Premeditated Misconduct

Sun, 26 Feb 2012 20:46:24 GMT

Ugh. Tom is appearantly having housing problems-- paint me surprised-- and is now texting me nonstop about how his ex-friend/landlord is such a basket-case angry bitch and how he's just going to live in his car because he can't take it anymore...and I don't give any fucks at all.

Like, I feel like I'm supposed to be concerned enough to at least call and find things out. But I don't feel that way. I feel fucking annoyed.

Partly, I don't want to be on the phone with Tom because he takes, ummmmmmm.... Uh. He, uhh, takes, like, ummmm, ahhh...fifteen, er, minutes to ahhhhhh, um, spit any-- um-- thing out. Which drives me goddamn psycho! Seriously. He can't talk at all without hemming and hawing and forgetting what he's saying in the middle of saying it. He's always done this, but it's been getting worse and worse.

And partly, I don't want to call Tom because I know that a) this is all going to be stuff any semi-functional person would have noticed was a problem or predicted could be a problem weeks ago, b) that his flaky behavior no doubt exacerbated his ex-friend's freak-out, and c) I will feel some level of sympathy for his ex-friend/landlord because when I lived with Tom I also lost my goddamn shit.

I am a fucking bad friend.
But honestly?
I don't feel anything just annoyed with him.
Even if I still had my own place, I doubt I'd let him crash on the couch longer than a few nights. He's go no where to go and practically no income and he can't seem to get his shit together at all. He used to be a weird person, but one that could, you know, manage to keep it together. Now he's one step away from left-wing terrorism, can't keep a job, can't keep a place to live, and has trashed two cars in under a month.

Lordy, Lordy.

In other news, my mother moved yesterday into a month-to-month apartment in Albert Lea. She says its a pit, but it'll do while she looks for something better. And her Wal-Mart made an exception for her, so as long as she can find an opening at a store up here, she's got a job.

comments

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 22:42:16 GMT

And now I've spent almost all of today's awake hours crying. Awesome.

On an unrelated and hopefully distracting note:

After reading Heller's Too Loud, Too Bright, Too Fast, Too Tight, it seems rather obvious that I do have mild sensory defensiveness.

( Processing... )

comments

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 19:23:57 GMT

So dealing with my mom is stressing me the hell out.

Up until November, there was no problem.
In November, she asked if she had to look for a two bedroom (for her and Zane) or a three bedroom (if I was moving in). I said, look at both and we'll go from there.

Then Jinya had a small meltdown over whether or not I was moving out, because if I moved out and was responsible for rent elsewhere, then I couldn't just pack up from there and move in with her whenever she got a house without dumping my share of the rent on my mom. And that meant that, effectively, she couldn't ever move out of this place because she couldn't do it alone.

Around December, mom mentioned that she was having a hard time finding places in Owatonna to rent. At that point, it was getting close to the move date but since she needed her tax return to move, there was still time. She also assured me that she really only needed me to move in for a few months, and then she'd have all the finances under control so I'd be free to move out and in with Jinya if I wanted.

In January, she still didn't know when she was getting her refund. Still no obvious signs of panic or worry about finding a place. At this point she mentions that Wal-Mart won't be transferring her, so she's moving without a job.

At the end of last month/beginning of this one, she had me go look at a house in Albert Lea, about forty-five minutes south of here. I looked and reported back, but she kept blowing off my evaluation of the house by just saying, "Could YOU live there? Did YOU like it?" I finally asked why that mattered...and realized she'd been assuming the whole time that I'd be moving in with her. In Albert Lea. And she was very, very unhappily surprised to learn that I did not want to move further away from my friends, away from my job, to a strange town that doesn't have resources I need.

At that point the fecal matter hit the rotating turbine.

Mom has now been having a two week long meltdown. She needs to be out of Kansas by the end of the month if she's moving, so now she's stressed out to the point of being incoherent. Every time I'm on the phone with her, she's freaking out, sobbing, or talking in that low, gravelly "I'M TRYING VERY HARD NOT TO LOSE MY SHIT" voice. I can't manage to engage her on any topic. All she says (in response to anything at all) is "Find a house. Find a place for me to live. Soon. I need to know if I'm moving. Any house is fine." Ever. That's all I get. If I mention I called someone, it's "That's fine. That house is fine" without knowing anything more about it; I looked at a house and told her about it and she asked if I signed the paperwork.

Problem is, she's still moving without a job.
Problem is, she wants to rent a house and not an apartment.
Problem is, most house rent starts at $1,000 per month. And that doesn't include utilities or things like phone and internet.
Problem is, as much as I want to not live with Jinya's mom, I still want to live with Jinya.
Problem is, neither Jinya (as much as she wants to move out and stay my roommate) nor my mother (despite how desperate she is) will even consider an apartment.
Problem is, I have less than two weeks to find my mom a place to live, make all the arrangements, and decide whether I'm moving or not.
Problem is, my mom calls me almost EVERY GODDAMN DAY FREAKING OUT.

I wish I would have known that... Well, it doesn't matter.

I'm probably going to take the small one-story behind Hy-Vee for $850/month and move out of here/in with my mom. It's really the best option-- the cheapest, but worth the money since the house is clean and well-maintained. All the other houses are at least $150 more in rent, and I'm trying to stay as low as possible. It's just across town, and it's only a few blocks from Jinya's job, so...

Oh god, I am so stressed out. I hate this.

comments

Random-- some TMI

Wed, 08 Feb 2012 23:14:12 GMT

-- I love my Drawer of Cords. It's for any electronics-related accessories like extra earbuds and iPod cases and crap, but mostly it's full of cords. An iPod cord, a phone cord, a Nook cord, a USB-to-wall charger, a... What are those jacks? The tiny, weird-shaped ones on phones and cameras and shit? I'm assuming that sort of plug-in has a name. That thing-to-camera, to-Nook, a few old P2-to-USB adaptors, a few extra mice, a stereo jack... The best part is that I can reach into the drawer and fish out the right cord without even looking. WTF, modern technology.

-- I am also amused at the fact that the few people I've mentioned Tom's grooming habits to all immediately flinch and start yelling really good advice. Even the ones with straight, thin hair and who aren't particularly invested in looking good start going, "...but, but, but!" within thirty seconds. Maybe Daysha's right: maybe I should pull together a basic care package of easy to find shit like conditioner and a nicer electric razor. I wonder if that would help, or if he'd just be like, "I don't need this!" and not use it. Hmm.

-- I'm pretty sure I really did lose my Nuvaring. To the best of my knowledge, it's, er, not where it's suppose to be. That's disappointing. I'm not sure if I should start a new one, or wait until next month now.
*SIGH*

comments

Freak of nature redeux

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 22:34:23 GMT

One of the major reasons I almost never self-diagnose* is because I don't remember many of my psychological quirks from childhood.

There are a few things I distinctly remember: always loathing the taste of toothpaste/mint, needing to be locked (lol) in the capped back of the pick-up truck to get away from my cousins because their constant presence when they visited would make me hysterical, general dislike of touch, dislike of and resistance to washing my face or hands (hi, germophobes!), pickiness in eating, an irrational and almost insane response to the sound of animals licking themselves, etc. But I can't be sure that most of my other vehement reactions to social situations or sensations isn't a development of adulthood. I just don't remember, and I have a strong impression of seeming to be a "normal" child. (Whatever that means.)

(The delayed sleep thing is definitely an adult thing. I usually went to bed by midnight when I was younger than 18 or so. However, this, like depression, can begin at any age.)

At the same time, there are things which I strongly abhor but which I will endure without comment most of the time. I'm pragmatic about what is expected and what I will have to deal with just as a course of living. I will eat food-- like fruit pie-- despite an initial gag response. I've successfully learned to tamp that down and ignore it. I've gotten really, really good at convincing myself to just put it in your mouth and swallow! (Heh. Go ahead. Make the dick jokes.) Taking a bite of a tomato is a test of willpower, but I can talk myself into doing it. In social situations, I attempt to seethe quietly...although I admit that I am not always as successful at that as I am at tolerating the taste of a free Thin Mint. I my not be able to stop the involuntary jerk of my shoulder out from under someone's hand, but I have no problem at all with handshakes. Close friends can almost always touch me without provoking any reaction at all. Sexual contact isn't just tolerated but encouraged.

Though I occasionally have mini freak-outs about being female-bodied, they're rare and I don't recall having any signs of being even remotely transgendered as a kid. Is this a sign merely that I want to be "special" or part of the privileged class (of men), a sort of internalized misogyny, or a result of contemplating that, while I think of myself primarily as "human", many people see me primarily as "female" and an overreaction in response?

Basically, I wonder: am I legitimately slightly weird in any of these senses, or am I as a normal person polluting legitimate problems other people suffer with my desire to have an "excuse" or be "special"? Am I a poser, or am I thinking too hard? WTF IS THIS MADNESS.

* The exception being the chronic major depression, which I walked into the therapist's office and promptly told the doctor I had-- correctly.

comments

Freak of nature

Sun, 22 Jan 2012 21:42:39 GMT

Perhaps it's proof that we've pathologicized-- that is not a word-- just about everything about being human, or perhaps just proof that I'm weird or maybe just the natural tendency to enjoy self-diagnosis*, but I have a strange love for finding things "wrong" with me.

I don't just have chronic major depressive episodes, but I have an overlap of atypical seasonal affective disorder. Summer, not winter, tends to trigger epic hurricanes of depression.

I am apparently more than just a night owl; I also have delayed sleep phase syndrome.

Take these two together and one might start assuming that I really fucking hate sunlight and the less of it I see the happier I am. This seems to be loosely true, though not usually consciously contemplated. But it's a fact that I even avoid bright lights when I can. I never use overheads; I use decorative voices and small table lamps and strings of lights to illuminate rooms. Soft, dim, warm light.

I'm an introvert. It took me a while to accept this, since I can be extremely chatty when I feel like it and occasionally lack an indoor voice. However, "when I feel like it" are the key words there; when I don't, then I really, really don't. Most of the time being around other people is draining and stressful.

Today I just learned that much of my light-related quirkiness, some of my introversion, and my dislike of being touched could be related symptoms of possible sensory defensiveness. Though I discovered this term while investigating whether or not it's "normal" for me to dislike being touched, I ping several symptoms on every sense list, not just the tactile one-- though that is the strongest category: dislike of touch (especially surprise touch), of kisses, of toothpaste (fuck that nasty shit), of face-washing, of rain, of getting sticky or dirty stuff on your hands, of standing near other people in line, etc. Interesting.

Proper mental preparation is crucial; I can handle more irritations and "last" a lot longer if I am prepared for things to be annoying as shit and take longer than they should. I am not the kind of person who will/can spontaneously decide to go to the club or out to the bar; I need to see that shit coming for a few hours. If I am dragged out without warning, I have a nasty short fuse that burns out quick, turning me into a terrible human being that's rude, snide, anti-social, prone to seething silently in between snarling like a cornered animal at people who try to talk to me.

I also have a tendency to look anywhere but at the person to whom I am speaking. I stare at the floor, the ceiling, that spot three inches to the left of them. If I become aware of the fact that I'm not looking at them, I have an internal freak out because I then can't look at them without feeling like I'm staring but feel really weird avoiding eye contact altogether. This is only averted if I am pissed the fuck off. If I am thirty seconds away from force feeding you your own face, then I make very unwavering, unbreaking direct eye contact.

...oh, and I also suffer from sidewalk rage. Seriously, if you're gonna fucking dawdle, then move to the side, asshole. Also? Escalators? Stand on the right; walk on the left. God DAMN it. IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING HARD.

* I do not claim to have any medical knowledge. These are not serious diagnoses as something I would ever claim without first being formally checked for them by a medical professional. (Ok, the major depression has already passed muster in this regard.) I am not a Special Snowflake.

comments

Moar Dragon Age

Sat, 21 Jan 2012 21:29:33 GMT

Nope, still not tired of my game.

Did my second complete play-through of Origins just for the DLC only available in game-- like Soldier's Peak and Shale-- and that was fun and interesting. Did more sidequests more competently. Every member of my party was pinged up at 100 Friendly or Love. I'm a little pissed that the Soldier's Peak sidequest gives you Warden Commander armor...that doesn't import into Awakenings, when you play the goddamn Warden Commander. I was super excited to have my armor... *whine*

Am doing a more thorough play of Awakenings now, of course. And yep, you know what? Knowing Anders' eventual fate is almost enraging now. That and all the hints and foreshadowing* are both creepy and sad, right from the moment that the Chantry sister yells about Anders needing to "face justice" and him snapping back that "they wouldn't know justice" if it kicked them. Even the moment before he does the Joining, when he comments that he better not wake up on a ship to Rivani in his smallclothes with a tattoo on his forehead becomes suspect once you see the Tranquil in DAII have forehead tattoos. Goddamn it, Anders. You were so cute and snarky and witty and fun and CUTE...
...and then you became a fucking ABOMINATION. GODDAMMIT, ANDERS. WHY DID YOU LEAVE MY WARDEN?! My Wardens have always been mages and they were nice to you, and then you went and did that. You could have had hot threesomes with my Warden and Zevran, instead of running off to the Free Marches where I use my Hawke to spite you out of sheer GODDAMMIT.

* Although there was a total LOL in Witch Hunt when Finn comments that the Chantry used to make the mages exercise outside once a week...until one of the apprentices jumped in Lake Calanhad and started swimming. Of course the Templars couldn't give chase with armor on. They found him a week later. Anders never did give up trying though, Finn mused while I laughed my ass off.

comments

Still on Dragon Age

Sat, 14 Jan 2012 01:12:26 GMT

So I managed to get ALL of the Origins DLC cheap, thanks to a bargain-basement price copy of Ultimate which included a pass code for all the Premium Content.

So I played Leliana's Song. Okay. Short, sweet, full of lesbian ~~subtext~~ text.

Then I went on to Witch Hunt.

First, my game had a bug where all the new characters were headless and wearing only underclothes. Which was bizarre.
Then they had heads but were still mostly naked. Distracting.**
And to top it off, I imported my character from Origins and not from Awakening, which meant he was only level 21 and didn't have all his Awakening stuff and specializations. This ultimately meant that basic dungeons were kicking my ass.

So I deleted that game, started anew, and made damned sure I got the right import.

Huh. Funny. The dungeons that took me a half hour at level 21 took me LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES at level 30. I literally walk into a room and KILL EVERYTHING. (It's the Battle Mage Elemental Chaos spell. Everything dies.)
Oh, and everyone's got their head and clothes now. Thank god.

I still have Darkspawn Chronicles and Golems of Amgarrak to play through, plus all the bonus stuff I can only access by doing a complete play-through of Origins again from start to finish. WHEEE, NON-REALITY I LOVE YOU!

* And now that I have two copies of Origins and Awakening, anyone want a copy? If you feel like paying the shipping cost, I'm really appreciative, but really? I'll give it away.

** Uncanny valley aside, I admit to being somewhat...enthralled with the amount of detail the designers added. As in, I can't stop staring at male crotches in their itty-bitty smallclothes, hung up on the fact that yes, indeed, some graphic artist made damned sure you could see the shadow of the cockhead. WTF.

comments

Jinya is Fluttershy.

Thu, 12 Jan 2012 08:14:02 GMT

I'm pretty outside the Ponies fandom-- mostly because of said fandom-- so I am just running my metaphor off of the impressions I've gotten. I expect to get corrected if I am wrong. In the meantime, bear with me.

I hear a lot about the ridiculous amounts of (border-line creepy) attention and fan-love that Fluttershy gets, even outside of the MLP fandom. Of all the Ponies, all the different personalities and appearances, apparently it's sweet, quiet*, pretty, feminine Fluttershy that so many Bronies go ga-ga for: "she'd be the "perfect" girlfriend or wife" seems to be the common theme.

Jinya is human!Fluttershy.

Not really. But close enough.

And all the men that get to know her lose their ever-loving minds in their attempt to date her, marry her, seduce her-- not for sex, but for...I don't know, a pet? There's a weird vibe to it; it's not just about the sex, but about the sense of possession, I guess. With most of the nicer men she knows, it's a low-key vibe; with the assholes, it's almost unbearable, like the Taos Hum cranked up a hundred-fold. But most straight male people who interact with her for more than a few hours seem to have some strange, almost instant attraction, affection, crush-thing on Jinya.

Me, they'll fuck. (Maybe. Some won't even do that. I've scared some off with my open kinkiness and others flat-out admit that they find me as appealing as three month old guacamole.) It's pleasant enough. I'm not one to turn down a roll in the hay with someone attractive and friendly. I'm not interested in marriage and kids, either, and I'm about as far from the concept of "romantic" as humanly possible.

But then I see men look at Jinya, the way they act around her. I don't know if I'm jealous or creeped out or both. It's not even like they even love her, but just the idea of her they have. And Jinya herself can't even function in a relationship. She flirts and flirts and FLIIIIRTS with people who are completely "safe"-- hundreds of miles away, in a stable relationship, etc.-- but basically flips her fucking shit when she tries to date. Everything Keith does drives her nuts. She can't stand him. But when Todd-- in Iowa-- says the exact same things, it's "cute". She can't manage even talking to Keith without screaming...but she's now flirting online with Mike, her previous boyfriend...who drove her goddamn crazy and who she couldn't even talk to when she was dating him without screaming.

Good grief.

Part of this is my increasing annoyance with being single for the last two years, and then having "not-dated" people who wouldn't admit they were with me and were always looking for something better than me even while they were with me for most of my dating years. It would be an interesting change to date someone who wanted to be with me, who wasn't looking to leave, and maybe-- just maybe-- who wasn't an ego-centric crazy person.

__
* Yes, I know Fluttershy isn't always quiet and perfectly sweet. Neither's Jinya. But in both cases, the flashes of backbone and anger are almost MORE endearing and cute because of the setting.

comments

Tue, 30 Nov 2010 20:21:16 GMT

Packed another 1,000 or so words onto this mess. It's a whopping 8 pages now! My goodness.

Hey, Oz, are you at all interested in reading/editing/co-writing/anything like that? 'Cause while I only have fragments of text and while I have no bleeding idea what all happens outside of a few select plot-points, I could explain everything I know about it to you and I would value someone else's input.

comments

Fri, 19 Nov 2010 22:47:24 GMT

Word Count: 3,560
That's 1,034 more than the other day.

comments

Sat, 13 Nov 2010 05:06:27 GMT

Word Count: 2,420
That's 536 more than the day before.

comments

Fri, 12 Nov 2010 03:52:19 GMT

Word Count: 1,778
That's 658 more than the day before. (I didn't touch it yesterday due to, you know, life and stuff.) This is like pulling teeth... Oh wait, no. Pulling teeth is way easier.

I began this chunk with a bit of dialogue that's been running around my head for a while now, and I know that, due to the type of conversation it is, this piece takes place in the middle/middle-end of the story. Yet because this is where I began writing and I'm not entirely solid on the plot, I'm describing and explaining everything in the scene as if it's one of the earliest to take place. It's a bit weird, but I guess the most important thing is to explain what I don't know to myself now while I'm writing and then edit around that later.

Also, I feel guilty over the fact that all of the characters I've mentioned so far are male. I don't want to change anything, but I acknowledge that this reveals a streak of sexism that is both obvious and vexing.

Ah well, it's not like anyone would read it even if I finished: it's cliched high-fantasy with bisexual kemonomimi characters, including the villain protagonist. ROFL, FAIL.

comments

Wed, 10 Nov 2010 05:02:31 GMT

Word Count: 1,120

Plugging away.

comments

Word Count

Tue, 09 Nov 2010 02:50:30 GMT

574, not including the 100 words of so that was pre-existing in the document when I opened it.

I don't know how long I will continue writing on this particular story. I may flip around and write various scenes and then see if I can string them together...or I may not.

comments

Inquiry

Sat, 08 Aug 2009 00:49:35 GMT

Is LJ completely down and out for everyone or what the fuck?

comments

Pipe Dream (1)

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 03:42:17 GMT

Sometimes, while watching the news, I fantasize about my own private reality television show concept.

The idea is this:

I want to invite politicians and pundits to come live with me for about three to six months.

I want the really stupid, the really arrogant, the really outrageous, the really ignorant. I want all the politicians and pundits we all most want to smack, the ones that make me (us?) headdesk violently time after time after time.

I want them, because I want to do a combination Big Brother and Nickled and Dimed.

The rules would be this:

They'd be allowed to have the exact same amount of money I have in my back account at any given point. So if I have only $3.16, then they only have $3.16. No exceptions, ever, for the entire period they are participating. If they can't afford food, they go hungry. Can't afford the car, they "lose" it (to the studio, at least). Get injured and can't afford a doctor... Well, I think you follow me.

They would have to "work" either my job or my roommate's two jobs. In other words, they would have to accompany us to our jobs for the span of our shifts. They would have to stand when we stand, walk for roughly the same time we do, and eat (more or less) when we do. When we get paid, they'd get access to an equivalent amount of money.

They'd have to do chores around the house. They'd have to "pay" a share of the bills: rent, electric, etc. They'd "have" student debt and medical bills. (Can't afford it? Have to default, and then suffer the phone calls from the "debt collectors" every day, the vaguely threatening letters in the mail.)

And they wouldn't get any expensive toys, just what we have: basic cell phones, a tv and dvd player, a PS2, a computer which sometimes doesn't work.

Basically, I want to set up a reality tv show/game that mimics my working poor reality.

And I want to watch the bastards squirm.

Oh, I want to watch 'em wriggle like worms on a hook.

Oh yes I do.

This will never happen, unfortunately.

This pipe dream brought to you by this heinous bitch and the letters "F" and "U".

comments

Trial Run

Wed, 13 May 2009 04:06:43 GMT

Testing.

Hello? Hello?

Is this thing on? Can anyone hear me?

Lyko, in and out!

comments