I don't know how cockroaches do it.

Living their lives in a constant state of massacre ... dead roach bodies everywhere. How do they raise their children, with the constant threat of poison bombs?

Their homes are battlefields, with little pools of death water. How do they keep living? Keep reproducing, making families, eating food, and celebrating their lives? Why aren't they deeply despairing about their surroundings?

Are they heartless?

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I fucking hate these stupid roaches. They are so much uglier than ants. I'll take an ant infestation over a cockroach any day. They're so big, with tentacles and stomaches that detach when they are scared! How fucking gross. I hope they all die, along with their children and their children's children.

The people that lived here before us would kill the roaches and leave their bodies stuck to the wall. I've scrubbed the walls enough times, and the stains don't leave. The roaches want you to miss them when they are gone. I WILL NOT MISS YOU, FUCKERS.

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Cucaracha (cuca) is spanish slang for vagina. But in Colombia, they have little cookies that are called cucas.

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I've been thinking a lot about the essay project I'm doing on bisexuality. I'm kind of unhappy with it ... with it's negativity, and the lack of responsibility taken for my choices. The fact is, I've made very little effort to be part of a queer community. Instead, I've cried a lot about how they won't accept me and shit. I'm tired of hearing myself whine.

During my time in college, we had this huge GenderQueer conference - which I didn't attend - giving the same bullshit line that I'm giving on this website. Something about how I don't fit in, don't belong, whatever whatever. The fact is, communities are made of people, and either I create community with my presence ... or I don't.

So, for now, I'm placing the project on hold.