Disclaimer: Random fact of complete relevance: I make some awesome cheesecake. Oh, and characters not mine.

Pay my respects to Grace and Virtue
Send my condolences to Good
Give my regards to Soul and Romance,
They always did the best they could
And so long to Devotion
You taught me everything I know
Wave goodbye
Wish me well…
You've gotta let me go
Are we human?
Or are we dancer?

“Human” by The Killers

Disenchanted

By

JD01 (Emerald Lies)

CHAPTER FIVE:

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This is me walking back home.
This is me on the gravelled, uneven sidewalk.
This is me trying not to wince because those pretty shoes kindofreally hurt.
This is me ignoring the pain of the blisters invading my feet, singingburninghurting.
This is me with the purse full of old napkins littered with mindless doodles and Palahniuk's books borrowed from the library.
This is me stealing glances on the windows of the parked car thinking, cogitating, analysing, weighing.
This is me thinking my face is too fat, and my love handles are droopy and my boobs are too small and my thighs are way too hippo~ish and my hair is messy and I look unnattractive.
This is me looking away because it kindofreally hurts to be slapped in the face with my own mediocrity.
This is me shamefully hiding the cup of smoothie that had all that whip cream glazed all over it.
This is me selfconciously rounding my shoulders and biting my lips when pedestrians pass by- they must be thinking "Oh, look at that fat pig gobble up all those calories like she's inhaling oxygen"
This is me staring longingly at those lovey dovey couples strolling through the streets, hand in hand and so in love, and so perfect.
This is me wincing from that stab of a whisper, "I want that too"
This is me looking away, "Will I ever have that?"
This is me, my guts wrenching, "Not pretty enough for love"
This is me, inserting the key in the keyhole, walking back into that familiar hole of doubt and loneliness.
This is me closing the door behind me, shutting the door on all those happyperfectamazing people, shutting the door on the images of everything I could be, but am not and will probably never me.
This is me, not depressed, but just a bit... lostconfusedalone.
This is me.
And this is also you.

You went to Chinatown looking for a cheap watch. But you know, the funny thing about Chinatown is that it's not cheap, right? Like, I mean, you'd expect it to be cheap, right?

But it isn't. It's like real expensive.

And you're like "But this isn't real Rolex! It's a Ro-lex, so like it can't be a Rolex! You think we're stupid, don't you, you damn Chinks! Just cause we're white and you like giggle and point and like talk that damn ching-chang-pow and you think we're real stupid. But we ain't!" And you're like crazy mad. Not just mad. But like, crazy mad. Like rage, man. Your eyes are blazing, and there is this vein on the top of your head that's like uber big and bluish green- not totally green, but not totally blue. Just a nice combination. And this dude passes by, and he's all like "WOAH GUY! GUY! WOAH! Like that thing on your forehead! It's huge! It'll explode man and torpedoe out of this world!"
 
But you don't hear him, because you're real mad at that 'Chink'. But it's not like you're a racist. I mean, fine, you say Chink. But you don't mean it like "dude, we should like rampage your race, i hate you Chink" Chink. You just mean it like, "oups! i'm so used to saying it that I don't really see anything wrong with it. Like woah, it's a nono word? Serious?" Chink.

But then the seller is looking at you. And you're in Chinatown, so it's like real crowded. But then everyone's silent. and they're just staring at you. Even those Asians that like don't get a word of english, cause like you said this big bad word, and then even those Asians that don't get a word of english know what it means. So you're like sweating and bumbling and like trying to explain man that this fake Rolex 'Ro-lex' was like wayyy overpriced, so you got mad and carried away and all vein~y and bumpy foreheaded. But it wasn't your fault. And you see the hate in their eyes, and you're like "woah! shit! i screwed up!" and you're trying to fix the mess.

But there is nothing you can say to like make it all better, cause they're all staring at you with evil eyes and they already have this image of you being like this big hater guy, right? And they're devouring you with their hate, and not a sexual-rawr type of devour, but the i'll-crunch-your-bones-and-you'll-be-in-agony type of devour.

So you slink away, pride all gone and you feel like an ant or something really small and gross. Not that ants are real gross. I mean they can like lift ten times their weight, which is like major muscles and woah! Imagine if you could like lift ten times your weight! Man, your biceps (or like is it triceps?) would be crazy like hard. And big.

So yeah. You're slinking away, and you never got that Rolex watch from Chinatown, and you're like "man, i fucked up so hard".
And like you have some shitty gas station gift for her birthday. Well not really shitty. I mean, TV guide has like these pretty cool interviews and pictures and all that glam. So, you like give it to her and she was really like "I want a Rolex watch!", but she's a kid and she wouldn't even know what's a Rolex anyways! Or like what it looks like! But like you gave her the Tv guide and wrapped in some nice newspaper, you know? But like she looked down, and was like "oh", and not a "OHMYGAWD YAY!" oh, but just a super dejected oh. Like, oh- you ripped my heart apart oh. And she wouldn't look at you. And you were like "you're welcome", cause like what do you say to "oh"? But she wouldn't look at you. And you sat awkwardly on the puke green couch and bit the inside of your cheek, cause that's just what you do. And you felt like someone stabbed you on the inside, and you don't really know why. And, she just wouldn't look at you.

I am not an American Idol fan. I never have been, and I don't see myself ever being one.
American Idol bores me to tears- sure Simon's  comments are somewhat amusing, and Ryan Seacrest is witty and a natural in the spotlight, but the contestants- sure they can sing, sure they're talented- but they all sound the same, they're all so bland and normal, and... i don't know. Idol just bores me to tears...

that is, until Adam Lambert waltzed in and auditioned "Bohemian Rhapsody", and i was getting flashbacks of the glamourous Queen days (ok, so i'm not old enough to have actually lived through the glamour Queen days, but i grew up with Freddie Mercury's flamboyant extravagant voice thundering in the background).

It's amazing how some people just have this... this presence. You can't really explain it, or pinpoint it, or write up a formula to what makes someone just  shine when they walk into a room. Adam Lambert- Adam Lambert has that. He just oozes confidence. He's such an attractive man. And i don't mean just physically, but attractive as in the aura that just seeps right out of his pores, that just makes you want moremoremore. There is just something powerful about him.

In interviews, his little self-assured genuine smile, that humble personality- whether he actually is a nice person in actual everyday life, i do not know- but from short interviews, the boy smiles sweetly and says kind words that sound so genuine, and laughs abashedly and
the boy's got charm and he knows how to work a room. No wonder everyone's falling all over him. From regular fans, to the elderly, to children and middle-aged women, to supersonic stars like Katy Perry, Perez Hilton (yes. perezhilton...), Gene Simmons and the guys from Queen... People just gush all over him... The whole screeching thing is over-the-top for many, but for at the end of the day, i realized what it is about glambert that makes him so glamourous and sensational.

When he performs- whether he's screeching his lungs out at the end of a KISS performance or delivering a beautiful rendition of "Mad World"- Adam's performances just makes me... feel. They're exhilirating, and they make me feel happy and get pumped up and make my heart hum and  shrieking for more and my skin erupts in goosebumps, and my mum cracks a smile... and his performance has this way of putting people in a good mood.

And apparently, even babies agree.

Yesterday my lovely/wonderful/oozing of awesome soulmate, ttwistedtruthsent me a link to this eljay community where asexuals around the world unite in bliss and prance around gaily.

They even link you to this section of general FAQs concerning Asexuality. Go ahead, click on it. It's actually (surprisingly, despite soulmate's eternal mockery) pretty welll nuanced and informative. For anyone who has ever been curious about asexuality. I actually found it enlightening and helpful. Maybe it'll help you better understand asexuality?

My favorite question?
I masturbate. What do you make of that?
What do I make of that? That you are very open about your sexual exploits. Yes, indeed.

Or, even better.
I think asexuality is inherently queer. Do you agree?
U-umm. WHAT? WHAT???? Ahahahahhahahahahahahhaa.
Of course, if anyone bothers to read the answer understands what he/she meant by "queer". Nevertheless, I enjoyed gagging on my tea at five am yesterday out of unabashed amusement.

It's an interesting community to say the least... yet I can't help but feel like some in-denial-alcoholic who believes he/she choses to get shit-faced 24/7 infiltrating an AA support group, and feeling all at once out-of-place and then realizing with utter horror that he/she is just like all the rest of those alcoholics with their sob stories.
I mean... the posts littering this community is priceless.
"HI. I'M X.
I FOUND OUT I WAS FIRST ASEXUAL WHEN ..."
or
"HI. I'M X.
MY FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH ASEXUALITY WAS WHEN..."
And the worse part was when I could relate. Oh my. Oh my.

And there is something unsettling about how everyonein this community just separates and lumps people into two categories.
"There are the Sexual beings, and then there are the Asexual beings. Asexuals are not better or worse than sexual people, we're just different"
So. we're different. Oh, haha. why do i feel diseased at this moment?

And the best news? They have porn.
PG.  Porn. which at first, to my utter horror thought it meant kiddie porn
P fucking G porn.
"For those who like everything about porn, except the sex" because, of course, people who watch porn hate sex
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

The brother had disappeared from the radar yet again a month ago, shortly after  he suddenly and inexplicably broke off his engagement. It has become such a pattern- the random disappearances, the sudden spastic decisions, the mania, the incoherence and drama that seems to whirl around the creepy brother... yet, it still gets to my mother everytime- I think it's the not knowing. sometimes she get this mad airy contorted look on her face, probably imagining the worse, driving herself crazy with worry- which probably explains why she wasn't  upset when my phone started shrieking at 4 A.M., or well she stopped bitching at me when she violently grabbed the phone and heard my brother was on the other end. Apparently, he was in Jamaica. And apparently, he is having a ball- very pertinent imformation, really, but do you have to wake me up at 4 am the day i have a damn physics midterm? I honestly do not know how his work allows him to waltz off at any given moment- but it seems like nobody can resist his creepy charms. Especially my mum- worry and anger flown out of the window. 
 

I went to pick him up at the airport during my 4 hour break and we ended up having lunch at Chinatown. A little stubble, a subtle Jamaican accent, but aside from that, nothing else has changed. The same calm, creepy insincere smile, the same awkward silences and the complete refusal to give straight answers to any question.  God damn him. Sometimes, it feels like everything is just such a big joke for him, and his complete disregard for my mum's feelings drives me awol. His complete disregard for my feelings... I'm not a crier. I don't do crying. I don't do sentimentality, aside from the occasional penchant for sappiness. But damn it, it is not fun wondering whether your brother will end up a corpse halfway across the world. We've never had a very strong relationship. We bicker, we fight, and sometimes they get really ugly. But it's always been the two of us... and now it's just... not the same. So after about three and a half hour of small talk that makes my stomach churn, i finally confronted him. Confrontations suck. I hate confrontations, but they're much better than pretending. I would punch him in the face, but that would probably just end up worse for me. Gah. I'm too weak. And the creepy smile was gone.

 

A month without any news at all, without any sign of being alive. What a gigantic idiot. He's a creepy bastard, and I hate him.
or actually: He's a creepy bastard, and I wish I could hate him. or rather: I wish I could fix the world for him, stop him from hurting, stop the world from hurting him, from breaking his heart. i wish I could keep Depression from taking my brother from me.

 

P.S. Also, bubble tea is pretty insanely addictive.
P.P.S physics is love.
P.P.P.S disenchanted chapter five is killing me
 

 

Midway between
mental note 1) quit stalking people's eljays
mental note 2) god dammit. study. STUDY. STUUUUDYYY.

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me!"
2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will post the answers to the questions (and the questions themselves) on your blog or journal.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. And thus the endless cycle of the meme goes on and on and on and on...
And here are the questions grilling torture that i must answer courtesy ofkodak_85

( Just a bundle of bore, really )