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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Can't Fight the Seether
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Blood curdling madness. Then helplessness. Then revenge.
That's my thesis.
Sitting in class, feet up on the desk...letting my mind seethe.
Thoughts keep drifting back to my own private madness. Every time I get
to thinking about it, my anger is refreshed. I sit there just staring
off into space, occasionally crash-landing back into reality, and tuning
out and seeing red again.
OK, you're wondering what the hell I'm so pissed about. Well
this file began as a result of someone invading my privacy. By "invasion
of privacy," I mean that my eMails are being read and my files are
disappearing, then reappearing. Also, my password happens to come up as
invalid at irregular intervals. At first I thought my ISP was to blame. I
don't know what I think of this. Half of me is impressed. Impressed that
anyone would bother taking the time to annoy me. Impressed that my account
has been haxored. A silly thing to be impressed with, yes, but...I was.
The other half of me was m a d. Mad because I could not dial-up, check
the mail, play in unix, or practice writing and compiling more c0des (I'm
learning C++; that is equivalent to another women driver). It was taking
my baby from me. But I was stung most by the fact that mail I sent was no
longer private. Excerpts from letters I wrote could be stolen and show up
anywhere. Things I said could be twisted around and come back to haunt
me. The main thing I phear about having my mail read is somebody might
figure me out after reading them. I am stubborn about giving people the
chance to get to know "the real me." Recently, someone said:
"It is very difficult to sort through all the layers of
reality that aren't really reality to get to the real
Skinflower. And you never know when you're at the
center of the Tootsie Roll Pop. Each layer of reality
looks just as real as the last. And they are all so
very unreal."
I thought it was a great analogy; comparing me to a Tootsie Roll Pop, heh.
I should just shut up about it, since seemingly harmless pranks like these
are expected from the g33ks in the scene. But I'm femme, and I won't shut
up.
My initial reaction was fear. Don't ask why - I thought I had
eliminated that emotion ("i'm baaack..."). My heart pounded momentarily.
But only momentarily; the next minute I wanted to choke something. My dog
was nearest so I choked her (just kidding, just kidding!). My mind was
racing though. Damn it, I was in a position where I couldn't do anything.
Hmmm...I don't think I am too good at expressing my thoughts. I listen to
music pretty much most of the day. Sitting at the computer most of my life
(or so it seems), with a plethora of industrial bands pounding their music
inside me. So, to better express myself, I can say I thought screeching
keyboards and the beat of a drum machine looping at 10,000 beats per second
("kill kill kill").
A couple days and a hundred rejected ideas later, I have resigned to
the fact that somebody was able to ruffle my feathers (er, petals). :) I'm
much more subdued about the situation, but it is nowhere near forgotten.
I've almost gotten over the initial rage; I can joke sarcastically about
it. With my wry smile and icy eyes, I find comfort in pushing myself
along at maximum speed towards my goal: revenge. I always get revenge.
Sometimes the opportunity falls into my lap, other times I have to play it
like a chess game ("time to pay the piper..."). I don't put up with any
kind of shit. So I'm biding my time thinking skippy little bass beats and
ambient guitar.
But my mind never sleeps, and, snakelike, I will strike when I know
I have a dead-sure shot. I am not all-consumed with revenge; I have a
life to live and will go on with it full force. But what goes around comes
around baby......
- SkiNFloweR
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