Treatment #9 Monday, December 29, 2014
Ninth treatment of sixteen. I can do this!
::Socially Yours::
::Click, Drop & Roll::

300 Drops In Minutes

Blog Grade for www.comatised.com
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IComLeavWe: Join the Conversation

NaBloPoMo November 2013

::Rings ‘N’ Things::

Dangling Conversations

I started my blog on June 4, 2000 at 7:34pm out of sheer boredom and after encouragement from friends, being fed that I was a good writer with a story that needed to be told to the world, and the world-wide-web was the answer I had been searching for since I was thirteen. I was nineteen years old and I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into. I could not do the simplest HTML commands and my life as a college sophomore, applying for nursing school that summer, was incredibly boring.

Nearly ten years later, pretty much all that has changed is my age.

I do this because I love to write and I especially love to write for an audience, though when I blog it’s usually crappy writing. I don’t pour my heart and soul into writing anymore. I have become jaded by the liars and weirdos of the internet. Writing was and is my passion and has been since I was twelve years old. It was once the way I was going to support myself. Words flow easy for me with a pen and paper or a keyboard and a screen.

Some people have asked me if Jamie is my real name. Yes and no. It is what I sign when I pay my bills. It is what I put on my school papers. It is not what’s on my credit card, birth certificate, or my marriage license. It is what my husband, my friends, my family, and some professors in college call me. It’s on my RN badge. My first name is incredibly unique and teamed with my last name, should anyone Google me, they’d find my webpage. Let’s face it: I like writing for an audience that I don’t have to physically face the next day.

I share this blog with my friend Matt. He’s almost the only person I know in real life who knows about this site and who is behind it. During the fall ’09 semester, I accidentally emailed one of my professors from my email address here, but I don’t think he visits my page anymore, or if he even got the email–he never replied to me.

I don’t like to be photographed. I hate having my picture taken. This stems from being told that I was ugly as a little girl. My husband says I’m beautiful, but he has to; I fix his meals and know where the cyanide is kept and how to plead ‘insanity by reason of emotional trauma’ wash his laundry and know what soaps he gets hives from. If you’re desperate to see my face, add me on Flickr then after I’ve added you back, click around in the “Photographies de moi” Set. Those are all pictures of me. I’m not responsible for any blindness acquired while viewing those photos.

There are other reasons I’m not a cam whore: I want to be known for my words, not my face. There was an incident when I was 21 involving a man re-distributing my photos as a fictional character he created for attention on the web. There was a ton of drama. Words were posted. Flames were thrown. It’s over now. Don’t get me started on it. Some people have told me it’s a sign that I’m gorgeous, if some man pretended I was his wife for four years on the internet. I don’t see it that way, though.

I speak French/Creole and English fluently. I sometimes write in French to make Matt mad because he can’t read my entries then. *smiles*

I don’t enjoy long walks on the beach, unless you want to pull me in a wagon. I have back, knee, leg and foot issues from an accident I was in when I was 23. Some days it bothers me, some days it does not. Usually it does. My doctor got wise to my constant pain and begging for narcotics, and he stopped prescribing them for me. I’m currently in search of a new doctor. Or a dealer. Which ever. I do enjoy the ocean, though. I could watch it for hours, if I had the sunblock to keep me from frying.

I do love Yankee Candles, Hank Hill, South Park, fatty foods, candy, and other things that are essentially bad for my health, both physically and spiritually.

I hate science classes, yet I’m a science major. Physical science. In high school I used to skip biology to go smoke in the church parking lot next to the high school. I don’t know how I passed biology in high school. Sometimes I think they passed me to get rid of me. I was not a star student. I hated school and did well so I wouldn’t have to do it over, and the school hated me right back.

I am a mixture of German and Irish. I married an Italian dude. We have beautiful children together, probably because the hospital mixed up our babies with the super-models who were there to give birth on the same day. I kid. I never wanted a family or children, but here I am. I’m happy with my life, but my husband complains a lot.

My husband and I are recovering alcoholics and narcotic addicts. Although I never fully gave up narcotics or alcohol, except while pregnant and/or breast feeding.

I am a Gemini and proud of it. My entire life revolves around rebirth, rising from the ashes, starting anew, and then hating myself in the morning and wondering what (or who) made me do what I did.

I have over 600 pairs of panties, yet only six bras. I hate bras. I hate wearing them. I hate washing them. I hate putting them away. I hate putting them on. I hate having my boobs squished. I’d rather have saggy banana boobs (which I don’t!) than wear a bra.

I’m a video game junkie and will play any game at least once. That eats up a lot of my time. It keeps my mind busy and my brain focused on something other than chemical reactions. That can’t be healthy for my poor abused brain.

I can sing, but I can’t write songs. I lost that ability in high school.

I am a tattoo and piercing junkie. If it’s extreme and hurts, I want to do it. Maybe I just want to hurt myself? Who knows.

I don’t take myself too seriously. You probably shouldn’t (take yourself or myself) either. But I love people, and I try to be friendly, so say Hi already!



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