or be debt free. I could have a career that's more than just "be a good enough housewife to make worthwhile to whatever wo/man that in takes in the pathetic runt instead of getting a real partner".
Kids, and why we've all got so damned selfish about raising them.
The way pretty words can get strung into pretty phrases that loop around my brain like a flute chorus. And why I don't write anymore.
And how it is that I can spend so much time thinking and have nothing to say.

Sleeping, for some reason. To wake up at 2am Saturday morning, really bored. It's not really a system that's working for me.
What I really want to do is go out. But I can't afford cover.

I'm not at all comfortable with my growing attraction to snuff porn.

Also, I am resigned that I'm more likely to end up in another threesome/foursome/orgy before I'll find a partner willing to tie me up. This makes me very sad.

You really shouldn't. I suck at getting back to people, I'm hard to get ahold of and harder to keep track of.
If you don't find this intimidating, go ahead.
Don't bother if you can't/won't make a passing attempt at using english in the manner it deserves, are just looking for a booty call, or are someone who finds a large vocabulary or a penchant for symbolic and/or randomly quasi-poetic language to be pretentious.

Note: Should we ever get chummy enough that we exchange phone numbers, be aware that I have a violent and completely irrational fear of telephones. I may not pick up if you call. I almost definitely will not be capable of calling you, even if I want to. If you do not have the patience to deal with this, or any of my other mental breakages, I won't hold it against you.