What I'm Doing

I had 2 pieces of French bread pizza and grapefruit juice and water.

I'm cooking a pretty big piece of beef and spinach and mushrooms I found in the refrigerator, which is what I liked to buy and my mom got for me.

I'm also cooking eggs to make egg salad sandwich.

My grandma gave us the Christmas candy and several gingerbread cookies.  I had a buckeye, a piece of peanut butter fudge (no chocolate, I think,) and one of the cookies with marshmallows, which I best liked,for once.  I was wondering in New Orleans to me it seemed the thing was to be like spicy and of the old-fashioned based heritage that's become vintage and takes over the civilization, which is very rather sedentary.  I guess moving can be a big deal.  So, I kinda grew up more strict and modern in a sense, not about baking cookies and not really making any fudge.  It's probably because my mom's not American and something else.  My dad liked things like peanut butter cookies.  His dad drank a lot so probably wasn't a cookie guy, not from a farm and had a college degree to be a funeral director who did everything, I think.  I know he liked Edgar Allan Poe and that my dad has read lots of other like science fiction type philosophy seeming themed interest books.  As far as I know, his dad is all white, but I found that most people have Jewish last names from the Germany area.  It seems like a big deal that my grandma's mom wasn't indian.  She wasn't even always sure she was indian.  Supposedly, the records burned down in a building.

So, I'm gonna watch "The Ellen DeGeneres Show."  I have 3 episodes to catch up on.  I was thinking of watching today's 1st, in case I don't get to the day before, I guess, not sure which is better, this time.  The other 1 I don't have recorded because we got a new TV thing.  So, I should watch the videos online and think I happened to see 1 or 2 from her Twitter.

Food

What should I do?  My dad won't bring me home fancy restaurant food, like Olive Garden or Applebee's.  Also, when I went out to eat with him at Perkins, he made me stimulated or aroused but not feel like a tingly feeling in my stomach and tried associating it with a waitress.  He also believes if an idea ticks that it's, like, absolutely something true.  I haven't eaten at a fancy restaurant in a long time.  I've been eating alone, got tired of soup and Tyson's chicken strips.  I've been getting subs and fast food.  At home, I have my beef and cooked greens.  I don't like peppers, onions, tomatos, etc.  I won't eat them, unless they were chopped up into tiny bits and mixed with bread or something like that.  I even stopped putting spice on it.  My parents eat weirdly, weird simple Asian-based food that is kinda unhealthy and not very tasty or some fancy fix-up with sorta just more hot spices and maybe some kinda juicy sauce.  I never eat with them, anymore.  They usually just have chicken and often have rice.  I started eating like this because I had such a good time at Cracker Barrel.  Once, my dad was rude to me and I got mad.  It sounded like 1 guy suddenly said, "nigger."  I was getting tired of just Olive Garden and Cracker Barrel.

So, it sounds like some people want to know if I liked what my mom cooked when I was little, when she's Asian and the good stuff isn't sold here.  I did eat things like Pizza Lunchables, maybe twice a week, funny on top of pizza on Fridays at that school.  My mom didn't like engage me in picking out food at the grocery store, and I learned what people at a long time ago in the U.S.  I can't believe how you|anyone would actually went|go into what my dad ate.  Yea, he's from a farming area, but they don't eat the kind of stuff you eat in the West|Midwest.  Their food seems thin.  I guess moving to the New Orleans area, my appetite increased.  It's funny, though, his family is from Northwestern Pennsylvania.  I think that my grandma has always made good candy, Buckeyes, chocolate fudge, peanut butter fudge, these things of a compilation with marshmallows like fudgy cookies, and oatmeal cookies, which lots of people have made.  It is about the best I've tasted, had a good homemade taste.  Speaking of my grandma, it seems people say that I'm not good as a suggestion but never say why and the reason is never clear.  My parents think I don't have total attitude control and that it doesn't matter if people are mean to me.  I don't really know what it's like to get mad at other people having your food.  I think Italy has good ice cream shops.  In Florida, I guess the food is kinda made to be satisfying yet trashy in a lot of ways but not like infested with maggots.  I think Ellen DeGeneres gets mad at me for growing up in Southeastern and Northeastern Florida until I turned 12 because I'm really tight, realy tightly built and compact, in a way that is not necessary but sorta the arsenal I have in life, unnecessary in that my life isn't complete.  That may not make sense, but you may not really know.  I mean, if you did, you could tell me.  I can't really fix things like that that sound good.  Well, the restaurants are a bit, er, ... what's the word ... vengeful.  I guess the food is fine at the fancy restaurants.

Part of the thing is I thought it'd be cool "not to cook."

A Common Notion

A common notion is that people who are born somewhere have the right to say they're from there, if they grow up there until they're a mature age, like 8 or 9 or 10.  It's more like a choice.  It's too bad people don't have a choice if they more there after like age 5, even a problem I guess for some who are younger moving to L.A., probably problems even if they were born after..

The Wealthy

I took a cruise in Fort Lauderdale and saw the mansions.  I'm guessing those people could some be from Florida, from there or Miami, probably.

So, I looked at a photo of a mansion in Key West by the ocean.  It had a pool with the lawn chairs set up.  Too bad people would just say oh well everyone can't live there, how were we supposed to know.  Guessing that family isn't from there.  I saw a black and white photo, too.  Guessing those people are ghosts, now.

My aunt's husband is from Miami, and I not too long ago found his parents are from Cleveland.  I don't know where he was born.  He has it together.  They go on vacations, a lot.  He became an army colonel.  He's pretty tall, an average size, drinks beer.

It seems like people with families from New Orleans.

Problem

So, Johnny Depp moved to Florida at 7, supposedly, and so did some people I knew, at least 2 but I think more.  I know someone else at 9.  I bunch them together, for some reason.  Well, it was a certain area of Florida, the oldest continuing city in the U.S.  The family who moved later aren't very substantial, anymore.  Guess they lost their appetite and their dad.  I knew she used to eat in her room at a young age.  Not very good food.  She had good breakfast.  I mean it was tasty but not to my liking.  I think for me they had fried chicken.  My mom made that a lot, for some reason, I mean got at the grocery store.  I remember someone who moved at 11 and probably more but people who moved schools.  I know someone who moved somewhere else at 15.  No one is doing well, in these places, like people from California.  I have a cousin, but I don't think I can count her because she's related to me.  Also, she's very different.  She's different in the same way as my brother, both about the same age, her a year younger, same month even.  I have the feeling my cousin held onto her mom being from Pennsylvania.  She does seem foreign but is accepted in the family, in that way.  In Orlando, there are more people open about growing up here.  I was surprised to see an old politician from here.  Well, I don't know about people from out-of-the-U.S.  I guess it's just that.  Still, there's something else special about being from a certain place.  There's my brother.  For some reason, it seems worse for him, too.  Maybe it's also his birth year.  You can guess that Latinos are known to preserve their culture, though they seem to infiltrate, the rich ones or the skinny ones with straight hair.

Problem

My dad seems to have gotten quite mad, forgot what he said.  Not really.  He went to see my therapist, and I stayed home.  I think she talked to him about my blog.  I already invited him to go comment.  I'm supposed to usher him to it or whatever.  He seems to be sorta boastful or what's the word, puffing out his chest, proud of his mom's antics after the n word thing, like thinking "her son" is important and he needs to hurt me since my life is getting better.

Also, why is Tim Burton such a scardy cat?  I thought cool people from L.A. were stronger.  That is so suggestive, you know?  I read, also, though, that his parents came from Canada.  You have to watch out for people from Canada and Latin America.  Sometimes, people think this of Australia or maybe like definitely the Filipins.. they went on rattled on about how it was like I forget no unreal and 3rd world.

It was a safehouse for Hispanics, I guess mixed people.  Lots of mixed people are in Australia, Texas, and L.A. and California.  NYC.  I know of at least 1 more white Asian in NYC.

I'm upset because my dad seems upset that people from Florida never liked him.  He's bad.  He treated me badly for things I did.  It wasn't anything like concrete nor blunt nor like very bad very often you'd concur from me, in the end.  It seems like my relationship with Florida went down the drain.  So, what do you think about Elle Fanning living in L.A.?  It's a safehouse for actors.  I don't know if I wanna count her, anymore.  She moved at age 1 and seems conceited about Georgian heritage but despises it just to think it's cool and now looks kinda sad.  Maybe, she'll get better.  I think she's trying to look different and has been going through too many changes.

Dreams

Right now, I'm thinking of the 2nd 1.  I guess I'll go into a part where someone was kinda in it, Ellen DeGeneres, but I was trying to imagine someone carrying me and someone putting their hand around me.  So, 1st, I imagined like for awhile sometime that someone was carrying me at my butt to their hip.  Stuff like that, like how my legs were actually short and my torso was shorter, something I never thought about, like thought about about nor maybe totally noticed.  Then I imagined I was walking and a someone I was able to make up between 3 people was putting her arm around me to like my elbow for awhile, was a but sappy and then their other hand like over the front of me in places.  At 1 point, I was even imagining in a prior dream, that I was being rubbed but stopped, maybe my stomach.  I'm not sure why, but I liked to lie in bed and feather over my legs in my sleep.  So, in the 2nd dream, I was like in a dangerous land of like Pokémon.  We went into a nursing station with girls at a desk working and someone showed me, put a needle in my hand to let me feel it was fun, like it made my hand feel caring.  Then, they did it in another way again maybe in the other hand.  I contended, thinking, I had other interests, rather than other thoughts that passed me.  It had become dangerous to press against glass.  There was a little zebra, and there were some scary crocodilians.  1 was just with a little fence of rocks on a platform, and it was jutting out, wanting to jump down.  I told them the zebra was in danger.  A more boyish character girl came out with a little tubular rifle and shot out like a bomb bullet and supposedly accidentally hit the zebra, who turned into in some communication a human, like walking with sneakers, like it had dressed up, and its elbow was hit.  Before, I saw a painting with some lady artists in a little tent booth doing art of pinkish zebras and then dolphins with pink tints and a lady would make like a smaller 1 for $10.  I think the big 1 I looked at of dolphins was like $78 or maybe $48 but I think more like $80.  Then, I was like in a dance hall going around.  I guess I was lying down.  Then, I got up with 2 tall, more big girls, from the New Orleans area.  I was thinking of my hight, meditating on it.  It was what it was, 5'1" to 5'4", more short then and kinda made fun of as people seemed to seep in their sleeping bags.  I was being judged, like it was a phantasmagoria with like drums beating in the back, too.  So, I stretched up and found ooh 5'5" ... 5'6"?  So, I went up to a lady in dark lying on the floor on a stage in front with a headband I was twirling around, after a girl from that area who did a lot of dance did something with me.  I said, look, I'm 5'6", or something like that.  The person was like good.  Oh yes, that was Ellen DeGeneres, but it didn't look much like her.  However, I could still dip to 5'1", and I wasn't sure what to do ... as I lay down with a girl, before, I guess, a big girl, I was thinking well I'm still 11, not sure why, so that's why I'm 5'1", which I'm supposed to not be that big, still.  So, before that, we were like traveling, and there was this shower and I was stimulating myself a few times like across the floor.  I was thinking of how Ellen DeGeneres was stimulated "in the same way."  Some people were like coming.  It was like a bath stall or hotel.  So, I was stimulating myself not just in that way.  At 1 point, my dad came in and I was holding a towel, and I left.  Then, this was before the other dream, like we were on a ledge, and my dad was like this is a city, and I almost fell off a cliff corner of sand.  I don't remember what happened next, but it was dangerous.  There was a dream before this 1, too.  Now, I remember, also, at the nursing station, they were gonna give people shots but I guess not me for safety like in a physical defense somehow.  My mom asked if it would explode.  The nurse inserted a shot into her arm, and a long tube of blood filled and a bubble popped at the end.  I spent quite awhile wanting to feel like someone was carrying me, I guess been latching onto how I used to beg my mom to carry me when I was 2 and 3.  I guess it was like feeding birds trying to get that feeling.  Like, sometimes, I had to often base it more on seeing something, though.  I saw it like in pieces, of course, in a complex way, that I probably use, often.  In music, though, I tend to also hear things in pieces, whereas, before, I didn't and was always very bewildered, until maybe a specific song seeped in or I had listened to too much, though I don't remember the songs specifically to their experiences.  I wish I remembered more.  I saved a more happy scene for my Twitter background, a cartoon.  It was kinda dangerous and complicated.  I had about 5 folders, and some were serious, like rocky people.  Also, lately, I've been more stung to not experience a sorta rebuttle of feelings, from watching Ellen DeGeneres, and am thinking something is wrong.  I mean, just more today, I thought that.  I wish I wouldn't have to think something the opposite of what I'm feeling when I'm embarrassed, though.  I just measured myself, too, and I'm, roughly up to 5'5", meaning the average juts there when I stretch my heels down.

I feel alive

I feel alive like in the New Orleans area but not as weighted down when I got busy.  Maybe, I need to ask my dad for money and use my allowance of $190 to get food out at night for hm ... well, the grocery store probably sells grapefruit juice, so possibly $5 a night.  Maybe, I'll tire of getting a dessert, but possibly not, and a cold grapefruit juice is nice, now.  So, that's $9.  At a fast food restaurant, I'd spend maybe around $7.  That's not bad, $224 a month.  Hopefully, I'll start cooking soon, though.  I wanted to get some sweaters at Wal-Mart but don't have to and will probably see new clothes later, maybe even shouldn't have thought I needed that other shirt, not sure if I'll buy more later though.

Problem

Didn't I already make a blog post, buried somewhere... anyway, no one responds to this in my life.  I don't know about categorizing things like this.  So, I got mad, locked in my room, because of New Orleans and then Orlando, after Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, felt totally tortured, and e-mailed people nicely.  My dad rattled on that I called them niggers, like it mattered..  I think, 1st, someone stopped, or maybe it was someone else.  Well, I think, then, I got mad at a girl, but she was acting racist.  I know it's improper, and I wanted her to talk to me more.  I don't remember what I said, but I didn't say, "You're a nigger," or, "I'm gonna *beep* you."  I used to write more very, very detailed.

Oh, and no one would admit she was really being racist.  It was very contrived.  You know, they just rattle on about morals and being white, and they're part Native American indian, like Johnny Depp.  I might be.  Wow, but they don't really mean it but will rattle on more.  They're like balloon heads.  I don't think this is the right way to talk about something, but I guess we should have started writing sooner.

I don't know what about Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory directed by Tim Burton strikes a nerve with you.  You're gonna have to be taken in and realize this is your problem and that I don't approve of this problem, which I see in everyone I meet very strongly.  You'll just have to get out of my life, in this way.  Help!  Someone do something.  The police aren't listening.  They're invading me with messages.

Problem

So, non-Floridians want me to be subject to only Floridian treatment.

Problem

Everyone in Florida is acting like I'm not from here, my grandma.  No one will listen to me.

Also, I am a physical person without the non-Floridian base.

Think about Johnny Depp.

Dreams

The 2nd 1 I remember well now.  What made it interesting is that I was at a school.  I'm not sure why I dreamed someone was carrying me like a kid, again.  It was a lady.  So, it was like, I think in both dreams, you go behind the scenes of a school and it's like a big maze with chairs and stuff around and it's really dark.  Supposedly, it's dangerous.  I guess it was interesting, I knew I was really buried in my bed, and I thought of another hand that was more with bones jutting out, but like rounded, and it turned out it was my hand.  I touched my lips, and I guess I was more physical than I really am, and it was like when you put your hand on someone's mouth, except I was putting my fingers around my lips and thinking of how it would stimulate you, like to make "me" feel better, in attempts to prevent me from letting out a noise.  Otherwise the lady would have pressed my mouth against just below her shoulders.  I guess I thought that my butt was being pressed.

In the dream before, a lady came and 1st contended to someone older and then came up to me, and when she pressed my crotch it was stimulating, like kinda feminine, like fairy-like, and somewhere else.

I know in the last dream, it was like about graduating and going to these shops, 1 small and later a huge 1 of food, like a Super Wal-Mart, though it wasn't a smorgasbord.  I was with my grandma and little brother.  I told my mom I wanted donuts, I think.  I was with a man and black lady with these like sweet biscuits or whatever with colored cream on them and sprinkles.  Like, a more big wooden display.

I don't remember the trek with my friends and peers.  I know we had to walk around places, a maze, in the back, and we found where we came from, thought it was like a little bobsled road but for cars.  Like, we ran into it and had to use it to get to the path.  It was white and kinda like sweet like candy.  The maze was rather long and laborious to cross and not all easily laid out.

I guess the most interesting part was the person holding me.  So, the 1st person was really just a person, but it was like Ellen DeGeneres.  I'm sure thinking of her a lot in my sleep for like a few minutes at a time.  The 2nd person was Aunt 2 with my grandma.  30

So, you get the picture, when I was in the maze with a person carrying me, I guess it interests me in life.. I don't know if it's because my mom is shorter.  I mean, I think everyone is interested.  I guess they just are too busy and don't really get like that sorta feeling of wanting people to be sorry for them or feeling sorry or something like that.  I went out to 711 last night, and the girl at the register, since my nails weren't painted, scanned that "I was" shy, like here we're all kinda in a group, different than other places, which is interesting, not like any 1 other place.  I mean, it's Florida.  Then, she slammed a loud noise at my change.  I had to shift gears.  I guess I'm being spotted and felt for in this area.  It just feels like that's the way things go.  It's hard to understand that, posting online all the time, like.

So, about being carried in a dark room, I guess it was circumstantial.  It was kinda dangerous.  I think, I was supposedly like "little" or "small," feeling how I am, though.  So, it's like you're in this place that's like feasible technically but like has issues and you're being like protected in a kinda strict way but also like being touched and I guess you have to come to accept it.  I know that exercising in your life helps.  I'm guessing that doing arts also helps.  Posting online gives you cyber***.  I'm not sure I quite knock on that.  I'm not sure how most people feel, but I know, here in Orlando, we feel  or I feel kinda like I'm a tube with gel floating in it.  Before, I used to maybe feel my bones.  I'd feel the muscle growing on my forearms.  Like, I'd feel it a little and want to feel it more.  I guess I learned from different women I knew how to feel.  In college, I don't remember as many of those kinds of women.  At Arts school in New Orleans, we had this teacher who looked kinda both smart and attractive and not too thin.  I thought she woke up and took jazz each morning, didn't think too much what it was like to do at home but probably was thinking about aspects of it I'm not remembering now.  She had this resounding voice.  She had fluffy, like wavy and kinda more course light, more reddish yellowish brown hair.  Well, you get the picture.  She had a more fluffy face.  I think she spoke to me once, and I got everything right.  I guess we were in a group, and she said not to be shy.  I don't think people at this place were touching people.  It was a summer session, and me and another girl I played a piano duet with got the highest award.  I also went on Saturdays and was the oldest.  This was my last year.  There were no awards.  She was supposed to come to the college I was at, a prestigious school for music that is not quite as alluring now, I think my 3rd year, when I left and wasn't even in music.  She was a composer and went up to maybe Canada to "just compose," which makes sense, in a group.  I was about to be a Composition major and tried to get in Voice.  I was unaccepted and came back as a Music Education major and didn't audition for Voice and was kicked out of Voice for being shy, for some reason, at the end of the year, as well as out of Music Education.  I started a class since another was taken and then switched to 2 Honors level 2 classes.

Problem

I know that my eyes kinda turned off when I got glasses.  I was feeling pressured a lot for my race and because my dad was not like a wild man and my mom had dark, reddish eyes.  Anyway, I was the best in gymnastics but not on a team but seemed to move up often for some reason and did art since I was 3 or possibly "2."  I was considered artistic all the time.  But then I got glasses but still was a good artist considerably, though when my vision got worse and I moved I guess things looked kinda like I drank coffee.  When my glasses are off and I look at the screen, the colors appear real, like it's still the 90s.  The good thing is I can actually function without glasses, and things don't look blurry in the dark.  I know things weren't blurry before I took the medication.  It might have gotten blurry after I came back from school and we had to move to a house quickly to avoid the constant noise.  I know sometimes things appear blurry but I just feel for my eyes and it becomes corrected.  So, I can actually see, but I can really pressure my eyes.  I need to film my eyes up close.  They're kinda like I guess 90s eyes but have a kinda fuzzy feel of protection, for some reason.  But, no, if I went outside, I would not be able to see things clearly.

711

There was a guy with a very typical but not too like specifically characterized homeless smell, that reminded me of my own smelly situation.  Some girls working there also sounded like they said something was rotting flesh.  One of them sang a kinda hip or spunky tune, and it was pretty good.  (Something just fell over.)  There was a girl shorter than me with PJ pants who was cute and walked behind me, kinda nostalgically, maybe dark-medium brown hair bunched up in the back, straight and smooth.  So, I had a sub with pickes, grapefruit juice, and sour gummies which weren't very sour.

My Experience in Orlando 6|7 Years

So, something interesting is I thought I was an experiment and everyone knew about me.

In the end, I thought that people weren't real and stopped communicating to me altogether for maybe a few years if I count.

Then, I wonder even if people think about me, at all.  I always feel they're talking.  So, I went to Southeastern Florida, and the cars there seemed to speak, as well.  I haven't been out to see if people knew about me more specifically, at sight.  It is amazing going along the road here with all the cars roaring back, with your ear plugs, thinking they're all talking, saying something.  Since majoring in music and the experiment, I think every sound is like a word.  So, that's over 5 years.  Also, in bed, I heard a real sound.  I assume it was planted in me, like influenced, and it could have been real.  It sounded other-worldly, 1 sound, like a figment dragon.  I was feeling dead, like I was nothing, from seeing The Hobbit.  I even wonder if some of the people were talking to some people who knew about me.  So, I saw other movies, like The Expendables ... 3? and I mean that was different, I think.  I just think that people used to be really racist.  Well, they still are difficult.

Well, all people here seem to know about me is thoughts of my future daughter and maybe son and like what I'm doing, like am I watching "The Ellen DeGeneres Show."  It seems to travel around the store.  It's quite natural.  Well, the people here are pretty crazy, in my opinion.  I have a way of thinking of what people are literally doing.  I guess you could almost say people seem to turn to monsters.  Well, before, seeing from my early blogs, 2010, they seemed pretty mean, the cars going by were all racist, but I got used to it staying here longer.  I could barely make out words, at that point.  It was kinda like sorta like a miracle but seemed hard and a bit like taxing.  I would quickly write it down.  Now, I have a noisemaker and earplugs.  xp  Tired going back to bed I think.  I've been waking up a little crazy since hitting my head.  I know that can kill you.

Problem

Ellen DeGeneres is annoying.  She's participating in torturing me in private and then ranting on about how she's doing me a favor by being older.

Also, she's trying to say she has heritage where she's from and I don't, that because of where my dad is from I can't enjoy the benefits of what I've done.

Problem

Can you believe I still didn't clean?  Looks like Ellen is quite different from me as far as where she's from, which I know is what makes you who you are, but I don't think she believes that and look she has a problem with it.

Problem

So, Ellen is bad, going back on logic of where she's from.  It looks as though she didn't put her best food forward, morally.

Problem

So, Ellen DeGeneres coming from a backwards culture, she doesn't want to give to others.  Well, I don't know what that's like.

Problem

STOP THESE MESSAGES I DON'T GIVE A *BEEP* ABOUT YOU

I don't care about Helena Bonham Carter.  I should have a relationship with my mom when I see her.  She's just afraid because she thinks being from out of the U.S. is all that and she's mixed.