Cocorosie - Gallows
Oingo Boingo - Dead Man's Party
The Time Warp
Siouxsie and the Banshees - Cities in the Dust
Delta Rae - Dance in the Graveyards
Ministry - stigmata
The Postmarks- Every day is Halloween:
Happy Halloween!!!
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Only Tuesday?
Ooooohhh mmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy ggggggggoooooooossssssshhhhh. Why am I awake? Why is it only Tuesday? And why on earth aren't weekends three days instead of two?
The crazy man who lives above me was at it again last night. (Actually he's been in rare form all week). At this point, I'm operating under the assumption that he's either smoking a TON of meth, or he's a gamer with some seriously unchecked anger issues (probably the later).
The late night screaming had stopped for several months, but it's back and louder than ever. Last night, just after midnight he screamed 'F*ck You!!!!!' so loud that it not only woke me out of a dead sleep, but I literally jumped out of my bed in a panic.
This was followed by hours of similar behavior, on and off. 'NoNoNoNONONONO!!!!' and 'F*ck you, you f*cking motherf*cker' topped the list of favorite phrases, and as usual it was accompanied with him pounding on the floors (my ceiling), kicking and throwing things like a crazy man, and slamming doors.
Both the police and the new building management have been unhelpful thus far, so for the time being I'm just trying to wait it out (again), as apparently this behavior comes in clusters.
For now, I look like this in the mornings:
...so bad, apparently, that the guy at Starbucks gave me my coffee free this morning. Plus an extra black coffee for good measure, though I doubt there's enough coffee in the world to make me feel better. Ha!
It's going to be a great day anyway. I can feel it in my bones. <3
Lots of love.
The crazy man who lives above me was at it again last night. (Actually he's been in rare form all week). At this point, I'm operating under the assumption that he's either smoking a TON of meth, or he's a gamer with some seriously unchecked anger issues (probably the later).
The late night screaming had stopped for several months, but it's back and louder than ever. Last night, just after midnight he screamed 'F*ck You!!!!!' so loud that it not only woke me out of a dead sleep, but I literally jumped out of my bed in a panic.
This was followed by hours of similar behavior, on and off. 'NoNoNoNONONONO!!!!' and 'F*ck you, you f*cking motherf*cker' topped the list of favorite phrases, and as usual it was accompanied with him pounding on the floors (my ceiling), kicking and throwing things like a crazy man, and slamming doors.
Both the police and the new building management have been unhelpful thus far, so for the time being I'm just trying to wait it out (again), as apparently this behavior comes in clusters.
For now, I look like this in the mornings:
...so bad, apparently, that the guy at Starbucks gave me my coffee free this morning. Plus an extra black coffee for good measure, though I doubt there's enough coffee in the world to make me feel better. Ha!
It's going to be a great day anyway. I can feel it in my bones. <3
Lots of love.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Trona Part 3.
At any rate, the black mud was super viscous and much harder to clean off my crystals than anticipated. I quickly decided I was wasting time attempting to clean them there and instead unloaded my haul into a different bucket in the trunk and and headed back out there.
This was what my shoes looked like before heading back out the second time:
By this point, things were pretty well picked over, (there were a lot of people there) but I still managed to collect several more really nice fist sized crystals. I headed back to the car with my finds, packed up, and headed back to the gem and mineral society.
Here is what my shoes looked like when I'd finished at the mud pits (they got sucked clear off my feet twice!):
[I still have to email the photos of the actual crystals from my phone to myself so I can upload them here, because I cannot for the life of me figure out how to work blogger from my smart phone...actually, I can't really figure out how to work anything on my smartphone except facebook, and that's only because it already had an app thing installed on it. Lol. Technology and I are not friends. At any rate, I'll try and get them up for you today-ish.]
In between field trips I wandered around, I ate lots of tasty things (they were selling something called "pepper bellies" which I ordered out of sheer curiosity, and it turned out to be Frito pie. I've never heard it called a pepper belly before, but it was still delicious. :) I bought lost of pretty things, and then wandered back to the car to work on cleaning the mud off some of my crystals, and to wait for the next trip to begin.
The second trip was to the Blow Hole. Basically, this whole area sits above a giant underground brine lake. All of these precipitate minerals grow down there in large formations, and once a year they drill holes in the ground, lower a hundred pounds of dynamite into each hole, and then detonate it to blow all those formations into smaller pieces. Then they lower this pipe attached to some sort of machine and it sucks up the brine and crystals and blows it all out over the ground so we can pick through the crystals.
I have a video of it on my phone, and if I can figure out how to get it on here, I will totally post it for you. If not, the dirty jobs episode "mud excavator" covers all of this pretty well. :)
Anyway, the Blow Hole is where my creeper troubles started, but I'll leave as much of that out of my story as possible because, really, it's just not that interesting.
The crystals I got here were prettier than the ones I got from the mud pits (and way cleaner), but significantly smaller. Here's a picture of the ground, totally covered in crystals.
And one of a hanksite crystal I found:
My computer is dying now Dear Friend, so more later, as always. I miss your face woman! So much!
This was what my shoes looked like before heading back out the second time:
By this point, things were pretty well picked over, (there were a lot of people there) but I still managed to collect several more really nice fist sized crystals. I headed back to the car with my finds, packed up, and headed back to the gem and mineral society.
Here is what my shoes looked like when I'd finished at the mud pits (they got sucked clear off my feet twice!):
[I still have to email the photos of the actual crystals from my phone to myself so I can upload them here, because I cannot for the life of me figure out how to work blogger from my smart phone...actually, I can't really figure out how to work anything on my smartphone except facebook, and that's only because it already had an app thing installed on it. Lol. Technology and I are not friends. At any rate, I'll try and get them up for you today-ish.]
In between field trips I wandered around, I ate lots of tasty things (they were selling something called "pepper bellies" which I ordered out of sheer curiosity, and it turned out to be Frito pie. I've never heard it called a pepper belly before, but it was still delicious. :) I bought lost of pretty things, and then wandered back to the car to work on cleaning the mud off some of my crystals, and to wait for the next trip to begin.
The second trip was to the Blow Hole. Basically, this whole area sits above a giant underground brine lake. All of these precipitate minerals grow down there in large formations, and once a year they drill holes in the ground, lower a hundred pounds of dynamite into each hole, and then detonate it to blow all those formations into smaller pieces. Then they lower this pipe attached to some sort of machine and it sucks up the brine and crystals and blows it all out over the ground so we can pick through the crystals.
I have a video of it on my phone, and if I can figure out how to get it on here, I will totally post it for you. If not, the dirty jobs episode "mud excavator" covers all of this pretty well. :)
Anyway, the Blow Hole is where my creeper troubles started, but I'll leave as much of that out of my story as possible because, really, it's just not that interesting.
The crystals I got here were prettier than the ones I got from the mud pits (and way cleaner), but significantly smaller. Here's a picture of the ground, totally covered in crystals.
And one of a hanksite crystal I found:
My computer is dying now Dear Friend, so more later, as always. I miss your face woman! So much!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
"Hermit" Is Not A Life Goal.
When I was in fifth grade we had to keep class 'journals'. Every day we were given a topic question and then we had to write about it. There were two questions that I answered 'incorrectly' which raised some red flags and resulted in parent teacher conferences. These two things have stuck in my craw for, I don't know, twenty or so years now. :)
The first was: If you could drive any kind of car when you grow up what would it be?
My answer was that I wanted to drive a hearse. Not a hearse like you see today, but a glass-paneled horse-drawn hearse like the Black Moriah in Tombstone (because of course, I'd just been there and it's super cool. Who wouldn't want to drive that thing?). It of course would need to be painted purple, because everything is better in purple.
(This is the Black Moriah, just for reference)
This immediately got me flagged as 'troubled'. Now, sixth grade was not my finest year. In fact, my life was at its most chaotic at this point, for a variety of reasons that aren't worth going into here. What is worth mentioning though is that for all the darkness in my life at this point, I was still a model student 99.9 percent of the time, and the legit issues that I had were the result of poor social skills and a total inability to read subtext. At any rate, I remain irritated that my purple hearse was deemed so socially unacceptable that my parents had to be called in. I felt then, much as I do now, that I justified my decision well, and that it was a reasoned and rational answer to an open ended question. Besides that, I don't think a purple horse drawn hearse is the hallmark of a serial killer in the making.
What I learned from that first 'wrong' answer was that people don't actually want to know what I want. They just want to hear that I want the same things (or at least similar things) that they do. I spent most of the rest of the year answering my questions based on what I thought my teacher wanted me to like. This, strangely enough, has been a valuable life skill, but that I suppose is neither here nor there.
The second question was: What do you want to be when you grow up?
This seems like a fairly straight forward question. I lapsed a little on my previously strict 'only write what the teacher wants to hear' rule on this one, though I did censor myself somewhat.
As I'm sure you know Dear Friend, as a child I wanted to be one of two things when I grew up.
The first was a grizzly bear so that I could live alone in the woods and eat lots of berries...and also, you know, anyone who bothered me. I opted out of giving this response since years earlier I had been told that I shouldn't want to eat people, and that no matter how hard I try I'll never EVER be able to be a grizzly bear. Never mind that eating people wasn't my goal per-say, but rather the consequence of sustained and forced social interaction. And never mind that my whole life everyone was preaching the 'you can be anything you put your mind to' mantra, so 'anything' does not include bears? Seems to me like someone should have qualified that one before I had my heart set on something outside the 'anything' realm.
Anyway, the second was a hermit, so I could live in the woods and eat lots of berries and be left alone. This, truthfully, remains my life goal, though it takes on other names from time to time (and now it's more like the high desert than the woods, but you get the idea). At any rate, this was not acceptable either as everyone is so concerned with socialization and social interaction and networking and whatever else that they just can't grasp why anyone (who wasn't a potential serial killer) would want to be alone all of the time. My parents were subsequently called, counselors were consulted and I retained the mark of the troubled child.
But the fact of the matter is that I'm the happiest and the least lonely when I'm alone. This has always been true for me, even as a very small child. Other people, well, some other people, I guess I should qualify that - close friends and immediate family - are fantastic parts of life. Amazing and wonderful, and all sorts of other things, but without quality (and quantity, really) time alone to recharge all of that becomes meaningless as the amount of sensory input just shuts my brain down and I fail to function. Besides that, other people slow me down. They are, for the most part terribly inefficient, talking constantly about things they want to be doing, or could be doing, but not actually doing them. That bothers me. I just want to sit down somewhere quiet and do things. I do not want to have to sit down and talk about all the possible ways to go about doing it.
Anyway, my point in all of that is, that my end goal, even now, is to get to a point where I can spend the majority of my time alone, working on research/projects that interest me with minimal forced day-to-day interaction with other people. I'm not opposed to having to work with other people, really I'm not. But I want to get to a place where I'm able to have some level of control over how much face-to-face interaction I have to have on a daily level.
People ask me what specifically I want to do with my degree, and I don't have a good answer for them. Because the fact of the matter is that I don't really care WHAT I'm doing, so long as I'm doing it somewhere quiet, and preferably alone. That's just where I do my best work. Simple fact.
But no matter how carefully I word my response, and no matter how carefully people try to word their replies, what their answers always boil down to is this:
Being a Hermit is not a (socially acceptable) life goal.
And you know what? I think that's lame. I think it was lame when I was in fifth grade, and I think it's lame today. We're not all the same, and our end goal shouldn't be to homogenize the human experience to the point where we all fit comfortably into tiny little socially acceptable boxes. I don't recoil in horror when I meet someone who wants to be a pharmaceutical rep, even though that's my own personal version of hell, why does everybody recoil when I say my end goal is a quiet life of introspection?
At any rate, today (while having this hermit conversation yet again) I came up with the solution to my problem. From now on whenever anybody asks me about my life goals or what I want to do with my degree or anything else I'm going to tell them my goal is retirement. How I get there is irrelevant, as long as I get to retire. And do you know why? Because that period, the post-retirement period, is when reclusive behavior begins to become socially acceptable. Because at 65 or 70, society assumes you've earned the right to pack up and move into the a yurt in the middle of the desert to eat nothing but cactus fruit and scorpions and only to interact with other people at their leisure.
At 28 however, it's still as unacceptable as it was at 10.
And for that matter, it's still almost as unacceptable was wanting to be a grizzly bear. . .it's just slightly more plausible.
And that Dear Friend, that, was all she wrote.
I miss you terribly. I hope your weekend is marvelous, and say hello to P for me. (Bebop too). Lots of love.
Me
The first was: If you could drive any kind of car when you grow up what would it be?
My answer was that I wanted to drive a hearse. Not a hearse like you see today, but a glass-paneled horse-drawn hearse like the Black Moriah in Tombstone (because of course, I'd just been there and it's super cool. Who wouldn't want to drive that thing?). It of course would need to be painted purple, because everything is better in purple.
(This is the Black Moriah, just for reference)
This immediately got me flagged as 'troubled'. Now, sixth grade was not my finest year. In fact, my life was at its most chaotic at this point, for a variety of reasons that aren't worth going into here. What is worth mentioning though is that for all the darkness in my life at this point, I was still a model student 99.9 percent of the time, and the legit issues that I had were the result of poor social skills and a total inability to read subtext. At any rate, I remain irritated that my purple hearse was deemed so socially unacceptable that my parents had to be called in. I felt then, much as I do now, that I justified my decision well, and that it was a reasoned and rational answer to an open ended question. Besides that, I don't think a purple horse drawn hearse is the hallmark of a serial killer in the making.
What I learned from that first 'wrong' answer was that people don't actually want to know what I want. They just want to hear that I want the same things (or at least similar things) that they do. I spent most of the rest of the year answering my questions based on what I thought my teacher wanted me to like. This, strangely enough, has been a valuable life skill, but that I suppose is neither here nor there.
The second question was: What do you want to be when you grow up?
This seems like a fairly straight forward question. I lapsed a little on my previously strict 'only write what the teacher wants to hear' rule on this one, though I did censor myself somewhat.
As I'm sure you know Dear Friend, as a child I wanted to be one of two things when I grew up.
The first was a grizzly bear so that I could live alone in the woods and eat lots of berries...and also, you know, anyone who bothered me. I opted out of giving this response since years earlier I had been told that I shouldn't want to eat people, and that no matter how hard I try I'll never EVER be able to be a grizzly bear. Never mind that eating people wasn't my goal per-say, but rather the consequence of sustained and forced social interaction. And never mind that my whole life everyone was preaching the 'you can be anything you put your mind to' mantra, so 'anything' does not include bears? Seems to me like someone should have qualified that one before I had my heart set on something outside the 'anything' realm.
Anyway, the second was a hermit, so I could live in the woods and eat lots of berries and be left alone. This, truthfully, remains my life goal, though it takes on other names from time to time (and now it's more like the high desert than the woods, but you get the idea). At any rate, this was not acceptable either as everyone is so concerned with socialization and social interaction and networking and whatever else that they just can't grasp why anyone (who wasn't a potential serial killer) would want to be alone all of the time. My parents were subsequently called, counselors were consulted and I retained the mark of the troubled child.
But the fact of the matter is that I'm the happiest and the least lonely when I'm alone. This has always been true for me, even as a very small child. Other people, well, some other people, I guess I should qualify that - close friends and immediate family - are fantastic parts of life. Amazing and wonderful, and all sorts of other things, but without quality (and quantity, really) time alone to recharge all of that becomes meaningless as the amount of sensory input just shuts my brain down and I fail to function. Besides that, other people slow me down. They are, for the most part terribly inefficient, talking constantly about things they want to be doing, or could be doing, but not actually doing them. That bothers me. I just want to sit down somewhere quiet and do things. I do not want to have to sit down and talk about all the possible ways to go about doing it.
Anyway, my point in all of that is, that my end goal, even now, is to get to a point where I can spend the majority of my time alone, working on research/projects that interest me with minimal forced day-to-day interaction with other people. I'm not opposed to having to work with other people, really I'm not. But I want to get to a place where I'm able to have some level of control over how much face-to-face interaction I have to have on a daily level.
People ask me what specifically I want to do with my degree, and I don't have a good answer for them. Because the fact of the matter is that I don't really care WHAT I'm doing, so long as I'm doing it somewhere quiet, and preferably alone. That's just where I do my best work. Simple fact.
But no matter how carefully I word my response, and no matter how carefully people try to word their replies, what their answers always boil down to is this:
Being a Hermit is not a (socially acceptable) life goal.
And you know what? I think that's lame. I think it was lame when I was in fifth grade, and I think it's lame today. We're not all the same, and our end goal shouldn't be to homogenize the human experience to the point where we all fit comfortably into tiny little socially acceptable boxes. I don't recoil in horror when I meet someone who wants to be a pharmaceutical rep, even though that's my own personal version of hell, why does everybody recoil when I say my end goal is a quiet life of introspection?
At any rate, today (while having this hermit conversation yet again) I came up with the solution to my problem. From now on whenever anybody asks me about my life goals or what I want to do with my degree or anything else I'm going to tell them my goal is retirement. How I get there is irrelevant, as long as I get to retire. And do you know why? Because that period, the post-retirement period, is when reclusive behavior begins to become socially acceptable. Because at 65 or 70, society assumes you've earned the right to pack up and move into the a yurt in the middle of the desert to eat nothing but cactus fruit and scorpions and only to interact with other people at their leisure.
At 28 however, it's still as unacceptable as it was at 10.
And for that matter, it's still almost as unacceptable was wanting to be a grizzly bear. . .it's just slightly more plausible.
And that Dear Friend, that, was all she wrote.
I miss you terribly. I hope your weekend is marvelous, and say hello to P for me. (Bebop too). Lots of love.
Me
Song for Today
It's been an Emilie Autumn kind of week. This one seems to fit my current predicament just right. :P
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Busy.
The last few days have been super busy. The cats have been out of control at night. (Oscar in particular has been exceptionally difficult.) So I'm a touch sleep deprived at the moment, an thus relatively short on words.
I have however, been working on my Halloween costume, since yes, I WILL be going out this year. (I know, right? It's a miracle. I'm leaving my house. HA!) Anyway, did a makeup test run yesterday which I was pretty pleased with. There's still some work to be done, but that's okay. I've got a couple of days yet.
Here's the prelim picture. I'll post a finished one once I'm happy with what I've got.
Oh, I'm going as a marionette, but you can't really tell here since I don't have my strings attached yet.
I miss your face Dear Friend, and I wish you were here to celebrate with me! I hope your holiday up there in The Land of Trees and Fog is just marvelous. Lots of love.
I have however, been working on my Halloween costume, since yes, I WILL be going out this year. (I know, right? It's a miracle. I'm leaving my house. HA!) Anyway, did a makeup test run yesterday which I was pretty pleased with. There's still some work to be done, but that's okay. I've got a couple of days yet.
Here's the prelim picture. I'll post a finished one once I'm happy with what I've got.
Oh, I'm going as a marionette, but you can't really tell here since I don't have my strings attached yet.
I miss your face Dear Friend, and I wish you were here to celebrate with me! I hope your holiday up there in The Land of Trees and Fog is just marvelous. Lots of love.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Trona pt. 2
Okay, so Saturday I woke up well before the sun came up, packed up my gear and headed up to Trona.
I got there around three hours before the first field trip started. I parked my car in line and headed into the show. I purchased my tickets, a scrub brush, a piece of carpet, and a gallon of brine before heading back to the car. I placed all my stuff in the trunk, filled out my trip ticket, and wandered up the road to the mineral processing plant to take some pictures.
This place was soooooo cool. You would have really appreciated it, I think. Sadly, it was protected with fences and did not photograph well. I'll add some pictures to this when I get home.
I wandered around some more, bought some pretty little things from various venders, picked up some maps and flyers on what to expect of the field trips, and on places to hike in the surrounding area, and then went back to the car.
At 9am we started the caravan out to the site. We drove down roads in between these huge brine lakes. Some of them were dry, some of them weren't. There was this loud bang every so often, like some sort of explosion, and I was continually convinced it was the sound of one of my tires blowing out, even though the road was well maintained. Lol! It turns out it was propane cannons to dissuade birds from landing in the lake.
At the end of Old Injection Road was a large salt flat for us to park on. There was a long trough full of brine water for us to wash our crystals in and on the other side of it, laid out in long lines were big mounds of gooey black mud. The whole place smelled of sulphur, and the mud sucked the shoes right off my feet.
I found a spot that looked good to me, threw my carpet down on the mud, and got to work. The mud was just full of crystals. I found almost entirely hanksite. I'm sure there was other stuff in there too, but I of course did not read the educational materials for this one before hand, so I wasn't entirely clear on what I was looking for. Plus, this mud is thick and tar like, so if it wasn't really apparent that it was crystal shaped, it wasn't even on my radar.
There were people who had been coming to this thing for decades, and really knew what it was they were looking for. They pulled out some amazing clusters of gigantic hanksite crystals. They were super impressive, I did not find anything that awesome, but I'm beyond pleased with what I brought home.
I filled my bucket up and went over to the trough to rinse some of the mud off of them. The trough however, was packed. There were people everywhere, and I was not about to waste any time battling my way through the crowd. Instead I hauled all my stuff back to my car, pulled my brine out of the trunk and did some cursory cleaning in the parking lot.
It was WAY harder than anticipated. (to be continued)
I got there around three hours before the first field trip started. I parked my car in line and headed into the show. I purchased my tickets, a scrub brush, a piece of carpet, and a gallon of brine before heading back to the car. I placed all my stuff in the trunk, filled out my trip ticket, and wandered up the road to the mineral processing plant to take some pictures.
This place was soooooo cool. You would have really appreciated it, I think. Sadly, it was protected with fences and did not photograph well. I'll add some pictures to this when I get home.
I wandered around some more, bought some pretty little things from various venders, picked up some maps and flyers on what to expect of the field trips, and on places to hike in the surrounding area, and then went back to the car.
At 9am we started the caravan out to the site. We drove down roads in between these huge brine lakes. Some of them were dry, some of them weren't. There was this loud bang every so often, like some sort of explosion, and I was continually convinced it was the sound of one of my tires blowing out, even though the road was well maintained. Lol! It turns out it was propane cannons to dissuade birds from landing in the lake.
At the end of Old Injection Road was a large salt flat for us to park on. There was a long trough full of brine water for us to wash our crystals in and on the other side of it, laid out in long lines were big mounds of gooey black mud. The whole place smelled of sulphur, and the mud sucked the shoes right off my feet.
I found a spot that looked good to me, threw my carpet down on the mud, and got to work. The mud was just full of crystals. I found almost entirely hanksite. I'm sure there was other stuff in there too, but I of course did not read the educational materials for this one before hand, so I wasn't entirely clear on what I was looking for. Plus, this mud is thick and tar like, so if it wasn't really apparent that it was crystal shaped, it wasn't even on my radar.
There were people who had been coming to this thing for decades, and really knew what it was they were looking for. They pulled out some amazing clusters of gigantic hanksite crystals. They were super impressive, I did not find anything that awesome, but I'm beyond pleased with what I brought home.
I filled my bucket up and went over to the trough to rinse some of the mud off of them. The trough however, was packed. There were people everywhere, and I was not about to waste any time battling my way through the crowd. Instead I hauled all my stuff back to my car, pulled my brine out of the trunk and did some cursory cleaning in the parking lot.
It was WAY harder than anticipated. (to be continued)
So...
I was stung by a bee.
It went down like this:
I was minding my own business, waiting in line at the drive-thru. Ace of Base was playing on my stereo and all was right in the world. As I grew more impatient with the minivan in front of me and the amount of time it was taking them to order their food, I began to look around.
Hovering, at eye level just on the other side of my window, was a bee.
He was just hanging-out out there, staring at me.
The minivan eventually pulled forward and so did I, leaving the bee behind. As I opened my mouth to order my breakfast, the bee suddenly reappeared, lunged at me, and bounced off my forehead. I completed my order while dodging the bee, which made my voice sound a lot like tHHHHiiissSSS. I swatted him away and pulled forward again.
I did not see him again. I heard no buzzing. Caught no movement out of the corner of my eyes. And so I assumed he had resolved his issue with me and gone on about the business of pollinating flowers.
At some point I became aware of a slightly fuzzy sensation on my left collar bone. I don't know how else to describe it. It felt like a large piece of lint had fallen onto me. It wasn't moving, and it made no noise. Obviously lint. Or something lint like.
Why I would assume this, I don't know. Particularly given the overly amorous attention given to me by the bee earlier. Besides that, giant pieces of lint aren't simply randomly generated by the universe. They don't just find their way onto your collar bone while you're sitting still inside your car, but I digress.
At any rate, assuming the fuzzy mess on me was a piece of lint, and without making any attempt to look at it or to simply brush it away, I reached down and pinched it (PINCHED IT!) between my index finger and my thumb. It was relatively solid -spongy- but not exactly soft, certainly not what I was expecting, but by no means alarming either. I secured my grasp and nonchalantly tossed it out the window.
It however, was not a piece of lint. Not at all. Instead, it was the bee. Sitting perfectly still, just hangin' with me in the drive-thru. He was displeased with my decision to pinch him between my less-than nymphy fingers and promptly stung me.
I was aware of the stinging sensation, but nonplussed as to its origins. The whole thing happened so fast that my mind didn't even have time to process that it was a bee and not lint on me, and that said be had subsequently stung me. Instead I was sitting there wondering how on earth I had managed to get hurt by a lint ball.
It wasn't until I pulled down the vanity mirror and saw the stinger, that I began to put the pieces together. What I can't figure out is, what on earth compelled me to pinch it rather than just brush it away? It seems like a strange course of action for me, and I can't recall a similar incident when I would have chosen to pinch rather than brush.
It's totally irrelevant of course, but the questions remain, buzzing around my head.
It went down like this:
I was minding my own business, waiting in line at the drive-thru. Ace of Base was playing on my stereo and all was right in the world. As I grew more impatient with the minivan in front of me and the amount of time it was taking them to order their food, I began to look around.
Hovering, at eye level just on the other side of my window, was a bee.
He was just hanging-out out there, staring at me.
The minivan eventually pulled forward and so did I, leaving the bee behind. As I opened my mouth to order my breakfast, the bee suddenly reappeared, lunged at me, and bounced off my forehead. I completed my order while dodging the bee, which made my voice sound a lot like tHHHHiiissSSS. I swatted him away and pulled forward again.
I did not see him again. I heard no buzzing. Caught no movement out of the corner of my eyes. And so I assumed he had resolved his issue with me and gone on about the business of pollinating flowers.
At some point I became aware of a slightly fuzzy sensation on my left collar bone. I don't know how else to describe it. It felt like a large piece of lint had fallen onto me. It wasn't moving, and it made no noise. Obviously lint. Or something lint like.
Why I would assume this, I don't know. Particularly given the overly amorous attention given to me by the bee earlier. Besides that, giant pieces of lint aren't simply randomly generated by the universe. They don't just find their way onto your collar bone while you're sitting still inside your car, but I digress.
At any rate, assuming the fuzzy mess on me was a piece of lint, and without making any attempt to look at it or to simply brush it away, I reached down and pinched it (PINCHED IT!) between my index finger and my thumb. It was relatively solid -spongy- but not exactly soft, certainly not what I was expecting, but by no means alarming either. I secured my grasp and nonchalantly tossed it out the window.
It however, was not a piece of lint. Not at all. Instead, it was the bee. Sitting perfectly still, just hangin' with me in the drive-thru. He was displeased with my decision to pinch him between my less-than nymphy fingers and promptly stung me.
I was aware of the stinging sensation, but nonplussed as to its origins. The whole thing happened so fast that my mind didn't even have time to process that it was a bee and not lint on me, and that said be had subsequently stung me. Instead I was sitting there wondering how on earth I had managed to get hurt by a lint ball.
It wasn't until I pulled down the vanity mirror and saw the stinger, that I began to put the pieces together. What I can't figure out is, what on earth compelled me to pinch it rather than just brush it away? It seems like a strange course of action for me, and I can't recall a similar incident when I would have chosen to pinch rather than brush.
It's totally irrelevant of course, but the questions remain, buzzing around my head.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Bliss.
This entire album is ridiculously sexy. It, in all actuality, defines the term. (Edit: okay, maybe it comes in a close second to Heaven's Patent Pending.) I'd write more, but it's distracting me.
<3
I miss your faaaaacccccceeeeeeeee
Friday.
Dance motherfucker *machine gun fire*
Stand your ground this is what we are fighting for
For our spirit and laws and ways
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war
For heaven or hell we shall not wait
Shall I think of honour as lies?
Or lament it's aged slow demise?
Shall I stand as a total stranger
On this day in this stone chamber?
Stand your ground this is what we are fighting for
For our spirit and laws and ways
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war
For heaven or hell we shall not wait
Shall I think of honour as lies?
Or lament it's aged slow demise?
Shall I stand as a total stranger
On this day in this stone chamber?
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Song of the Day!
Don't worry Dear Friend, today is going to be awesome. I may have left my phone at home, and the coffee machine at work may be on the fritz, but I've got enough Starbucks and Dragon Force to keep me going. :D
I miss you terribly today. I hope things are lovely in your world! *Muah!*
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
This Is My Angry Face.
Well Dear Friend, today has been a particularly terrible day. All things that could go wrong did, and did so spectacularly.
The harassment from that A-hole continues. My phone rings constantly, and there are now a handful of voicemails that I refuse to listen to. I am so angry about it that I can barely see straight. If he's still calling by noon on Friday I'm going to the police. There really aren't any other options at this point. I'd go into more detail here, but I'm so irate about the whole mess thinking about it really just makes me sick.
In addition to that pile of awful, there's this jerk at work that keeps trying to get me to take home stray cats.
This all started because YEARS ago there was a starving black kitten in the parking lot at work. Every day when I got there he would be sitting at the door to my department, tiny and emaciated and crying. It was terrible, so I trapped him and brought him home. Whatever. So he used to ask me in passing to take every damn kitten he pulled out of the boiler room or the air vents or whatever, and I've always said no. I'm allergic to cats, beyond that I don't even really like them, AND I've already got more animals than I'm supposed to have in my tiny apartment.
Well fast forward a couple of years and now there's this cat that lives in the boiler room. Cat, kitten, whatever. I don't know and I don't care. This jerk however WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE. For weeks now he's been following me around harassing me about this damn cat. He pets fake cats when he sees me in the hall, he constantly tells me how I'm killing it slowly by not taking it home, whatever. If you can think of it, he's said it.
So today I'm already pissed off about people not listening to me when I say "no" or "go away" and here comes the cat man. Today he's especially on his game. I however, am already SUPER pissed off and this B.S. is just icing on my crappy day cake. He starts going on and on about this damn cat and I am shouting, in my meanest voice, while refusing to stop, slow down, or make eye contact that I am not taking the damn cat, that I don't appreciate the continued harassment, and that his behavior is no longer fun or appropriate and if he keeps it up I'm going to file a complaint.
So what does he do? He continues yelling over me about this stupid f*ing cat.
Seriously? Who does that? It just made my blood boil.
And I know this cat bullshit is really just a non-issue, or at least it should be. I know that I'm extra wrapped around the axle about things right now because of this fucking creeper bullshit. But really, I don't think it's asking too much for other people to just back the fuck off when I ask them too. No means no. Leave me alone means leave me alone. And I don't want any more fucking cats means exactly that, I don't want any more fucking cats.
Period.
End of story.
That's all I know. Or rather, that's all I'm capable of mentioning right now. I owe you the rest of the run down from the Trona adventure, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. Right now I need a hot bath, some cold medicine, and some sleep.
Tomorrow will be better.
The harassment from that A-hole continues. My phone rings constantly, and there are now a handful of voicemails that I refuse to listen to. I am so angry about it that I can barely see straight. If he's still calling by noon on Friday I'm going to the police. There really aren't any other options at this point. I'd go into more detail here, but I'm so irate about the whole mess thinking about it really just makes me sick.
In addition to that pile of awful, there's this jerk at work that keeps trying to get me to take home stray cats.
This all started because YEARS ago there was a starving black kitten in the parking lot at work. Every day when I got there he would be sitting at the door to my department, tiny and emaciated and crying. It was terrible, so I trapped him and brought him home. Whatever. So he used to ask me in passing to take every damn kitten he pulled out of the boiler room or the air vents or whatever, and I've always said no. I'm allergic to cats, beyond that I don't even really like them, AND I've already got more animals than I'm supposed to have in my tiny apartment.
Well fast forward a couple of years and now there's this cat that lives in the boiler room. Cat, kitten, whatever. I don't know and I don't care. This jerk however WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE. For weeks now he's been following me around harassing me about this damn cat. He pets fake cats when he sees me in the hall, he constantly tells me how I'm killing it slowly by not taking it home, whatever. If you can think of it, he's said it.
So today I'm already pissed off about people not listening to me when I say "no" or "go away" and here comes the cat man. Today he's especially on his game. I however, am already SUPER pissed off and this B.S. is just icing on my crappy day cake. He starts going on and on about this damn cat and I am shouting, in my meanest voice, while refusing to stop, slow down, or make eye contact that I am not taking the damn cat, that I don't appreciate the continued harassment, and that his behavior is no longer fun or appropriate and if he keeps it up I'm going to file a complaint.
So what does he do? He continues yelling over me about this stupid f*ing cat.
Seriously? Who does that? It just made my blood boil.
And I know this cat bullshit is really just a non-issue, or at least it should be. I know that I'm extra wrapped around the axle about things right now because of this fucking creeper bullshit. But really, I don't think it's asking too much for other people to just back the fuck off when I ask them too. No means no. Leave me alone means leave me alone. And I don't want any more fucking cats means exactly that, I don't want any more fucking cats.
Period.
End of story.
That's all I know. Or rather, that's all I'm capable of mentioning right now. I owe you the rest of the run down from the Trona adventure, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. Right now I need a hot bath, some cold medicine, and some sleep.
Tomorrow will be better.
The run down. Part 1
Okay, so here's the run down on my Trona weekend.
I intended to leave Thursday night, but a number of events conspired against me to delay my start.
I had intended to leave work early if possible, or possibly on time to get all of my affairs in order and get on the road. Instead I had to stay much later than anticipated. As a result it was rush hour by the time I headed home and it took me almost twice as long to get there. By the time I made dinner, cleaned up, and got my things packed the sun was already setting. In addition, that creative writing project was due by midnight and I had yet to even think about what my project would be. I somehow managed to pull something resembling a Gothic ghost story out of my ass and get it formatted and tweaked enough to make it submissible just shy of the cut off. With that, I gave up my hopes of leaving Thursday and instead went to bed.
Friday I got up around 4 am, packed up the car, (which was actually my dad's car since he was changing my oil/checking my tires/whatever in preparation for the trip), and double checked that all my homework was submitted.
It of course was not. I had one assignment (15 short answer questions and a short essay) that was due at noon, and a philosophy midterm to take. Gross. So I did my homework, blew through my midterm, and headed across town to drop off the dog and swap cars back. By 10:30 I was on the road.
I took my sweet time driving up there. I stopped in Quartsite and spent some time at the rock shop looking for treasures for myself or Little B. I meandered around the 'antique store' which was really more of an antique shanty-town and had a lengthy conversation with the propriater about treasure hunting. He believes that he's located ALL of the lost treasures within the larger Arizona/California/Nevada area, by they way, via research. For 15 years he's been living in this shanty town selling stuff, and researching treasures. He believes that he knows EXACTLY where they all are. He's just waiting for the timing to be right to collect them, apparently. He also took the time to show me his extensive collection of bottles, and to explain to me how to cook a whole frozen pig without having to thaw it. Two hours passed this way before I was able to find a good point at which to exit the conversation and get back on the road.
I made it to my hotel sometime after the sun had set, took a bath, set an alarm, and went to bed early.
(This was written during my biostats class in an effort to keep me from falling asleep again. It only half worked. So please ignore the terrible writing and the fact that I just dropped off there at the end. I'll pick this back up again soon. LOVE!!)
I intended to leave Thursday night, but a number of events conspired against me to delay my start.
I had intended to leave work early if possible, or possibly on time to get all of my affairs in order and get on the road. Instead I had to stay much later than anticipated. As a result it was rush hour by the time I headed home and it took me almost twice as long to get there. By the time I made dinner, cleaned up, and got my things packed the sun was already setting. In addition, that creative writing project was due by midnight and I had yet to even think about what my project would be. I somehow managed to pull something resembling a Gothic ghost story out of my ass and get it formatted and tweaked enough to make it submissible just shy of the cut off. With that, I gave up my hopes of leaving Thursday and instead went to bed.
Friday I got up around 4 am, packed up the car, (which was actually my dad's car since he was changing my oil/checking my tires/whatever in preparation for the trip), and double checked that all my homework was submitted.
It of course was not. I had one assignment (15 short answer questions and a short essay) that was due at noon, and a philosophy midterm to take. Gross. So I did my homework, blew through my midterm, and headed across town to drop off the dog and swap cars back. By 10:30 I was on the road.
I took my sweet time driving up there. I stopped in Quartsite and spent some time at the rock shop looking for treasures for myself or Little B. I meandered around the 'antique store' which was really more of an antique shanty-town and had a lengthy conversation with the propriater about treasure hunting. He believes that he's located ALL of the lost treasures within the larger Arizona/California/Nevada area, by they way, via research. For 15 years he's been living in this shanty town selling stuff, and researching treasures. He believes that he knows EXACTLY where they all are. He's just waiting for the timing to be right to collect them, apparently. He also took the time to show me his extensive collection of bottles, and to explain to me how to cook a whole frozen pig without having to thaw it. Two hours passed this way before I was able to find a good point at which to exit the conversation and get back on the road.
I made it to my hotel sometime after the sun had set, took a bath, set an alarm, and went to bed early.
(This was written during my biostats class in an effort to keep me from falling asleep again. It only half worked. So please ignore the terrible writing and the fact that I just dropped off there at the end. I'll pick this back up again soon. LOVE!!)
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Fever!
Well, I'm sick again, officially.
I spent the vast majority of the day pretending all was fine. At one point, convinced I had a fever, I decided to take my temperature. The thermometer malfunctioned three times, giving me consecutive readings of 95.4, 105.1, and 101.2. I took that as a sign from the universe to just leave this one alone. I took some cold medicine and got on with life.
Later this afternoon I managed to gather up some of my crystals from the trip and head on over to my dads. My head was pounding, but getting there was really the hard part. Dad and I had an awesome time. We watched the dirty jobs episode that shows how they get the crystals in Trona up to the surface for the Gem-O-Rama, I showed him all my pictures, and we spent quite a bit of time going through the bucket of crystals talking about how they formed and what makes them unique. Then we spent some time looking at the new motors dad has picked up and planning which ones we're going to rebuild first.
Dad had commented earlier that I didn't look very good. I told him I thought I was getting sick again, but he brushed that off and told me I was probably just tired. When I went to leave though, he gave me a hug and pointed out that I was burning up.
i knew it. Totally knew it. So I'm officially calling myself sick. But as long as I'm not throwing up it's cool. Tomorrow I'll pick up some cold/flu medicine and continue pretending everything is fine.
That's all I know. That, and the fact that I love this video:
I spent the vast majority of the day pretending all was fine. At one point, convinced I had a fever, I decided to take my temperature. The thermometer malfunctioned three times, giving me consecutive readings of 95.4, 105.1, and 101.2. I took that as a sign from the universe to just leave this one alone. I took some cold medicine and got on with life.
Later this afternoon I managed to gather up some of my crystals from the trip and head on over to my dads. My head was pounding, but getting there was really the hard part. Dad and I had an awesome time. We watched the dirty jobs episode that shows how they get the crystals in Trona up to the surface for the Gem-O-Rama, I showed him all my pictures, and we spent quite a bit of time going through the bucket of crystals talking about how they formed and what makes them unique. Then we spent some time looking at the new motors dad has picked up and planning which ones we're going to rebuild first.
Dad had commented earlier that I didn't look very good. I told him I thought I was getting sick again, but he brushed that off and told me I was probably just tired. When I went to leave though, he gave me a hug and pointed out that I was burning up.
i knew it. Totally knew it. So I'm officially calling myself sick. But as long as I'm not throwing up it's cool. Tomorrow I'll pick up some cold/flu medicine and continue pretending everything is fine.
That's all I know. That, and the fact that I love this video:
Monday, October 15, 2012
TRONA!
I spent the past 4 days up in good ol' Kern County, CA hanging out at the Trona 71st annual Gem-O-Rama. It was awesome, Dear Friend, just awesome. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, but for now I'm going to bed so some pictures will have to suffice. Lots of love!
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Today this happened to me...
...again.
I came home and checked my facebook and one of my childhood friends had posted an update that was sort of borderline racist. I looked at it and thought, jeesh, she must have had a rough day, that's super unlike her. Lol.
Later, I stumbled across it again and her parents/family had taken the discussion wayyyy over into the heart of racism country. I thought, that's odd, surely they don't mean that. Let me read this whole thread....
So at some point I realize that this whole conversation is based on some simple misinformation.
Like the neurotic idiot I am, I am immediately compelled to rectify this. At no point does it occur to me that they are totally happy beating their chests, repeating buzz words, and disseminating false information. All people revel in the quest for knowledge, right? These people, like all people on the internet will value and objectively evaluate any information I bring to the table, right?
Imagine my surprise when the next time I check on it, whole thread has devolved even further, is less rational, and much more ugly.
Upon reading this I do not think, "oh, hey, I should probably leave this alone now, these people clearly aren't interested in what I'm saying".
Nope. That would never cross my mind. Instead I go straight into, 'oh, they obviously didn't understand my point. Maybe I wasn't very clear the first time. Let me just re-phrase/clarify/post more information, that will fix everything.'
*facepalm*
No.
No, LittleFoot, it won't.
(That last cycle then repeats itself once more, just for good measure.)
It is only now, after not one, not two, but three totally useless posts that I realize that the whole thing has devolved into the human equivalent of a bunch of monkeys sitting around throwing feces at each other (well, mostly at me), and nothing I say, no matter how articulate and well supported is going to shift their focus.
At no point is anyone going to say, 'hey, thanks for the information. I've read what you said, and still disagree. Here is why-----. But I really appreciate you starting this dialogue with me.'
Nope. Never going to happen. Instead they're going to shout sound bites from Ann Coulter or Michael Savage (or on the other side of the spectrum, Rosie O'Donnell). They're going to make even more extreme and inflammatory statements, and they're all going to like each others posts and give each other virtual high-fives.
You know what's really annoying about this? If I were watching someone else go through this, I would know what they were doing was futile. I would be able to point out the flaws in their logic, and remind them that people don't go to facebook to have meaningful discussions. They go there to shout out meaningless crap into the abyss.
Yet somehow when it's happening to me I fail to see any of that. I assume that the rules are different when I'm involved. It turns out (every time, mind you), that they're not. The rules are always the same.
Facebook caters to the lowest common denominator. Plain and simple.
But don't assume I've learned my lesson. I'd be willing to bet my entire fossil collection that within a month, I'll be right back here, going through this same process, wondering how on earth this manages to happen to me. Lol ;)
On that note, Dear Friend, I'm going to bed. Midterms all day tomorrow, then sleep, then road trips. <3
I came home and checked my facebook and one of my childhood friends had posted an update that was sort of borderline racist. I looked at it and thought, jeesh, she must have had a rough day, that's super unlike her. Lol.
Later, I stumbled across it again and her parents/family had taken the discussion wayyyy over into the heart of racism country. I thought, that's odd, surely they don't mean that. Let me read this whole thread....
So at some point I realize that this whole conversation is based on some simple misinformation.
Like the neurotic idiot I am, I am immediately compelled to rectify this. At no point does it occur to me that they are totally happy beating their chests, repeating buzz words, and disseminating false information. All people revel in the quest for knowledge, right? These people, like all people on the internet will value and objectively evaluate any information I bring to the table, right?
Imagine my surprise when the next time I check on it, whole thread has devolved even further, is less rational, and much more ugly.
Upon reading this I do not think, "oh, hey, I should probably leave this alone now, these people clearly aren't interested in what I'm saying".
Nope. That would never cross my mind. Instead I go straight into, 'oh, they obviously didn't understand my point. Maybe I wasn't very clear the first time. Let me just re-phrase/clarify/post more information, that will fix everything.'
*facepalm*
No.
No, LittleFoot, it won't.
(That last cycle then repeats itself once more, just for good measure.)
It is only now, after not one, not two, but three totally useless posts that I realize that the whole thing has devolved into the human equivalent of a bunch of monkeys sitting around throwing feces at each other (well, mostly at me), and nothing I say, no matter how articulate and well supported is going to shift their focus.
At no point is anyone going to say, 'hey, thanks for the information. I've read what you said, and still disagree. Here is why-----. But I really appreciate you starting this dialogue with me.'
Nope. Never going to happen. Instead they're going to shout sound bites from Ann Coulter or Michael Savage (or on the other side of the spectrum, Rosie O'Donnell). They're going to make even more extreme and inflammatory statements, and they're all going to like each others posts and give each other virtual high-fives.
You know what's really annoying about this? If I were watching someone else go through this, I would know what they were doing was futile. I would be able to point out the flaws in their logic, and remind them that people don't go to facebook to have meaningful discussions. They go there to shout out meaningless crap into the abyss.
Yet somehow when it's happening to me I fail to see any of that. I assume that the rules are different when I'm involved. It turns out (every time, mind you), that they're not. The rules are always the same.
Facebook caters to the lowest common denominator. Plain and simple.
But don't assume I've learned my lesson. I'd be willing to bet my entire fossil collection that within a month, I'll be right back here, going through this same process, wondering how on earth this manages to happen to me. Lol ;)
On that note, Dear Friend, I'm going to bed. Midterms all day tomorrow, then sleep, then road trips. <3
Monday, October 8, 2012
When I am sick
the world ends.
I am the single most pathetic sick person that has ever existed.
Vomiting is my kryptonite.
It systematically dismantles any functional aspect of myself in no time flat. It reduces me to a whiny, whimpering mess. Unable to do any of the things that need doing. Unable to do anything but throw up.
And I hate it.
I really, really hate it.
By this time tomorrow, if the vomiting continues, I can promise you that I'll swear I'm on my death bed. I'll be convinced that I'm not meant to survive it, and I'll be calling my dad with big, fat, salty tears dripping off my chin, asking in my soft, little-kid voice, why this is happening to me?
I've never handled being sick well, but vomiting is just one of those things that is so inherently evil that it just grinds my world to a total halt.
Tomorrow I will go get my phenergan prescription refiled. Tonight I'm taking dramamime, pepto bismol, and simply sleep. I'm drinking disgusting coconut water. I'm desperately trying to get my feet warm. And I'm praying for death.
Miss your face, Dear Friend.
If I die, remember to avenge my death.
<3
I am the single most pathetic sick person that has ever existed.
Vomiting is my kryptonite.
It systematically dismantles any functional aspect of myself in no time flat. It reduces me to a whiny, whimpering mess. Unable to do any of the things that need doing. Unable to do anything but throw up.
And I hate it.
I really, really hate it.
By this time tomorrow, if the vomiting continues, I can promise you that I'll swear I'm on my death bed. I'll be convinced that I'm not meant to survive it, and I'll be calling my dad with big, fat, salty tears dripping off my chin, asking in my soft, little-kid voice, why this is happening to me?
I've never handled being sick well, but vomiting is just one of those things that is so inherently evil that it just grinds my world to a total halt.
Tomorrow I will go get my phenergan prescription refiled. Tonight I'm taking dramamime, pepto bismol, and simply sleep. I'm drinking disgusting coconut water. I'm desperately trying to get my feet warm. And I'm praying for death.
Miss your face, Dear Friend.
If I die, remember to avenge my death.
<3
I owe you sooooo many little songs.
Nobody's Wife is one of my all time favorite songs. <3
It's too bad, but that's me
what goes around comes around, you'll see
that I can carry the burden of pain
'cause it ain't the first time that a man goes insane
and when I spread my wings to embrace him for life
I'm suckin' out his love, 'cause I, I'll never be nobody's wife
Step one -- slit my throat
Step two -- play in my blood
Step three -- cover me in dirty sheets and run laughing out of the house
Step four -- stop off at Edgebrook Creek and rinse your crimson hands
You took me hostage and made your demands
I couldn't meet them so you cut off my fingers, one by one
standing like john wayne
she is full framed
she is center stage
and my imagination is
rattling in its cage
I didn't really notice
when everything else disappeared
but as far as I'm concerned
if it isn't her
it isn't here
Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand
It's official,
I'm sick.
Ugh. After I spoke with you last night, I did my best to resolve the issue regarding the paper. It did not go well. In typical LittleFoot fashion, it ended up being a generally insensitive list of issues that needed to be resolved. In my mind, it was just business. To the rest of the world, apparently, it was a verbal assault.
FAIL.
I tried to put it behind me. Tried to let it go, and write it off as one of the inevitable side effects of group work, but I felt SOOOOOO bad. I couldn't sleep. I was so sick to my stomach over it that I just couldn't function. I wrote a long and rambling email trying to explain how things like this happen in my world. How sometimes I fail at realizing that other people have feelings, and that those feelings can get hurt...you know, until after I've already hurt them. I sent it just after 12:30 am.
By 1 am I was having a full blown panic attack. I was on the verge of crying and pacing around. I took a bath, I rocked back and forth, I just couldn't shake the sick, sick feeling in my gut.
At 2:30 I went back to bed.
I lay there and tossed and turned.
I watched the minutes tick by on the clock.
I listened to Thus Spoke Zarathustra on audio book.
I tossed and turned some more.
By 3:30 I was beginning to feel seriously ill. I sat up and immediately decided that was a bad idea. I crawled to the bathtub and took yet another bath. At just past 5 I let the water drain and sat with my head over the edge of the tub trying to shake the delirium just enough to let me find my work clothes.
I stumbled back to the bedroom, and for just a moment lay down on the bed to say good morning to the dog.
I stood back up and immediately vomited all over my lovely bed.
The next 40 minutes or so were spent vomiting up coffee stained caramel apples and ravioli from the night before into the bathtub, since that's as far as I could make it. It was that awful early morning kind of vomit, the kind that is ridiculously viscous and comes up practically in tube form.
Like human hair balls.
Trichobezoars.
Owl Pellets.
Horrible.
There aren't really even words to describe exactly how horrible it was, and nothing I can say would really do it justice, but it was horrible.
My whole day has mostly been a repetition of last night. Can't sleep. Can't get comfortable. ALL of me hurts. Can't stop throwing up. Constantly taking baths.
I'm ready to die. Honestly.
But it's midterms week, of course, and so my suffering is mostly irrelevant. I keep moving forward. Keep compulsively completing assignments somehow. Keep praying that I will be well enough for my big road trip this weekend. (Though that's starting to look seriously doubtful. *frowns*)
Blegh.
Anyway, that's all I know.
I really am hopelessly fond of the random pictures you send me now, since your phone doesn't work right. Particularly right now when I feel so badgered by words all the time. Tell P I don't want to punch him in the face when I talk to you either, which I think is the universal sign of acceptance into the inner circle. It's because we share the same birthday. That's the source of our powers of awesomeness.
Sending you lots of love Dear Friend. Lots and lots of love.
Ugh. After I spoke with you last night, I did my best to resolve the issue regarding the paper. It did not go well. In typical LittleFoot fashion, it ended up being a generally insensitive list of issues that needed to be resolved. In my mind, it was just business. To the rest of the world, apparently, it was a verbal assault.
FAIL.
I tried to put it behind me. Tried to let it go, and write it off as one of the inevitable side effects of group work, but I felt SOOOOOO bad. I couldn't sleep. I was so sick to my stomach over it that I just couldn't function. I wrote a long and rambling email trying to explain how things like this happen in my world. How sometimes I fail at realizing that other people have feelings, and that those feelings can get hurt...you know, until after I've already hurt them. I sent it just after 12:30 am.
By 1 am I was having a full blown panic attack. I was on the verge of crying and pacing around. I took a bath, I rocked back and forth, I just couldn't shake the sick, sick feeling in my gut.
At 2:30 I went back to bed.
I lay there and tossed and turned.
I watched the minutes tick by on the clock.
I listened to Thus Spoke Zarathustra on audio book.
I tossed and turned some more.
By 3:30 I was beginning to feel seriously ill. I sat up and immediately decided that was a bad idea. I crawled to the bathtub and took yet another bath. At just past 5 I let the water drain and sat with my head over the edge of the tub trying to shake the delirium just enough to let me find my work clothes.
I stumbled back to the bedroom, and for just a moment lay down on the bed to say good morning to the dog.
I stood back up and immediately vomited all over my lovely bed.
The next 40 minutes or so were spent vomiting up coffee stained caramel apples and ravioli from the night before into the bathtub, since that's as far as I could make it. It was that awful early morning kind of vomit, the kind that is ridiculously viscous and comes up practically in tube form.
Like human hair balls.
Trichobezoars.
Owl Pellets.
Horrible.
There aren't really even words to describe exactly how horrible it was, and nothing I can say would really do it justice, but it was horrible.
My whole day has mostly been a repetition of last night. Can't sleep. Can't get comfortable. ALL of me hurts. Can't stop throwing up. Constantly taking baths.
I'm ready to die. Honestly.
But it's midterms week, of course, and so my suffering is mostly irrelevant. I keep moving forward. Keep compulsively completing assignments somehow. Keep praying that I will be well enough for my big road trip this weekend. (Though that's starting to look seriously doubtful. *frowns*)
Blegh.
Anyway, that's all I know.
I really am hopelessly fond of the random pictures you send me now, since your phone doesn't work right. Particularly right now when I feel so badgered by words all the time. Tell P I don't want to punch him in the face when I talk to you either, which I think is the universal sign of acceptance into the inner circle. It's because we share the same birthday. That's the source of our powers of awesomeness.
Sending you lots of love Dear Friend. Lots and lots of love.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
White OUT!
Oh Dear Friend. Today while reading The Daily Mail, I came across this:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2214116/Yale-kids-make-15m-site-reveals-true-meaning-rap-lyrics.html
I thought of you instantly. I miss your blog posts, more so now, I think, since we're teetering on the edge of being incommunicado. XP
There's not a whole lot of anything to report from the home front. Little Sister posted some awesome pictures of your pumpkin carving exploits. I demanded that she send you home at once, but she refused. She gave me a predictably long explanation as to why, but the root of it seemed to be that you are her other half. I would have pointed out that you are just as much my other half as hers, but that would have resulted in some sort of discussion, which I was uninterested in having, so I let it lie. Lol.
The holidays are rapidly approaching, and while I have grand plans this year, they are not nearly as grand as the holidays when we all got together. I'm certain they will be predictably bittersweet. I am, however, slightly less bitter about the state of things this year than last year though, so I suppose that's progress. :)
I'm up to my eyeballs in midterms at the moment, and am currently drowning in a seemingly endless sea of senior-itis. I have absolutely no drive, and no interest in doing much of anything class related. Couple that with the fact that two of my midterms are tandem papers, having to be researched and written with another person, and as you can imagine, I have now moved from passive to active avoidance.
Oh, and I have to write a Gothic ghost story for my lit class by Thursday. 10-ish pages. I'll send it to you once I get something started, and we can laugh at it together okay? Lots of love Dear Friend! Love to P too. <3
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2214116/Yale-kids-make-15m-site-reveals-true-meaning-rap-lyrics.html
I thought of you instantly. I miss your blog posts, more so now, I think, since we're teetering on the edge of being incommunicado. XP
There's not a whole lot of anything to report from the home front. Little Sister posted some awesome pictures of your pumpkin carving exploits. I demanded that she send you home at once, but she refused. She gave me a predictably long explanation as to why, but the root of it seemed to be that you are her other half. I would have pointed out that you are just as much my other half as hers, but that would have resulted in some sort of discussion, which I was uninterested in having, so I let it lie. Lol.
The holidays are rapidly approaching, and while I have grand plans this year, they are not nearly as grand as the holidays when we all got together. I'm certain they will be predictably bittersweet. I am, however, slightly less bitter about the state of things this year than last year though, so I suppose that's progress. :)
I'm up to my eyeballs in midterms at the moment, and am currently drowning in a seemingly endless sea of senior-itis. I have absolutely no drive, and no interest in doing much of anything class related. Couple that with the fact that two of my midterms are tandem papers, having to be researched and written with another person, and as you can imagine, I have now moved from passive to active avoidance.
Oh, and I have to write a Gothic ghost story for my lit class by Thursday. 10-ish pages. I'll send it to you once I get something started, and we can laugh at it together okay? Lots of love Dear Friend! Love to P too. <3
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Song of the Day for Yesterday!
I'm in tremendous spirits these days Dear Friend. Tremendous spirits. Sing this happy little song with me, will you? Lots of love to you and P. <3
I can take my clothes off
I cannot fall in love
You'll never see my eyes
I will not call you back
I cannot do the Smurf
I cannot fall in love
I'll never fall in love
I cannot fall in love
I can take my clothes off
I cannot fall in love
You'll never see my eyes
I will not call you back
I cannot do the Smurf
I cannot fall in love
I'll never fall in love
I cannot fall in love
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
October!!
Welcome October! I'm so happy it's finally here! It's such a glorious and fantastic month. I am full of energy, and joy, and autumn loveliness, that it almost doesn't matter that I'm neck deep in midterms. :) You'll have to excuse my patchy posts while I muddle through them, but for now, here's a happy song to sing. Miss your FACE!
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