why is it so hot in here?

Life is hard. Why am I back on here? I want to keep moving forward, but here I am sitting on my couch like a lifeless sack of nothing. Is nothing inherently lifeless? I don't know. I am having a mini panic attack in my mind. Another year of school? oh fuck. No tattoos from my tattooer beau? Oh fuck. No more drinking? Oh fuck. I am scared. Scared about the past and scared about the future. I just don't know what to do. Maybe I should've kept with biology and tried desperately to bribe someone to give me a PhD. The only thing that seems sensible right now is masturbating. Masturbating is a mindless activity that solves everything. Well, sort of.

Breathe Molly. I am beginning to get neurotic with nervousness. This post is merely a place to hold my words. I'd be lying if I didn't say that writing is my passion and has always been my saving grace. I hate how inactive in film I am right now. It breaks my heart. I kind of just want to go buy an expensive camera and start creating stupid shit. No fear filming. This is just one of those moments when the past creeps up on you, taps your shoulder and whispers, "Hey, I'm baccccckkkkk!" God damn.

I just want to erase and start over. You can start over, but your past will forever be there waiting to remind you that you've fucked up before and that you can do it again, fuck up, that is.

It suddenly got sweltering hot in this room.

Oh god, pre menopause.

I haven't even sold a script yet. Menopause, wait!

i'm back bitches... april fools

I took a break from blogging. I found myself censoring my thoughts and words just for this silly blog of mine. It has been good to be completely "real" with myself in my sketch journal. I'd like to say I am back in action, free as a bird, uncensored like Howard Stern, but that is not the case. I don't know when I will return to this blog.

So why even write this post?

I don't know. I guess I wanted to see my thoughts typed out and appearing on my screen again, imagining someone will read these prolific works called "posts."

Molly wants recognition...this is true.

Anywho. I am not coming back for a while. I still need to work on myself and go back to my roots where the love of writing and writing for self expression first arose. To anyone and everyone who reads this, I ask, "how much do you censor yourself?"

I do it way too much.

Chink.
faggot.
the jewish.
my niggaz.
I love giving head.
Blow me.
anal sex is good.
vibrators.
fat asses.
phat asses.
CUNT face.
bdsm.
my pussy tastes like diet coke.
I lie to please, it pleases me to lie.
rug muncher.
dykez for dayz.
titty twister.
dildo sucking fucktard.
retard.
balls on my face.
anorexic binge slut who eats cum for breakfast.
cutter.
druggie.
heroin.
alcoholic at 20.
spanking with your belt.
BIG cock.
NSFW.
life's beggars.
the colored peoples.
meat curtains.
two in the pink one in the stink.
butt buddies.
gay porn turns me on.
I fucked all your friends.
I fucked your roommate.
bisex sex.
pussy power.
they all smell as one race.
discrimination.
gay beaners.
blanco chica bonita.
puta.
floggers.
latex.
baby condoms.
bukkake.
pornhub low quality finger fucking.
tattoos.


Yup, now I feel better. Phew.

read with sarcasm

Life right now is kind of overwhelmingly shitty.

Now on a positive note, I am completely desperate for kinky sex, actually just any sex.
Sorry, just being honest here.

It is really not attractive, being as desperate as I am, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

I mean I am not looking for a boyfriend. I am just looking for a lil dickation.

Yup, dickation {dick vacation}.

And about every guy in the OC sucks a fat cock or knows the last guy I slept with because they met in high school or some bull shit like that. So really I have no expectations, except maybe to get an orgasm.

I mean if I am not using drugs or alcohol I still need something to fill the void, right?

Read this with a sarcastic tone. Then again sarcasm holds truth.

Blah what a week and a half this has been.

If only I could have kinky amazing sex and figure out an amazing feature film idea.

Dancing like the weird mother fucker that I am last night definitely helped me forget about everything, still, this pussy needs a good time.

Alright.

pure nonsensical whims

My blog is so basic and boring. It annoys me. Except I remember when blogspot/blogger changed formats and so I converted my blog to the new format, but it looked fucking hideous so that is why I stuck with the basic boring blog I have now. Ugh.

I have a feeling this post will be pure nonsense.

So I had my first class today, the language of film. It seems semi interesting, but sometimes I wish I would've just stuck to being a bio major even though I was failing all my classes. Screenwriting is scary. I keep envisioning myself as the tortured writer working at Starbucks till my body becomes ash and eventually mixes with the coffee grounds. I wasn't good enough for Chapman, only Fullerton. I am no Lena Dunham or anyone else severely talented. I am just Molly, who likes to write.

I don't know. I feel pretty alone right now, but in the good healthy way(this is what I asked for by being single). It is quite alright being lonely, but a lil part of it sucks. Yet, I feel so free. Free from obligations to others. All I've got to worry about is myself. I need to write more.

My friend from Saddleback who is in my language of film class is actually a viking, kind of. He dresses in all this crazy garb that I love and I respect him so much for being who he wants to be. He loves metal, has long hair, plays with swords, makes his own mead, wears leather arm band thingys, has crafted fur on his tattered jean sleeveless jacket. He is so positively weird. I would do anything just to feel content with myself enough to not give a rat's ass about what people think of me.

The whole stripping thing has been on my mind a lot lately. I have been tossing and turning, biting my nails and losing sleep over the mere idea of stripping. I decided I am going to do it. I am going to find an amateur night and try it out. I am not going to commit to a job or anything, at least not at first. I haven't been able to find an amateur night in the OC but I am hoping some LA clubs will have a night during the week.

Honestly I felt so depressed because I kept thinking that I was the problem and that these yearnings of mine were sinful. As Macklemore & Ryan Lewis song Same Love says, "A world so hateful some would rather die than be who they are." That's exactly how I felt.

So I am going to do it rather than hate myself for just thinking about it.

Here is the link to amazing song, quoted from above.

http://youtu.be/hlVBg7_08n0

Me vs. ME

So, tonight I went to Lady Gaga's Born This Way Ball. Besides some problems with this drunk bitch sitting behind us (me & my mom) it was still an amazing night.

I have loved Gaga from the very beginning. I have always stuck up for who she is as an artist and person. Tonight she made all of that worth it because it was as if she gave something back to me, she made me hopeful of myself. If that makes sense. Throughout the show she talked to us audience. She shared stories and words of wisdom. I honestly cannot recount the exact words of what she said, but I'll sum it up.

Love yourself. You are not alone. Don't give a fuck about what people think. Believe in fyour dreams. Be free.

These words are simple and common. Everyone tells you to be happy, believe in yourself, do good in school blah blah blah. But, when this woman comes out and tells you this wisdom, it really makes your heart beat faster. You want to believe her. You do believe her. Gaga knows.

Anywho, so what does this all mean to me?

I've always been a square trying to fit into a round hole. Where my depression, alcoholism and addictions stem from is the obsession to be loved and fit in. It is always a constant battle. It has been since people started tell me I was weird and wrong and stupid and a loser. From that point on the obsession became a sickness.

And here I am today, somewhat more myself, a lot happier, still battling for some things.

But if I am being honest, I still feel compelled to be all these things society does not want me to be.

One of my friends said that I am trying to be different just for the sake of not being the same. This is the farthest thing from the truth. I have tried to stifle my differences and odd yearnings because I felt I had to. I like exciting and weird stuff because I am open to everything the world has to offer and I just want to be a part of that. I like going against the grain because that's just me. It's not my fault the world thinks what I consider normal to be weird/wrong. Let me be clear. This is me. This is me trying to live life as myself. This is not for the sake of being different.

So what are all these abnormal things I am afraid to indulge in? Here are the big ones...

I wouldn't be a waitress, I'd like to try stripping.

I would have cotton candy pink hair.

Lots more tattoos.

Feel happy about all the weird outfits I put together.

Openly be in the bdsm community (or at least try it out).

Model nude.

Be bi, date a girl, see what happens.

Write without the fear that I won't succeed.


Doing these things would be more true to who I believe to be than who/what I am doing now.

I mean maybe I would strip and be like "this is not for me." At least I would have tried it! I can't even experience shit without the fear of being a weirdo/creep/outcast/disappointment. It isn't fair.

But Lady Gaga gives me hope that one day that I'll have the strength to do all these things without fear and with tons of love for myself.