Category Archives: Plymouth State Blog

Mishandled and Misrepresented

Posted on by Standard Respond
if it's white collar, I've committed the crime

Some say I look quite a bit like Martha Stewart.

if it’s white collar, I’ve committed the crime 

 

Broads Centre Private Property warning sign

Broads Centre Private Property warning sign (Photo credit: ell brown)

Public nudity? Public intoxication? Defrauding the government? Sex on private property? Use and abuse of illegal substances? Graduated bottom of my class and now working under an alias with alien Barbie‘s for a cause?
The list is endless.
If conformity, habitual lying, crying wolf and taking on other’s personalities put me in segregation from Un-Natural people…prison or day camp for addicts…my parent’s would give a donation to a wing in my honor.
Perhaps, a bronze plague above the tub I used to find myself in whilst in college. Naked, high and on Ambien…
It is hard to know where the next unadulterated violation will occur. Perhaps, bending friendships into misshaped ideas of my rights and their wrongs.
Or, the mishandling and misrepresentation of Beckett Couvillion the third, dog wonder, while he takes a shit on someone’s lawn.
My future is so bright…I have to wear shades and assume the bend over position.
Can’t blame a dyed blonde for trying to be something she’s not…after all it’s the All American White Girl’s Wet Dream.

The Naked Truth

Posted on by Standard 1
..medicated and dedicated to the impurities that live inside us all.

..medicated and dedicated to the impurities that live inside us all.

sometimes little things just frustrate me to a point where i get depressed for absolute no reason…
i throw up and just lay in bed, watch buffy and try and sleep….it doesn’t matter the time..and then by the time my parents come home i have to put on a fake smile like my day is great!
just not a good time because i’m not even close to my reg dose of anxiety/depression pills…its why ive been dizzy, shaking, and moody for the past week.  I take too many of them and then the supply is exhausted and it too, becomes depressed.
the last night..or, one of the last night’s I drank, I slept with some guy, I felt like what little there is in me I had sold to the highest bidder.
I am depression. I am naked to any depth they world has to offer.

-Ambien, the Annie, Grace and her depressed dog, Beckett Couvillion the third

Breakdowns Come & Breakdowns Go

Posted on by Standard Respond
I <3 Psychosis (less racey wording)

I <3 Psychosis (less racey wording) (Photo credit: multipletentacles)

A bi-polar moment with love lost and lackluster attempts at holding on.

Most conversations are one sided and unedited as they are taken verbatim from messages from me to me:

So I’m going to Ruggles mine to shoot and stay in the area or so to find new locations if you want to go with me.    It’s up a mountain.  Really need a truck but  I want to take Ed my grandpa’s car, the hand-me-down Malibu, I named it after him.

If a knife would solve my head case I’d use it.  I just need to move out.

For instance, I spent four hundred dollars on a birthday present for my mother.  Broke into the secret stash of money reserved for pizza, fried chicken tender subs and junk food; didn’t matter she hated the ring.

You shouldn’t have paid this much, you shouldn’t have done that, you shouldn’t have asked your father to go in on it.  So on and so forth. 

Bear with me, Mum had me go on birth control so I don’t get pregnant and/or get my period but….it will all change later and I’ll be different. But I’ve been becoming a hormonal bitch as of last night.  Even when it’s not really that time of the month.   It’s like I’m bipolar!

I’m sorry I’m complicated.

Its why most ppl don’t stick around because I change my mind a lot and don’t know what I want, sometimes I can’t even stand being with me.

I’m just saying that all this happened in the period of my worst hormonal stages therefore. Where if something bad happens I have serious mood swings.

And it last 2 weeks.

 I gotta go. Shower time means I smell like shit and have been putting it off for days.

.. We’ll get together if I’m not in the same mood as I am now

Ok. You’ve been warned…I’ve thrown dumb bells before and cut myself up pretty good.

But I’ll text you as to when to meet up tomorrow.   I may over sleep I plan on taking above and beyond the call of duty medication wise.

I’m sorry.

I’m just extremely bipolar right now.

One min I want to see you and then the next I want to throw my fist into the wall again.

Five minutes later, I say this to anyone that will listen or hasn’t given up on the good Ambien Grace,

I like getting people going. I’m an asshole ha-ha…I like’d being with you today, I felt safe.

The moments in the mountains surrounded by granite, endless time and nature’s energy would not last long.  With every step I take into the dirt and every breath I breathe in nature I feel the mania and depression closer than ever and it is seeping in.

 

..

..

Dirty Thoughts & Clean Pills

Posted on by Standard 1

The Twilight series is not everyone’s cup of distortion but I find the absolute break from reality a relief.  As the movie theater clears itself of denizens of make believe.  As the seats empty and the matinee masturbator’s club descends on the parking lot.  I, Ambien Grace, am left alone with my unusual perception of the facts.

I had planned on joining AmeriCorps; make something right about this wrong world.  However, the uniforms are ugly, I’d have to pass periodic drug tests and I am unstable with and without medication.  So, check that idea off the self-improvement list.

I had hoped to do something in the sexual deviation part of the entertainment industry.  I even planned out the scenes on my computer along with some not so flattering photos of myself naked.

The scene would open dirty, dusty and downright derelict.  The spoken word between the two main characters would come from my own trunk of torrid thoughts:

So I get you a little excited with my hands on the inside of your thighs with a little bit of pressure. You’re gripping onto the railing as I put my hands up your shirt feeling your breast, squeezing them just a little bit.

I force you to get up and I pull your pants down. I get you to straddle me again only this time I feel how wet you are. I play with your clit for a bit, getting you more and more excited. I stop for a while to get you to beg for more. I start kissing down your neck to your chest. After a while I surprise you and put my fingers deep in you. . You start grinding into my fingers until you get to a breaking point and you slump over my shoulder!

You; my leading lady, tell me, Ambien, stop!

I in turn, don’t!  More anger and more pride arise from my barren soul until, visions of my mother float through my head!

Happens every time!

Like Viagra, my pills get me pumped.  Without them I am not whole.

So, the unfortunate scene only worsens until I have achieved my pill erection.  The scene of sex is now a scene of dismay between the two main characters:

“I’m a recovering lesbian alcoholic…”

Then I pause for thought.

“Sometimes I just want to give up and drink again. But I know in the back of my mind I don’t want to end up like my birth father” I cry to the leading lady of Ambien dreams.

Yet, another, dramatic awkward moment for poetry sake and I take a breath and whine:

“Let me see how many pills I have.

Fuck I only have 4!

I don’t want to put it off though…the fucking!  But, I took a ton last night

And I don’t know when my order comes in.

It’s just not a good time because I’m not even close to my reg dose of anxiety/depression pills…it’s why I’ve been dizzy, shaking, and moody for the past week.

i wish i had more of my anxiety pills.”

Quote, unquote.  My movie career ends as quickly as it starts.  No, ‘Ambien Grace Does New Hampshire Hard.’

I beg the Leading Lady,A Faceless Mask hold that thought and I’ll get back to you, I just need the pills to kick in!

As I get up to leave the movie theater of present and ‘real’ time, again, a tear floats from the corner of my eye and graces my cheek.  The parking lot is vacant other than for my Honda.  What I am?  Am I a pill with lips?  Am I my mother’s weakest link?  A kink in the chain of depression amongst drunken college graduates!

I’m not OK with Gay!

Posted on by Standard 13

Identity on CrackIf I were to die tomorrow, found by an unknown and the parents were called in for questioning, if Mother Theresa and Father Floyd needed to identify the body; they would not know want to look for!
Up at the Cinema on the heights I currently sit, awaiting the fantasy film of the week. I am invisible, I am alone and I am no one to anyone around me.
What worries me is this;
My mother picks out my clothes. She won’t let me wear men’s jeans. We have matching shoes. She makes my appointments for spray tanning during the winter months because as she puts it,
“Ambien, you just look so pasty and unhealthy!”
Theresa does not allow me to wear hats for hats remind her of gay people. She gives me my chore list in the morning and I receive no ‘Atta girl’ until the list is done.
When I volunteer somewhere to make this world a better place, Theresa has already told me that I am not allowed to touch the paperwork.
My mother dictates where I go, who I see and my sexual identity.
My father. Well he just balances my checkbook?
For all outward appearances in the tiny theater awaiting Bella my heroine, no one would know I was a college graduate. My life is planned; therefore, I need not worry.
Yet, worry I do. I know it is unusual for anyone to tell another adult who they can and cannot love. It is just that I don’t think I care that much.
I live for the Bella’s of this world, the Pocahontas’s, the Twilight’s last gleaming and eternal love affair.
Do I have a need to ride off into the sunset with a woman? No!
Women and I don’t mix because my mother tells me so. They are too controlling, too wanting of my attention and too much a female and not accepted by the moral majority.
But, Mother, the sex is good with women!
When I sit alone in the dusty theater watching an actress on the big screen, I hold my breath and think, I could do that! I could nail her!
Are women attractive to me? Certainly not! Older women, younger women, women friends should never be allowed to enter the forbidden zone, sex devientcy!
So, I make the most of it with toys and the occasional, masturbating in the back of the movie theater. I am quiet in my rhymic responses to myself. I arch and ache at the ‘once upon a time’ scenario.
I’ve been told by many that I don’t stand a chance with a ‘real’ relationship. A ‘real’ relationship would require giving of one’s self and understanding that identity is part of the process.
As the Twilight begins to open, I wonder about my mother and me. Our sordid relationship. She is just out of reach, just one Clonapin short of stealing my identity.