Sunday, April 28, 2013

Life Decisions and Bad Days

I'm having them.

I've finally got a place to stay for the next however long they'll keep me.  I'm excited.  Actually, I am, despite my lack of emphatic punctuation.  I'm not...Not in the mood to express my excitement.

I'm self medicating for the mood with ice cream (Half-Baked from Ben and Jerry's and actually it's FroYo because I make good decisions when I'm not paying attention) and Sprite splashed with vodka.  Considering last night, that last bit might be a bad decision but I'm beyond caring right now.

Also Coupling is the background theme of the night.  I'm planning on attempting to do my  nails tonight too.  I'll possibly blog a bit more tonight too.

I don't know...I'm just...I'm in this position in my life where I either need to quit this breakfast job or I need to be admitted into an insane asylum because it's driving me up the wall.

Since I know my parents don't read this, I'm going to confess that I didn't go into work this morning like I was supposed to.  I called in sick because I woke up at 4:30 and was still too drunk to drive.  So yeah, didn't go to work.  And frankly, it probably would have made everything worse.

Because last night was bad.  It ended badly.  I started chronicling it just now, but I've decided you all don't need to know the gory details.

And so I drank last night, and I honestly thought I wouldn't be drunk by the time I needed to be awake, but I was wrong.  And so I called in sick.

But I end up not wanting to go to work almost all the time these days.

And frankly, I'm getting all of these signals (read: everyone is telling me outright) that I need to quit this damn morning job.  I love the bar, I would prefer it if we served more than beer and wine, but I do love it.  And the evening people are far nicer than the morning people.  And frankly, I prefer inebriated people.  Not completely trashed, somewhere between intoxicated and drunk is the best.  Breakfast, however, has never been one of my favorite meals, ever.  And people before noon are not happy as a general rule.

And recently things have just been going downhill.  And I need to just make time to meet the GM and talk to him about just working bar or leaving because I cannot do breakfast anymore.  And everyone has been telling me this stuff for ages.

Sorry, watching TV and blogging do not mix actually.  I'm kind of ADD right now.

Anyway...I'm going to work on my nails...

Until Next Time, Dear Readers

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


I'm waiting for my study buddy to show up and procrastinating on actually starting the studying process without her, also not writing the story I'm currently working on.

I was, but then I decided I actually wanted to write a blog post.

Not sure what I wanted to say though.  I'm mostly just fishing for distractions at this point.

I'm feeling much better today than I was yesterday.  Which is good.  I mean, I still don't have a for sure place to live next year, and I'm kind of annoyed with where I work (not as bad as usual, just a vague annoyance mostly to do with the training thing again.  I won't go into it because it's fine, and it's no longer an issue, but I swear, if they'd just tell me all of the information at first, I'd do it.  I promise I would).  But my general outlook today is fairly positive.  I certainly won't be holding my breath for anything, but I figure it will all work out in the end regardless of what the outcome actually is.  Que Sera Sera, etc.

I wanted to expand on a partial theme of yesterday, about my hypochondria and asexuality.  And also on the topic of asexuality.

I am a huge hypochondriac.  I'm just aware that I am. Which may end up being a problem if there is actually something wrong with me.  But it's also why I've self-diagnosed a lot of my mental, physical, and emotional issues.  Because I'm not entirely sure I haven't just exaggerated what I really feel, or because I know the symptoms of several of them I haven't made a false diagnosis.  And I'm certainly not paying money for someone to tell me I'm wrong.  I do that any time I make a bet.  I mean, I'm pretty sure there's nothing actually wrong with me, but sometimes it's nice to have a word for what I'm feeling, no matter the inaccuracy of that word.  Does that make any sense?  I also sometimes will cause myself to have symptoms of things, because I know what they are.  My brain works in over drive and, well, long story short (too late) I can actually have a symptom of something, post learning about it, or the way I think about the way I do things or react to things will be looked at in the light of the new information.  Which makes me question whether or not I really felt it before, or if I've made it all up.

Anyway, so onto the topic of asexuality, because it is actually related.  I read a LOT of Sherlock fan fiction, and in the course of doing so you learn that a lot of people are of the opinion that Sherlock Holmes (in the Arthur Conan Doyle canon, especially) is in fact asexual and that he and Watson have a romantic relationship, but not a physical one.  A bromance, if you will, but to the extreme.

In the course of learning this, on a whim Friday, I decided to browse the asexuality tag of Tumblr, in case I found a random Sherlock fic.  I knew, of course, that people do identify sexually as asexual (that's a sentence I'm sure you don't hear very often).  I mean, it makes sense.  And in the course of my browsing, I learned that asexuality is not as clear-cut as it sounds.  It's the same as bisexual.  Or homosexual, or heterosexual, or biromantic, bi curious, pansexual.  What I'm getting at is that there are a lot of ways for a person to like other people.  And asexual is just a broad term for something that a lot of people feel very similarly, but not necessarily the same.

Based on my very limited research (because I haven't yet gotten around to exploring AVEN, which I need to do because it came up A LOT in my perusing) I noticed that people were very passionate about their lack of sexual passion.  Because a surprising number of people claim that it's not a real sexual orientation.

But some people just don't feel sexually attracted to other people.  They can find them physically attractive, they can find them emotionally or mentally attractive.  Some people can become sexually aroused but not by other people, some of them even masturbate for other purposes than sexual arousal.

And that's just the short list.  There are other terms used in asexuality (not in it, per se, just...I can' vocabulary is not at the point I would like it to be to properly explain this, and I fully support you going out and doing your own research on the subject, as long as you don't spread hate or misinformation, because, guys, that's just not fucking cool, okay?) such as graysexual and demisexual and semisexual and there is a lot of cross over but the general thing is that it's not the same for every person, but at the same time, there are enough similarities that we can have these overarching terms, and that we can also be fairly certain that they are not straight, or gay, or bisexual in the sense that they are sexually attracted to another member of the human race based on gender or, well, sex.  Not to say that there aren't hetero-leaning asexuals, or bi-leaning graysexuals, or anything like that.  Because, again, it is not as clear cut as we would really prefer.  And most asexuals are not loners and they do actually want human contact, and they are interested in having meaningful relationships with other people.  Just not necessarily with a sexual aspect to it.

And I'll tell you what, I feel like I have enough similarities with these broad specifics (oxymoron, I know, I know.  But...that's what it is.  These are the broad topics in a very specific category) that I feel like I could be on the asexual spectrum.  Because I have not felt sexually attracted to people.  I've found them attractive, certainly.  But while I've expressed interest in seeing what sex is like, it's mostly in an experimental fashion, and I don't have enough interest in it that I would be willing to just go out and willy nilly hook up with someone.  Or do those sorts of activities with someone I didn't have an emotional attachment or relationship with.  And even still, it would be to see if I even enjoy it.  Because, frankly, I don't see the appeal.

Someone put it very well on Tumblr, relating it to cake. (please click the link.  The font is small, and the site is busy looking, but it just states this feeling so well and accurately)

I just...That's what I feel like.  And I wonder if I would have a better idea as to my sexuality if I'd had sex before.  But I just don't want to.  It doesn't appeal.

I don't know...More research needs to be done, but who knows when I'll get around to it.

Thanks for listening to me ramble, guys.  I appreciate it.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Charlie Brown Complex

I haz it.

If you don't understand what I mean (and it's fine, none of you actually live in my head and therefore would not likely know what I was talking about until I explained at least half of it), a Charlie Brown Complex is based off of one of the serial strips of Peanuts, wherein Charlie Brown states that he's afraid to feel happy about anything because every time he does, something goes wrong.

I have that.  However, it's not like it's totally unfounded.  As I'm sure you remember my post from last week (if not, it's just the next post back.  Should be fairly easy to find) I was very happy about many things in my life going very well.  Namely, having found a place to live so I didn't have to househunt anymore for next year.

As you can imagine based on the overarching theme of this post right here, this has fallen through rather spectacularly.  (Well, I say that, and I'm exaggerating a little.  In order for it to have fallen through spectacularly, something like an explosion or something equally as catastrophic and quite incredible would have had to happen.  But it kind of feels like the whole thing blew up in my face, so I'll continue using the word spectacularly)

I'm not going into the details because they aren't terribly important.  Main thing is that I'm not moving there after all.  I'm still not entirely sure where I'm going to be when this lease ends, and the uncertainty is killing me.

I mean, there's been an offer of a place, but frankly the uncertainty of the people offering it has left me less than confident about my chances, and I just can't afford to get my hopes up right now.  Because what goes up must come down and when I come down I come down HARD.  And it's not entirely pleasant, thanks very much.

I'm also running up against the end of the semester with very little of the required work done, and I need to fucking graduate this semester.  I'm quite behind and it's very stressful, but I only have myself to blame.  I could have had a lot more done if I'd just done it all.

So yeah...and I worry sometimes that my hypochondria affects me a lot more than I realize.  Like, life choices/decisions/etc. affects me.  And I really don't want it to.  Because I don't think I'm depressed, and I don't know if I'm somewhere on the asexual scale or not (there is a wide range of asexuality out there, and therefore I need to do research more thoroughly to make sure I'm not just latching onto the first thing I see that might maybe make sense).  I just...I'm struggling right now with a lot of things going on in my head, and the fact that I haven't had a day where I didn't do SHIT in a week and a half is wearing on me.  I've been going for two weeks without a day off.  14 days.  I'm not even joking.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  I don't know.  Counting and Math are not my friends today.

And I just...I just...I'm going to get Thursday off and hopefully if GL schedule allows, I might go up and see her and do nothing with her for the day.

Ugh.  I don't know.  I need to...

Probably eat, but I'm not entirely sure if I really want to right now.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

So Hi!

I've been a really successful adult recently.  It's been very exciting and fulfilling for me.

I'm really making headway and I hope it keeps up.

But first, I would like to take a moment and send out good thoughts and feelings to those at my school who have been affected by the events of Friday, as well as those in Boston who were affected by the events of Monday, and those in the foreign countries who live with these kinds of acts of terrorism every single day of their lives.  It's been a really long, really stressful five days or so, and it's a shame that there even needs to be a mention of it, as it really just shouldn't happen at all.  That's all I'm saying because I'll get irreverent and start in on my black sense of humor as a way of coping with uncomfortable and upsetting topics, and no one wants that.

Now, on to the good parts (Do you like how I've set this up?  First all the sad depressing stuff, and now good things for me).  I made my first big-girl decision yesterday.  I looked at an apartment in Blacksburg, and quite honestly it's about the nicest place I've ever looked at, he was the only person to keep in contact with me after the first email, and honestly, it's the cheapest all around.  The landlady is going to be emailing me the application today and I'll be sending it in ASAP because this is too good an opportunity.  I can't even believe I got this lucky.  And the guy who will be my roommate is totally chill and pretty low key.  He's a Whovian so I imagine we'll get along pretty well.  He apparently has only a really shitty other option, which is an old friend from high school who has turned into an Eeyore/Charlie Brown type depressed person, and no one wants to be around that kind of negativity all of the time.  So it really works out well for both of us.

I have also started working Bar shift at the hotel I work at.  Which has been super fun and I really enjoy the evening people WAY more than the morning people.  It's slow as fuck all, but that's okay, because then there's very little I have to do.  I'm already really good at opening bottles and pouring beer and wine, and the only thing I'm having to really learn is making the food, but it's not even that difficult.  Everyone either orders a quesadilla or a burger, and honestly, those are fairly easy.  I'm just out of practice, but since I know where everything is in the kitchen (and how the Breakfast people like the kitchen to be kept) I think I'm going to quickly become a favorite.  I have required very little training.  The hardest part right now is remembering the specials, but even at that point, it's not terribly difficult.  Also, finding which wine I want because it's dark in the cabinet and it's all the way down near the floor, and so I have to, like, crouch down and hunt a little.  Not that it's unorganized, I just haven't quite got the order down enough to be able to figure out what is where yet.  But it's super easy and, again, the evening people are WAY easier to talk to and get along with than the morning people.  It helps I'm also being trained by people who speak actual english and not broken, heavily accented english.  And I'm likely not going to be left on my own for a super busy week or so.  Like I was with breakfast.

So I'm pretty psyched about this, because I've wanted to be a bartender since I was, like 12 or 14 (it varies with who I tell, but it was around then anyway), and while it's just beer and wine (and bar fare food, which I would never have to make myself at any other establishment), it's a step in the right direction, and I can only hope they start putting me on bar almost always and start taking me off of breakfast, because frankly, I'm tired of wasting my weekends, tired of having to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn to work with people who don't always understand me, and who I don't always understand, tired of finding out FAR too late that I've been doing something wrong for a very long time, because no one bothered to actually tell me when I started out, or when it changed, tired of being given two sets of information (because that's what REALLY happened there, and I'm not going into it because I'll start playing the blame game, and while they should have properly trained me and told me these things, I've been there for two years, and the english speaking component of the hotel assumed I knew what was going on because of that).  I'm just tired of it.  And the people are a lot less nice in the mornings.  Mostly because they haven't had coffee or food yet, and they've just woken up and let's be honest, no one likes being awake in the morning pre-food/coffee.

I'm also getting a start on making sure I pass my fucking classes this semester.  I feel kind of bad, because while the shooting on Friday was traumatic enough for them to put special grade solutions in place for the school, it's going to make doing all of this so much easier on me.  But at the same time, it's going to make it easier for everyone who doesn't...who doesn't feel as affected by the events as those people who were actually there.  I know I've got issues.  I've separated myself from the event both because I was not actually there and didn't really know anyone who was affected by the event, and because that's just how I've dealt with these things.  I feel sympathy for these people, I do, but I don't...I don't empathize with them as well as I feel like should be appropriate, which is why I'm sitting here writing this and not down at the support gathering.  I mean, they've told us (by they I mean the staff who told the teaching staff, one of whom told my statistics class this morning) that people process this stuff all sorts of different ways and it's okay to feel however you feel about the incident, whether it's really sad, really angry, or really not anything at all.  And that helps, but I don't always weirds me out when I think about how I just don't feel affected by it, because I feel like I should, because that would be socially acceptable.

Ah well, no use dwelling on something I can't actually change.  Pretending to feel something would be a lot worse, I think, than feeling nothing at all.

OH!  On a completely different note that is totally unrelated (though the previous sentence did spark the thought), I'm moving on.  Completely this time.  It has occurred to me that I have a self-destructive pattern of attraction to certain types of boys (not men, never men) and that I need to figure out who I am, what I need, before I can actually attempt the whole emotional attachment thing again.  I'm...I'm not bringing it up with the boy in question, because, again, I'm just not that much of a masochist.  But I thought you all should know.  Because I'm done.  I'm done with all of the bullshit and drama, and when I'm confident enough in myself and my feelings to do something about it, when it feels right, when I'm comfortable (or at least, not completely uncomfortable) in my skin, I will be ready.  But it is not that time yet, and it never will be if I keep hanging on to things I can't have.

So I'm moving on, growing up, becoming a successful adult, and maybe one day I'll be ready for all of that feelings nonsense again, but I'm not now, and I'm going to accept that, embrace it, and just be me.

I know I do this every couple of months or so, but I actually mean it this time you guys.  I'm going to do this.

You all are wonderful, and I appreciate that you still read my rambling, nonsensical, unorganized thoughts.  Thank you!

Until Next Time, Dear (dear, dear) Readers

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Forty-Two and other such nonsense

Hi guys.

You're gonna get spoiled, all these not-Wednesday posts I keep doing.

So yeah, hi.

I don't know what keeps you guys coming back.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm super grateful for it, certainly, but I just don't understand.

I'm not having the absolute best of days.  Don't get me wrong, it ended very well (well...prior to Roommate's dogs being fucking OBNOXIOUS with their incessant WHINING.  Seriously.  You'd think they were going to be left alone forever the way they carry on.), but it has not been a fantastic day.

I just...I fucked up at work.  And apparently I've been fucking up but no one bothered to let me know until today when they realized it was happening.  I honestly didn't know I was doing anything wrong, but because I was doing something wrong, a customer was unhappy, and me, being the people pleaser that I am (recovering? Haha, yeah THAT'S what we're calling it) was then put into the position of having EVERYONE upset with me.  And then I had to try and make it better without someone going home upset.

So guess who cried on her way home from work today?  Yeah...I mean, luckily it's been a while, but I just...

It's days like today where I go "Oh duh! That's why no one sticks around/wants me to stick around!"

And it's not a healthy attitude, no, but at the same time, I'm still crying in my car after work, and I just...

And I don't...I don't feel comfortable unloading on people because it eventually (inevitably) will deteriorate into me just mostly feeling sorry for myself.  And no one wants to listen to that when they have their own, much bigger, more important issues to deal with.

I mean, you guys only get it because I treat blogs and the internet like my diary.  Which possibly isn't technically safe, but I mean it is what it is.  Eso si que es.  (which is SOCKS, by the way.  Thank you internet).

But in all honesty, I keep my feelings stuffed under a rock in my subconscious until something disturbs the rock, (like today) and I end up just not being able to can anymore.  And I'd love to be able to stop, but that's just not how I work.  It's never been how I've worked.  I don't even think anything could fix the way I work.  And it's fine.  It is, until it isn't and then it's done, and gone, and I shove everything back under the rock (I'm going to call it the Rock of Self Loathing because that sounds super awesome, like some genre of music or band or something) and pretend like my inferiority complex isn't as large as it is, and that my paranoia and social anxieties are just made up, and that everything is going to be hunky-dory as long as I just don't move the Rock.

Again, not healthy, but hey, what can you do?  And, after all, I do end up making it out okay in the end.  I just...I apparently have abandonment issues I don't really address very often, and when I do it's in tears, after something bad happens that's completely unrelated, usually in the car.

Whatever, whatever, I do what I want.

I'm gonna go now.  This...wasn't the original plan for this post, but...well...

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Dear People Who Read This Blog

I'm warning you now, this is going to quickly degenerate into whinging about my love life or lack thereof, so if you're not wanting to view that, you can leave now.  The summation of it:  I'm not going to whine about it anymore.  But I have to get through my brain's reasons why first so I'm doing it here.  To those of you still with me, I'm sorry your day is so boring that you're reading this, but thanks for bearing with me anyway.

There's this one guy, and you all know him. He's the one I can't make up my mind about.  NT, for Not Totally, or Never Time, or ... or a lot of things.

And, in my post about my celebrity crushes (BORED), you might have noticed that I tend to quickly attach and hold on, emotionally, even when time and time again I'm just completely done with the whole endeavor and want to move on, I still hold on just that tiniest little bit on the hope that maybe-maybe-maybe, etc, adn. (Remember how I'm making that a thing?)

And then, with the tiniest little hope buoyed on occasion, I am attached again to the point of near-obsession.

And this is just how my brain works.  It's why I don't really attach all that often anymore.  It's not that I can't, it's that I won't because I'm still already attached to so many people and already getting beaten to the point of "what's the point of holding on to it anymore, there's no reason" and still holding on with my last little feeler.  Because that's what will happen and I've apparently reached my limit and I don't think I'll go attaching anymore until I get over some of what I still hold onto.

I'm not...I'm not sure if I'm going to let go of NT yet or not.  I still...there's still some hope.  And it's the hope that keeps me going.  And don't be worried, if there is no more hope, I will let go.  I've done it before, I promise you.  But until then I think I'll always hang on just a little bit.

But I think you guys need a little back story before you go thinking I'm a complete idiot for holding onto this modicum of hope for a boy I'm not entirely sure whether or not he actually likes me enough to try for more and not doing anything about it.  Because I'm not going to, no matter how much I should.

Because I have already.  And it's this part that counters the hope and is starting to wear away at my last feeler of promise (that maybe should be capitalized. It seems like a pretty important position.  The Last Feeler of Promise.  I'll make it a book title one day, just you wait).

I've known NT for years.  Years and years and years.  And maybe it really hasn't been quite that long, but it FEELS like it's been years and years and years.  And when I was fourteen and he was fifteen I thought he was the greatest, coolest, most handsome thing since sliced bread.  And I crushed HARD.  I crushed hard enough to finally get over my first crush ever (which was about 7 years too late, honestly).

But I was NEVER confident in my looks or my personality or anything. Never have been and never will be, and for some good reason.  No one stuck around, or thought I was worth the effort of befriending and keeping a hold of and maybe just maybe wanting to try dating.  As a true romantic at heart, this was devastating.

I mean, I was only still friends with the few I had because they sometimes let me hang out with them.  I didn't have many friends, either.  And they all left eventually.

Except for NT.  Who did leave, but we still talked.  We were great communicators.  Hours upon hours of chats I saved for far longer than I ought to.  And I liked him so much.  (Okay, still do, still do.  All the things I say about NT I do still feel, thanks very much.  They're just tempered a little because I've forced them down for a few years too long).

And I thought...I thought he maybe liked me too, but then he got a girlfriend and I don't know the whys and hows of it all, but I know he got a girlfriend, and that it wasn't me.  And then, a few months into their relationship, I finally got up the gumption to tell him I liked him (over iChat because I'm a coward, let's not mince words here).  And he was like "Oh, I'm flattered, but, I mean, I'm taken already."  And I was like, "Well, fuck, let's ignore it then."

And we did, quite well.  And then he broke up with his girlfriend not long afterwards, and I was like "yes, this is my chance.  Wait just long enough for him to be over her, but not yet in another relationship".

And then he dated one of my friends.  I mean, she and I weren't close, but I was like, "Are you kidding me right now?"  And I ignored my feelings a long while more, and it wasn't like we stopped talking while he had these girlfriends.  We spoke for HOURS.  Just back and forth, mostly about silly random things, but what else do you talk about with your friends?

And then the two of them broke up (and I might be skipping a second confession of feelings.  Mind these are about a year apart or so, so I don't...don't really remember or I do and I've blocked it out because you can only handle so much embarrassment and humiliation).

And we still talked a bunch, and it was great, and as soon as I thought I was making some actual headway in finally getting somewhere with this boy, he dates my then best friend, RF.  RF, who knew I liked him.  He chose her, not me.  And it broke my fucking heart.

But I was going to be the bigger person, I was going to still be his friend and her friend, and it was going to work out, is what I told myself when we still talked with the level of intimacy about one another as we did.  And yes, that does have something of a double meaning.

I was essentially helping him cheat with my best friend, and it took me a year to realize this.

He went away to college and RF and I finished our first year of high school.  And they were still together for her first year of college.

And we still sometimes chatted in that exceedingly intimate way (thinking about how old I was when these conversations happened makes me cringe a little.  Like, no, 15-17 year olds should NOT be talking about that kind of stuff.  but that's just because I'm older now).  And then I started putting my foot down.  This was sometime near when I met GL and we became friends.  2010(11?)ish.

And it took me a really long time, even after that, to completely cut off contact, because we were still being inappropriate for a boy and a girl when one of them is in a relationship, and he was still in a fucking relationship with my former best friend.  Like, really?

So I cut off all contact.  Defriended him on Facebook, "Lost" his number, never went on iChat again, that kind of thing.

And I kept it up for a whole fucking year (2011, definitely 2011).  I didn't stop thinking about him, or wondering about him the whole time, but I wasn't going to initiate contact again.  I couldn't do it a third (fourth?  I don't know, too many times) time.  I couldn't put myself through the emotional turmoil.

And when my thoughts went from angry and hurt, but still fond, to a little bitter, but willing to be friends again, I added him back on Facebook.

We still didn't speak anymore, but now I could see what he was up to, and he seemed pretty happy.  I wondered for like five months whether he and RF were still together (I'd defriended her too, because I just am not that masochistic), but I didn't initiate contact.  I was determined not to.

Then, in December, I went to a concert my sister's choir was putting on for Christmas (and other wintery holidays).  And afterwards she was like "Yeah, NT is here."  And my heart started pitterpattering against my ribcage and I was like "What, no, he can't be?!"  And she was like "Yeah, over there." And she pointed and told me where to look but I am short, and I was looking for a man I had not physically seen in over a year and a half.

And I found him almost immediately.  I made her come along to say hello because I couldn't make myself do it.  If it were up to me, I wouldn't have done anything.  I would have walked right on by, blushing with my heart pounding, and he never would have even known I was there.

But I took KW with me, and we walked up and I tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned around and saw who I was his whole face lit up and he hugged me and, I'll let you in on something, blooger (Blogger, thanks...I'm leaving it in there because that was a hilarious typo and I almost didn't catch it.  You're welcome), he gives the BEST hugs.  Like, every time.

And then we caught up a little, and when I left I told him not to be a stranger.  And I was so glad I'd made an effort not to look like I'd had work that morning and was running on half an energy drink and hopes and dreams.

And then I broke my rule, a few days later, that rule where I do. Not. Initiate. Contact. Anymore.  I sent him a Facebook message, and because I am still all of 12 developmentally, I freaked out for like an hour before even composing it and for about 15 minutes before sending it, and then for the whole rest of the time after that before he replied.  I'm so dumb.  I swear.

And then he responded and we made arrangements for an outing.  And then we went on our outing.  Originally for coffee at a local coffee shop, but because I'm an idiot, I forgot to check their hours for the holiday season while all of the students are gone, so I get there and they're closed and I'm just like 'Of fucking course.  I try and make a good impression, try and get him to see what he's been missing by passing me up all this time, and I pick the one place in town that has delicious coffee and it's closed'.  But he was real good about it, he came and picked me up (because I'd walked because I could, because it was close) and we tried our next option, which was equally as closed, if not moreso.  And I was just like "I'm such an idiot" and he kept saying it was fine, but I really still don't think it was.  I should have been more prepared for these things.

So our third backup plan was we would try and find this Dunkin Donuts he'd been to the last time he was in town, and I was like "We have a Dunkin Donuts?"  but we found it in a gas station (which was fortunate because he apparently needed gas), and it wasn't shitty, and we took it back to my place because it was cold and there was no where to sit down any place convenient, and we sat on the couch-thing that is my bed (I have very little furniture, but it does convert into a couch-type-object to sit on) and watched Futurama and exchanged footrubs and backrubs because that's what I do for people I like. Friends, family, if you put yourself within reach of my hands, I will give you a foot rub or back rub.  He was just nice enough to return the favor (first time THAT's happened).  And I think I win but that's because I have magic hands.


What was the point?  Oh yeah, okay, so...I really like him, and he does things like the above and I feel like he likes me too.  We'll see each other when he's in town (sometimes), and it's always the same.  I can't believe no one can tell how fast my heart is beating, and he gives me the best hugs in the world, and then we leave and then nothing.

And I'm pretty sure at this point he just doesn't like me like that.  Which is fine, it's totally and completely fine.  But it sucks, because why is it I have to feel like this -- all this joy, elation, devastation, regret, pain, hurts, oh but it's so good -- when he pretends like I don't exist when I'm not in eyesight of him.  I mean, that's just what it feels like, I don't really know what he does or does not do, and I'm being very unfair, but it's because I'm hurt.  Which is no excuse, but other people get to use it, so why shouldn't I?

And I just...I want him to like me, I do.  But I don't think he does (no matter WHAT KW thinks she sees...she's equally romantic but she's wrong).  And I need to start accepting that I can't have him like that and we can be friends, and friends are fine.  Friends is just going to have to be good enough because I'm not...I'm just not subjecting myself to the psychological torture of having to go through telling him AGAIN that I do indeed find him attractive, and I would like it very much if he would just get a move on and ask me out for a proper date.  I will help plan it, but he has to want it to be a date, too.  He has to ask.  I'm not doing it again.  Not with him, anyway.  Because I can't do it anymore.

Your turn, babe.


I'm never going to whine about how blah blah blah no one likes me blah blah blah I like him blahblahblah I'm so lonely whaaaaaa again.  Because it's done.  I'm over it.  No more.

If you want to talk to me, just do it.  I'm likely not going to initiate contact with anyone for a while because I'm just...done.  The thought of it makes me mildly angry and more than a little nervous.

So yeah.  I'll talk to you when you want to talk to me, but not before.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Monday, April 8, 2013

Hello Monday, Haven't Seen You In A While

So I wake up this morning at 5, and I'm like "Really?  I have two and a half more hours until my alarm goes off.  PLEASE let me sleep some more."  And I fight the heartburn I'd apparently been battling all night but because I'd woken up now I had to notice it (my body hates me, luckily the feeling may or may not be mutual) and manage to get back to sleep.  My alarm goes off two and a half hours later and it was the hardest thing waking up and getting the motivation to hop in the shower (I'd sat down last night before getting a shower which was a bad thing because then I couldn't get back up to take a shower until this morning).  And when I finally did all of that, I managed to get dressed and make myself feel mostly alive for school this morning.  I walk out of the house, get in my car, realized I didn't have any cash anymore, so I couldn't grab a drink from the vending machines at school.  I debated stopping at Sheetz first, but I was like "Noooo, not quite enough time for that nonsense, better just get my ass to school" and I get here, and I rock out to "Build Me Up Buttercup" because I'm an awesome person, and you wish you knew me IRL.  I walk all the way up the hill, get all the way to the classroom and what do I find taped to the door?

"Oh hey, random student, your 9:05 class you woke your ass up for is actually CANCELED today.  We're not going to email you about it before hand, because that would have made it easier on you.  No, you get to find it out now, after you've already arrived at the school."

Needless to say, that's why you all get a post today.

And I still didn't get a drink.  I suppose when I'm done with this post, I could walk all the way down to the bookstore and see if they've got anything I can buy.  Or I can wait and hit up a fast food joint on my way back from my second class and not worry about that bullshit.


I attend this group on Sunday nights sometimes, and one of the "adult" leaders (older than the rest of the college students who attend.  He's a great guy) has asked us to, as a personal project, write down what we believe and why -- but to think about it, but do it over the next couple of weeks.

Like an essay thing.

And I'm like "Well, hell, I do that all the time" so...

What I believe:

I believe that the entirety of the infinite universe was created by a single, all powerful, completely omnipotent, omnipresent being whose existence we cannot comprehend with our tiny, finite minds.

Why do I believe that?  Because if all of this is an accident, what's the point of trying to save it?  And that's all the human race tries to do (when we're not trying to destroy it all).  We try and save the planet, the environment we live in, ourselves, the creatures we interact with.  If our purpose is to save all of that, we must have been given this purpose for a reason by something bigger than ourselves.

I also believe that we are a collective consciousness of all of the cells in our bodies.  Cells are living things.  They have their own agenda.  Some of them just choose to work together to create tissues and masses and living things bigger than themselves.  If you've ever heard the comment "Neuroscience is just the brain trying to understand itself," that's kind of where I draw that belief from.  Cells form little communities and as a community, they make decisions, and sometimes parts are hurt or hurting.  Sometimes you get bad cells and they wreak havok upon the community.  There's always the whole "Body of Christ" thing I was grown up with.

Every single person is part of the Body of Christ.  Some are good.  Some are bad.  We work together to form a consciousness, a comprehending of the God-being.  Some of us have some pretty whacked out ideas (not saying they're wrong, just not the accepted ideas of the entire community).  Some of us have very traditional views.  Again to go back to the cells:  We could consider cancerous cells to be the crazy-cult cells.  They're not "wrong" they just mutated into something that isn't accepted by the rest of the body.  And all the cells are different.  Some of them serve the same purpose (all your skin cells protect the rest of your organs from icky things that could infect it).  Sometimes they interact very closely, sometimes there's kind of a huge gap (the brain cells do not touch any skin cells, which personally I just realized).  But they're all important.  Some cells die, but they're replaced by new cells.

The community of your body -- the society, if you will -- grows in its knowledge of itself.  At first it's a bunch of like-minded cells who work together to create for themselves the differences that will make them a useful, functioning body.  Like a group of pioneers.

Oh man, this is getting intense.  Okay, best metaphor EVER.  Let me keep going over it to show you WHY.

We'll start with the egg and sperm cells.  You begin as two completely separate entities.  A single cell created by your mother, and several billion created by your father.  They're placed in the same environment and forced to coexist together somewhere with moderately habitable conditions.  A good number of the sperm cells die off because they didn't have anyone to shack up with and create a living space that they could survive.  The one sperm cell and the one egg cell that do (sometimes two of each, if you were a fraternal twin) find one another survive.  And then they start growing.  First there's just the two of them and they make a single cell with a full set of chromosomes and DNA, etc.  And then they start reproducing.  They create more and more cells that are essentially the same as them.  We'll say children with the same, completely flexible skill set (because that's how you are able to survive on the frontier, being flexible with your skill sets).  And then they start branching out into the different, more specialized skill sets.  Some become bone cells, some become skin cells, some become blood cells, you get the idea.

And only together with all of the different skill sets needed (think like, leader, doctor, brute force, etc.: walking dead, or an RPG game) can they become a functioning "society" of cells.  And they will grow and have more of those different skill sets.  And all of the things you experience in your life is the experience of the community.  Your consciousness (as I see it anyway) is the history of your body and how your society of cells handled whatever came your way.  And this is really, really hard for me to think about because we already know I have fourth-wall issues.  But I'm going to keep going because this is fascinating.

Just like the society we live in is the collective consciousness of what's happened to the human race since the beginning of time, and where we are now, how we think, react, etc, are the product of society's reactions to those experiences, good, bad or otherwise.

I hope this makes sense to everyone else and isn't just coherent in my head.  I will gladly answer any questions you have in the comments section if this isn't clear.

Back to the original subject, I also believe in fate, destiny, and the fact that there are certain events in life we cannot escape from, and this fate was set out for us by the all-powerful creator God-being.

I believe there is a certain extent that some people can predict the future, but because God created us to have the free will we all so firmly grasp to because we can't have someone control our every move, sometimes that future changes, and it depends on what we really want out of life.  And also because there are things that must happen to us to make us the people we need to be.

I also believe that we don't die until we have learned what we need to out of life.  That's why some people survive things that most other people wouldn't have, and why other people don't survive some things.  Why bad things happen to good people and vice versa, essentially.  Because bad people still need to learn, and sometimes people learn faster than others.  And also those events happen so that the rest of us can learn too.  We're learning.

Like...Like the story of "The Egg."  Essentially we learn from what we live.  Frankly I don't know if I'm gullible or just open minded, but I'm inclined to believe just about everything to a certain extent.  And certainly there are limits to how much I agree with this story -- the universe is infinite and we certainly aren't the only life forms, so the pool of experiences implied in The Egg is incredibly understated there, but I mean, other than that, it could be.

And if that's the case, where are we going next, was that created too, is this just universe-inception here and are we just going to keep being born?

Is the light at the end of the tunnel just the end of a vagina?  Like, these are things I seriously ask myself sometimes when I'm contemplating the existence of the universe and my beliefs.  I'd say sorry you have to listen in, but at least this is incredibly more entertaining and thought provoking than my usual self-deprecating whinging.

This is as far as I'm going today, because after a certain point I'm not entirely sure what I believe, and I start asking all sorts of really difficult questions, and they're mostly rhetorical because I'll eventually learn my own accepted answer someday.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Friday, April 5, 2013

Why I Was Almost Super Sad Just Now

So...a little while ago I cleared my browsing history and cache on chrome.  And I was worried I was going to have to try and remember my password when I logged in to blogger just now.

But I forgot one tiny detail:  My blogger account is linked to my Youtube account, which I logged into shortly after having cleared my history yesterday...

And therefore didn't have to type in my password.

OH! And I met a really nice person today!  I was outside trying to clean off the freak snowstorm from my car and a guy is walking down the street and I'm struggling because I'm an idiot sometimes and things just don't always work the way I really plan for them to.  So random dude -- we'll call him Afro because that's how he introduced himself, even though that's not his real name, but his initials were already taken on this blog, and since he's nice and I don't want to confuse you guys, Afro it is -- Afro asks if I need a hand.  I'm like "naw dude, I got this, I'm just dumb."

And he's all like "Gurl, I'm still drunk, I would love to help you clean off your car before I walk all the way across town."

And I'm like, "If you're offering, I won't be hatin'." So I pass him my car-cleaning-stick and let him at it.  Nice guy.  Pretty chill, very obviously still drunk/very seriously hung over.  I'm not judging, just giving you an accurate picture.

So then we finish, say our goodbyes and he's on his way and I start driving to school.  Then, all of the sudden it occurs to me, I've got loads of time, and he's going a very long way it looks like.  I roll down my window and ask if he wants a ride.  Long story short (too late!) he gets in and I take him home because it's the least I could do.  He did clear my car off for me, might as well give him a warm ride home so he could sleep off the night prior.

Anyway, yeah.  I personally think he's probably trouble because,'s me and that's all I seem to attract, (also, Facebook is very insightful for these things), but he was at least not an asshole about it.  Not an asshole while still recovering from a night of partying, anyway.

So...tonight I'm celebrating my 21st birthday...wish me luck?  I just have this feeling it's going to either be crazy and I'm going to be completely fucked up all night, or I'm going to have a nice night out with my parents and be totally boring and come home to pass out to Dr. Who or something (which might happen anyway, but in one instance I'll remember it, and in the other, I won't).

I'm super exciting.  You're all jealous, I know.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Whale Halloo Wednesday

Been making lots of oceanic puns recently.  Mostly over the phone texting connection due to the overabundance of marine emojis.  (And still no crossing of the fingers sign, and there have been several others that are very clearly absent).

Just deleted the whole post to rewrite it because I am not going there today.

My birthday is on Friday.  21 bitches!  I've even got plans and things.  It's going to be great.

There's really not much more going on in my life right now.  I received my first birthday present.  It's from GL: a flask with "FELIX FELICIS" and a description of what FF does and how it affects a person.  It's super amazing awesome and I love her.  THANK YOU BBY!!

And that's pretty cool.  uh...

I need to clean my room, but that'll probably happen never.

I'm getting behind (haha, getting, like I wasn't already there) on some schoolwork, but that's okay because it's moderately easy and I could get it done fairly quickly if I'd just actually do the damn work.  But alas, laziness attacks again.  Slowly.

Attacks might be a bit strong of a word.  Laziness ebbs into my life at a slow, leisurely pace, creeping up on me and smothering me with layers of procrastination, perhaps?  That one sounds more accurate.  We'll go with it.

I think that's all I'm going to say.  Mostly because if I keep writing, I'll just end up whining again, and that's the whole reason I deleted the first post.  You don't need to hear that.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,