I decided I needed to take my pants off. It improved my disposition greatly.

I’m just a regular woman, living in Michigan, 22 years old, 2 cats, there’s nothing extraordinary or fantastic about me, so I assume that my thoughts can’t be too exciting to anyone other than myself. But that’s quite all right, because this blog is first and foremost, for myself and nobody else. This will hold the chronicles of my boring life as I try to change myself for the better, I’m hoping to write every day, or every other day at least, but we’ll just have to see.

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Location: Grand Blanc, Michigan, United States

Thursday, August 03, 2006

The little things...

It really is the little things in life that make you feel warm (Scratch that, warm is bad right now) and fuzzy.

My mom came over at about 10 in the morning while I was still asleep. She woke me up to show me a couple things she had gotten at the store for me. Prilosec OTC, because the insurance won’t fill my prescription for Nexium, a package of gerbil treats, a jar of peanut butter, and a package of mousie toys for Kage.

The mousie toys hit me in the heart the hardest. See, my brown tabby cat, Kage (Japanese for shadow, because he followed me incessantly when I got him), is a mousie connoisseur. He only likes a certain type of mousie, and will play with nothing else. The mousies have to be made out of real fur; he does not play with synthetic material. In addition they have to be basically a hollow plastic tube or ball filled with what I like to call “Shakies”. Since he plays with them so often, he wears them out, and recently I realized he had ripped fur off of and broken most of his mousies. So we hit the grocery stores, the pet stores and only found a package of far smaller mousies that were made out of fur and feathers, but they just weren’t the same.

The package of mousies my mom brought me today is EXACTLY the same as Kage’s favorite. On top of everything else, they cost nearly 7 dollars, but she bought them for my baby. That was a great thing to have in the morning, I promptly went back to sleep, but when I opened up the package and gave a mousie to Kage, the look in his eyes was worth it all. He KNEW that those were his favorite.

Moving on, the weather is completely ridiculous. Bring me a republican, better yet, bring me Bush, so I can shove his face against the asphalt and ask him if he really things that Global Warming is a democratic conspiracy. I got the mail today, and then hiked the rent check up to the front office. It took maybe five minutes and it felt like an HOUR. The heat and humidity is so oppressive that not only did it feel like walking through hot soup but after that 5-minute trek there and back I was COVERED in sweat. I don’t even get this sweaty walking a mile on my treadmill.

Hopefully mom will show up tomorrow to go to the grocery store and get a few necessities. I’m out of relish. No, see, this is a necessity because I can’t use all the tuna fish in my fridge if I don’t have relish to make tuna salad…basically what I want to get at the store is relish, ice cream, and eggs. There’s a lot more I could buy but I don’t get food stamps until the 7th. So I’ve gotta live off of what’s in the fridge until then. I can survive! Soup, noodles, tofu! In all actuality I should buy more tofu…ah. Anyway.

I'm addicted to Hawksley Workman, thanks Trish.

No muscle man, no candy cane
No pack of sexy starving wolves
No money talking, moonlight walking
Lady shocking, big crow cocking
Those ladybugs can go to blazes
Here and there go pretty faces
All of this don't mess my stuffing
Only one thing got me huffing

I'm jealous of your cigarette
And all the things you do with it
I'm jealous of your cigarette
And the pleasure that you get from it
And not me
All this time your talking no

No king, no prince with gold ring pinky
I suggest that we do something kinky
No pilot flying private plane
To smooch you on the hills of Spain
No catapult to all night kisses
That old thing just always misses
All of this don't mess my stuffing
Only one thing got me huffing

I'm jealous of your cigarette
And all the things you do with it
I'm jealous of your cigarette
And how you wanna suck on it
And not me
All this time your talking no…

Sunday, July 30, 2006

On music, and the other things vital to life.

Not entirely much has been going on lately, but I just haven’t felt motivated enough to write. I went to see my pdoc on Friday, complained about the PMS but he didn’t do anything to help me with it. If it’s just as bad next month I think I’ll complain again, I shouldn’t have to suffer a week of symptoms if I don’t have to.

I’ve been roleplaying pretty steadily, Kinny’s showing up every day. We got about 6 hours in yesterday before her nephew started acting up. He’s having “emotional problems” that her brother is instigating. Depression runs in her family, both her and her nephew are diagnosed with it but the nephew is not taking medication. She’s going to try to get him to a therapist but if his father is doing things to antagonize and trigger him it doesn’t really seem like it’s going to work itself out well.

Oh well, it’s not my business even if we’ve been friends for 4+ years; we don’t do a lot of talking about our real lives but we’re friends all the same.

Other than visiting the pdoc I haven’t really been doing much. Money is tight so I went grocery shopping once recently but the cupboards are getting pretty bare. Not really, I’ve got loads of food in the cupboards but I’m kind of hurting for protein. I’m going to have to cook up that tofu pretty soon as I’m just running out of other things to eat. I’ve got plenty of frozen stuff, lots of veggies, a couple healthy choice meals and a bag of “Steak Teriyaki” but what do you do if you don’t feel like that? Just eat it anyway? Blah.

The move back to my mom’s house is concrete now, at the end of September I’m going to be moving back into my old room. I’m trying to tell my mom that she’s going to have to get the internet turned on at least two days before I move back in, because god forbid she has me stranded there for a week or something without the net. Comcast is always fucking slow too, so she’s just gotta make sure it’s set up. I’ve also informed her that I’m going to need a space heater for the winter, and she’s all “We’ll see”. I run way colder than my mother does, she keeps the heat at 72 in the winter, and that’s not even warm enough for me in the summer. 75 is a good baseline temperature for me, warmer is fine in the winter, but rarely in the summer.

I’ve discovered a load of new music lately, through the magic of Pandora and my friend Tricia. AFI, Alien Ant Farm, Coheed and Cambria, Crosstide, Death Cab for Cutie, Desole, Feeder, Forgive Durden, Franz Ferdinand, Hail Social, Hawk Nelson, Hawksley Workman, Idlewild, Katatonia, Kevin Devine, Kill Hannah, Love Equals Death, Motion City Soundtrack, Panic! At The Disco (My new favorite), Powderfinger, Sanctus Real, Scars of Life, The Like Young, The Raconteurs, and Violet Nine. I love music; I eat it up like popcorn. 85 gigabytes of music, 85, that’s fucking crazy. 48.5 is all Japanese. 32.8 is in English and the other 3.7 is random soundtracks and stuff. Sheesh, crazy.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Oh I'm pissed.

I think I’m PMSing. This is the biggest difference between a man and a woman with bipolar disorder. When on the right medications, when feeling well for a long period of time, the man does not have to worry about the “monthly curse” hitting him and making all the progress they have made go to hell.

Why is it that science hasn’t come up with a safe way of alleviating this hell for women? Not only is there the indignity, discomfort, and just plain disgust of bleeding from your vagina for 3-5 days a month, sometimes accompanied by debilitating pain similar to labor. But there’s the mental breakdown. I’ve been fine all month, I’ve been energetic, I’ve been happy, and I’ve felt GOOD. But no, nothing gets to fucking last.

Yesterday I was manic, I was clenching my hands, getting up and walking around, eating everything in sight, and wanting to kill everyone. I screamed at my PC, I glared at my cats; it took everything in my power not to tell my best friends and mom to fuck off when they talked to me. Today I just feel shitty, I want to go back to bed and I don’t want to do anything at all. I just want to scream, break things, and eat. And I don’t even really want to eat. My stomach is growling and I just want to yell at it.

Why is this still happening? Why do I have to suffer with erratic moods and debilitating pain? Sure, there are birth control protocols that can make you have between 0-4 periods a year, but those are of course accompanied by all the normal risks of birth control; blood clots, stroke, heart disease, etc. So I can get on one of these, not that I need birth control mind you, I don’t fucking have sex with men. I don’t have sex with anyone. It’s been four years since that, and over 2 since I kissed anyone. So I can get on birth control for no reason other than alleviating my stress, pain, and indignity of being on my period, only to expose myself to many potential health risks.

You know what my theory is?

Men like knowing that we’re the “weaker sex”. For the same reason that they try to make us disappear by making us obsessed with our weight and dieting. They might hate dealing with us when we’re in our hormonal straightjacket of menstruation, but in the back of their mind they’ll snicker and say, “See this is why a woman can never be president, they’re completely irrational. This is why men are better than women, this is why we’re stronger and superior.” Oh and of course there’s the companies that profit off of us. Pads, tampons, midol and pamprin, even heating pads specifically designed to have on your belly when you’re having cramps.

This is insane. We shouldn’t have to deal with this. I should be able to have my bipolar stable and BE stable the whole goddamned month. Someone remove my uterus, throw it away I don’t need it. Throw it to the dogs. Whenever I hear someone talking about the “miracle of childbirth” and how it’s so empowering as a woman I want to shake them by the shoulders and ask them if the epidural has addled their fucking brain.

There is no pride in being female, there is only burden.

Another thing, gynecologists. This godforsaken society is so advanced that we can give people robotic limbs when they lose one, but the only way to make sure a woman is healthy is to put her on a bed, legs akimbo, and stick your hand inside of her. No. This is not right. Not right at all. Stop working on computer animation and diet pills, stop making exercise equipment and Hollywood movies.

FIX US NOW.  

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Fin~

I don’t normally FINISH roleplays; I get bored with them and start new ones somewhere in the middle. Kinny and I pretty effectively ended one today, the story of Mina Orcot and Jack Sparrow. He finally decides that he should no longer dwell on Elizabeth Swann, realizing that Mina’s willingness to love him, and her strength of will was worth more than the memory of a woman who was already taken. Before they could live happily ever after though, they ran into Mina’s father, who appears to be the devil in a man’s skin. With half a dozen rifles pointed at his chest, Jack convinces him that if the only problem was the matter of dowry (Mina had been set to marry a Frenchman when she was “ransomed” by Jack) that he would more than double the offer. He buys her freedom, and they do indeed live happily ever after.

It was a long RP! I have 13 saved logs from Yahoo Messenger, and they’re all very long. This of course by no means is the end to my roleplaying. Tomorrow we will start anew. This time I’ll be playing the eccentric and fearless Victoria Anne Merrick.

The Prologue~

The air was fresh and clean, and the blue summer sky seemed to go on forever in the bustling city of Port Royale. Businessmen, paupers and everything in between swarmed the streets like water through a stream. Merchants in charming shops and sparse stalls hawked their wares, fresh fruit, fine clothing, jewelry and necessities.

Every city has its characters, and this one is no exception. From the noblemen in powdered wigs to the shady yet interesting characters lurking in the alleys, Port Royale was ever the interesting place to be.

Atop the slanted roof of a tavern sat one of these characters; a young woman in man’s dress, a three cornered hat pulled low on her face. Victoria was a newcomer to Port Royale and if you didn’t look twice you could mistake the small woman for a young man.

If your eyes were deadened by drink, or weary from work, she passed incredibly well. However if your mind was sharp and your eyes critical, there were many flaws in her appearance. Her hips were too wide, her waist too thin, even under the trousers, billowy white shirt, vest and jacket. The girls face, though she was not stunning, was still very lovely, too soft and sweet for a man.

As she sat jauntily atop the roof (and who knew how she had gotten there), she removed a small and delicate pipe from her jacket pocket. Striking a match against the bottom of her boot, she placed it between her lips and lit the tobacco inside. Under that hat there were striking jade eyes, that watched the people below with a sharp interest.

Slowly drawing the acrid smoke into her lungs, Victoria’s eyes lit on a commotion. One hand holding the pipe deftly, the other slid the tri-corner hat off of her head, resting it on her lap, a waterfall of tawny brown hair falling over her shoulders. The girl’s skin was tanned, a fine golden color of someone who spent their time outdoors in the sun. Pleasantly shaped but wind-chapped lips came down again on the pipe as she watched three British soldiers in their red coats surrounding a man…


/end non-real stuff.

Today I fried up my tofu, although it's not actually FRYING. I put it in a pan with a tiny amount of oil and cook it. Is that considered frying or sauteeing? I love t0 cook but some of the terms elude me.

I took my walk again today, 24 minutes, one mile, 2.5 miles per hour. Mom called in the middle of it, just to call, because that's just how she is sometimes. She had called three times before I heard the phone ringing, because I listen to music when I'm walking. It was dumb luck that the song turned off right when she called. I'm sure if I hadn't answered after 3-4 more calls she would have come over. She's riduclously paranoid about me. She's worried I'll fall down at hurt myself and not be able to reach the phone. I'm 22! I'm more resiliant than that!

But yes, day was good. Had tofu, did much roleplaying. Must sleep now.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

For lack of anything else.

La la la, haven’t really accomplished much other than squeezing tofu, doing the dishes, doing some roleplaying, playing Zoo Tycoon, and walking on the treadmill.

I’ve been ok.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

So THAT'S why the rum's always gone...

After nearly a week of absence Kinny has showed up, much to my relief. It turns out she had gotten a nasty summer cold and has been under the weather for the entire week. I had a feeling that something was wrong, she just doesn’t up and disappear like that.

I feel very relieved, doubly so that she felt good enough to RP with me.
I almost feel guilty about asking her to roleplay, but in the end I know it’s not just for me, she wouldn’t have been roleplaying with me for 3 some years now if she didn’t enjoy it too. I of course made it perfectly clear that if she wasn’t feeling well enough that we didn’t have to roleplay.

So mom and I went out to see Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest today. She showed up at 11:00am, even though we were planning on seeing the 2 o’clock show. I woke up at 11:30, and heard someone moving around, so I couldn’t fall back to sleep. She braided my hair, and I put on my tank top with the skull and crossbones on it, because I don’t yet have my “Sparrow’s Wench” t-shirt. We buy tickets at the theater, she puts about a gallon of butter on the popcorn (and on her hands in the process) and we sit down to watch.

The previews are terrible, not one good-looking movie in them. Hollywood’s going downhill, granted, it has been for years. The movie itself was good, but pretty long. 2 hours and 30 minutes is a lot when the theater is the average temperature of Antarctica. I liked the movie, mom liked the movie, and the rest of the theater seemed to as well. It’s always cute when people clap after movies.

At home, nothing’s very exciting. I chat with Rachel and Hikari, I look around for people to roleplay with and come up empty, doesn’t matter much anyway I think, I need to be patient and be very happy with the ones I have. Besides, Kinny and Tricia are the best, regardless of the duration between posts, between RPs, or whatever. They’re my friends, I feel a little guilty about trying to find new people, I haven’t acted this desperate in MANY years. I blame the movie, that’s gotta be thing, blame something other than boredom. As Rachel says, “I hate boredom, it’s so boring.”

I did manage to walk on the treadmill today, even though sitting in the theater for 2.5 hours had made me a little sore and tired, only 15 minutes but it’s good for me to stay in the habit. That’s all for now. I’m still roleplaying and watching Ghost Hunters; good end to a good day.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Motivation, it's a beautiful thing.

I used to really identify with these lyrics. I still love them, but I no longer feel Rob Thomas is singing words that I wrote...

Could I Be You
Something is wrong with the sum of us
And I can't seem to erase
How can I be the only one
Without a smile on my face?

When now...
And you're laughing out loud
At just the thought of being alive
And I was wondering could I just be you tonight...

You show your pain like it really hurts
And I can't even start to feel mine
And I'm standing in place with my head first
And I shake and I shake
And I see your progress stretched out for miles, and miles

And you're laughing out loud
At just the thought of being alive
And I was wondering could I just be you tonight...

This is the sound that I make
These I words I chose
Somehow the right thing to say
Just won't come out...
Just won't come out...

And you're laughing out loud
At just the thought of being alive
And I was wondering could I just be you tonight...
And I was wondering could I just be you tonight...


One lone little musebunny hopped out from under the couch and sat on my head for a little, long enough for me to write a page of something that's not really relevant to anything. At least I wrote. I would write everyday if I really had the capacity to. It would all be drivel and floof but I’d still write. Might be the obsessively dark love poetry from years ago, or yet another beginning of a story that I’ll never finish…But I’m happy to have written.

I woke up in a state of complete and total lack of focus. Mentally and physically. My eyes wouldn’t focus enough for me to read, and even when they did I couldn’t digest the words. Cobwebs and labyrinths, they are in my eyes; too fine to hold, too hard to comprehend.

Despite this lack of concentration I’ve gotten loads done today. I unloaded the dishwasher, rinsed the dirty dishes, and tossed them in. I folded some towels that needed to be folded, I’m halfway through painting my nails black. Well, more like, 3/4th of the way. My right hand needs a second coat, it’s always the hardest one, me being right handed.

On top of all this, I spend 30 minutes on the treadmill. I was completely intending to only spend 20, but it was just easy enough to go to 30 today. I walked just over a mile.

Although, I’m afraid I might be a little manic. I can’t tell. I have an odd feeling in my chest, my heart seems to be beating too fast, and the ativan I took didn’t make that go away. I have a lot to say, I feel good, I feel satisfied, yet I can’t concentrate hard enough to read a news story or a page of a book…I’m not entirely sure if I just feel good, or I might be slipping into hypomania. I don’t know if I’ve ever had hypomania before. I do recall feeling really good, and having my mom tell me to calm down because I’m just talking too much.

C’est la vie! If this continues, and becomes uncomfortable, I'll talk to my pdoc next month.