But More Important Is Lawyer Fees

New career path: twitter repairmanmanman. Woman.

It's really an addiction when I'm over here on Blogger expressing my fear of twitter being down. Seriously, I used to not know what to do when I got that dreaded error message. I took a nap once. Another time, I studied. But throughout both instances, I had a storm of tweets just burning inside me.

I hit send. I get rejected. It's unrequited love.. like someone just won't listen to me! Frustrated isn't the word for it. Incensed. Enraged. Insulted. How DARE you not let me speak my mind.

I plot that whale's death and wonder how the hell those lil blue birds manag to carry him. How the hell. His fat ass has no business on twitter anyway..it's already raggly. Deleted tweets. Vanishing followers. Force-fed friendships (WHY WONT'T YOU LET ME UNFOLLOW HIM still????)

So once it finally revives itself, I, of course go fish (my version of going ham. Should I say I go whale....?) Then a new fear settles in *dramatic music plays*

Twitterjail.

And as it would be if I landed at 201 Poplar (google it if you're not from Memphis), nobody ever bails me out. So I'm stuck, in a sea of tears, knowing these pent up tweets will have consciously disappeared before I am freed...



My name is Kela, and I am a twitter addict.

99 problems..bein a bitch may be one

I've fully convinced myself that if I don't do something soon, I'm going to roll into full-fledged bitch mode. I've romanced the thought that maybe I'm a psychopath (thanks to a riveting episode of House), but I'm not completely devoid of emotion yet. Figured that out when I cried over Cameron getting killed. (Another blog, another day.)

I have, however, established that something is wrong. I no longer get angry at anyone. I don't get excited about or fear anything anything I used to. I've started to simply mimic the emotions of the people around me. If they're pissed off, I'm pissed off. They're in a goofy mood? So am I. It's like I'm walking around on autopilot.. but the people closest to me are captain.

My emotional state isn't my only malleable facet. I'm also starting to shape shift into whatever I think people see me as. I'm being myself; the problem is, I have a lot of selves. If someone sees me as innocent and naive, that's the kk I play. If I think they see me as assertive, I go toe to toe with them on whatever. I'm an asshole to the assholes, and a sweetheart to the ones who send smiley faces after all of their phrases. I AM an asshole and I AM a sweetheart. Problem is I don't know how to be more than just either, to any given person, at any given time.

This is where the bitch thing comes in at. Since I become whatever I'm seen as, there's a manipulative property involved. I'm playing the role into which I'm cast. I may "ad lib" shit into my "lines" that may or may not make the "play" better. I've realized this and been telling myself it's cool because ad libs or no, it's nobody out there like me. I'm interesting. It's not like it takes work to pull off this manipulation. It's glib. (That, plus the emotional imitation, is the definition of psychopathy.) At the expense of being an individual, I've sacrificed doing and saying the things my naturally lame self would. I'm not "trying" to be "cool." A handful of people decided I was, so, thats's the niche I tripped into.

I find manipulation to be fun at first. Making a dude fall for you because you have all the right answers, know the right lyrics, and read the right books is cool. Especially since I just happen to do/have all that. I've never faked anything, just started to hide too much of who I am, deep down.

What I miss is the nerdy Kela. The one who got stank face looks when she was tacky (and really thought it matched.) The one who knew random facts (a golf ball is 1.2 inches in diameter, did you know that?). The Kela who wore glasses and didn't HAVE to have her eyebrows arched. The Kela who didn't like the assholy cute guys with the nice bodies, but rather the geeky,smart guy with a bright future. She didn't curse, and woulda thrown up at one shot of gin. She's still there, under the surface, and even visits when I'm with my family. I want to reintroduce her to the world. The smart mouthed sexy bitch has been sitting in her seat long enough.

lyrical exercise

because that's what talking on the internet i.e. twitter, here, facebook, feel like to me. exercise. bear with me, i cant make fancy grammatical symbols like apostrophes and parentheses. cant make paragraphs either. or capitalize. its not that i dont know how..blogger mobile just wont let me. nazis. anyway, im starting t recognize i have,, thats supposed to be to recognize,, a problem with talking, i mean typing, too much on twitter. im starting to judge peoples worth based on the tweets they fcuk up. callin women sluts because of twitter after dark. needin an attitude adjustment because someone else on there is ranting about haters. the problem is im following mostly memphians, and they all have one vice or another. some are endearing. others are irritating. still others are just plain juvenile and they enrage me. im tryna fix my vice by spilling out my worthless ramble all at once, instead of 140 characters or less at a time (i just figured out how to get the symbols on here. progress already.)