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Bess Jesse Alison Explodingdog Miz_a Gwenworld Savecraig cosmeticslog |
Shake it, Shake it, Shake it like a Polaroid picture
Last night, delirious from a lack of sleep from taying up late writing a mid-term and then being too caffed up to sleep, from drinking a couple of beers and feeling a bit more buzzed than two beers should normally make an alky like me feel, from playing a couple of slingo games, I watched the worst movie ever with Jesse. We decided to pick one from my father's collection as we lacked the fore-thought to pick one up ahead of time, and while I weas reading of the title like Indian Jones, Lord of the Rings, mafia movies, I came across one I had never heard of before. In the Mouth of Madness stood out as neither of us had ever heard of let alone seen it yet. There's a good reason for this too: it's horrible beyond description. I think there was a tremendous typo on the cover as "horror beyond belief" was clearly supposed to be "horrible beyond belief". This movie so so bad that I actually suggest that you loan it from me, if only to get it out of my house.
My younger sister painted the room I live in purple. It's one of two purple rooms with dark purple ceilings in the house actually. While it's a nice color and all that, when I took off purple duvet cover as part of my "cleaning" this weekend, I was refreshed by the yellow and blue flowers on the comforter underneath and was freshing. However, the comforter was once washed in a too-small machine so it has a few sewed-up places so it needs to be covered. And the blue and yellow pattern doesn't match the purple room. I now resolve to paint this room yellow as I need a yellow room. However, I have yet to seal my desk, to finish 10,000 crafts projects and have to work through the summer so wether or not I will ever paint the dark purple ceiling with colors that sothe my soul ever remains to be seen.
The very mention of his name, even if people are talking about his father makes my stomach turn. The slightest glance of a headline where his name is in 32 point font makes me become ill and light-headed. I dare to even write it down as it would be self-torture, but dancing around it is just a slower form of torture. There is only one news story I like to see less often. I'd rather read the obituaries over either one. The first is George Bush, the second is my family-relation / nurse-murderer. However, at least when it comes to Bush my parents and I can get a hearty laugh about it over coffee and fighting over the comics. There are still violent thugs and murderers in Iraq, and we're dealing with them. But no one can argue that the Iraqi people would be better off with the thugs and murderers back in the palaces. Reading whitehouse.org is relaxing. To be confused with whitehouse.gov. I joined a NCAA college basketball pool. This makes me feel secure. Whether it was sister and I placing penny-bets per-game or coming in the top-10 at work for 3 years, the NCAA bracket makes Spring all the more compelling. Even if I think the price-to-play was a bit steep and even if I filled it out completely drunk so that for some of the games I don't even recall who I picked ot win, I still ahve a chance of picking the right team. I only care.
I am doing Spring cleaning between the tasks I must get done by Monday. I am trying to make my environment smell like flowers and crisp linen. I want to feel constantly refreshed while I am stuck inside, watching the snow melt under Spring's welcoming sunshine.
I definitely have a problem with procratination and not taking advantage of time in the best way possible. I I know I am on "Spring Break" and therefore I shouldn't feel horrible about the fact that I haven't worked 24/ on school work that I want to catch up on. However, it's not Friday and there are still some pretty important things that I have to get done like the 6 to 8 page midterm and the fellowship application for next year that I have already harassed 3 people to get me recommendations on time. I am much better at getting other people to produce things for me than to get my own work done. I actually haven't done much socially, but this I blame the weather on and the fact that it's been snowing since Tuesday. And now that it is the weekend, the boy wants to do things but I have to finish all my work by Monday and feel as if I may have to spend the weekend working. I didn't even finish the handbag for my sister as I had intended to. It's that time when I wish that I wasn't in school. I have more discretionary time to decide what I want to do on a day to day basis, but a lot of that time has to be dedicated to schoolwork. When I worked 9 to 5 (or 10 to 6 or 7 or 8), I had the even and weekend free with no tasks taht had to get done short of obsessively cleaning a kitchen floor that would never really look white and clearing dust bunnies from under my bed. I only have a month and a half until the semester is over and then I'll be working someplace relevant over the summer for an "applied experience" that I'll have to write a paper about. At least then, I won't feel so guilty about fucking around on the weekends.
When Jesse predicted that the winter was over about a week ago, that we have finally made it through another winter and will be rewarded with the continual growth and amazement of spring. I, to be the contrary person I am, predicted that one day again it will indeed snow. I was joking and meant that it would snow again some time eventually, like next winter. However, it has obviously snowed so I take full responsibility.
I have completely sold out and am sold on my selling out. I am ashamed and walk with my head hung. I know I did wrong but I have accepted this. I downloaded iTunes. I have bought a handful of songs via iTunes. I placed music from my cd collection on iTunes. I made a birthday-present-mix using iTunes. I am a horrible person. Yet, I am proud of myself.
Maybe it's the fact that yesterday I was walkng on the broadwalk in Atlantic City in a long-sleeved shirt with the sun on my neck and today it is snowing. Maybe it's the fact that I wish the boy always knew the exact right thing to say at the exact moment I needed to hear it instead of "I don't know" and "I have nothing to say" in those tense moments while all the wonderful things come out when I'm watching dishes or otherwise distracted. Maybe it's because I allow myself to be easy on myself, all things considered, but then hate this just as much as being tough on myself. Whatever it is, I would rather not be right here now, but elsewhere where I have the time and space to wander outside and inside my head.
I cannot wait until Thursday afternoon. I cannot wait for my test to be done, my last two classes attended on Thursday so I can go to sleep. Not that I won't sleep in the interim but tonight I have a midterm to study for and tomorrow night I have a baby blanket to complete for a shower in the afternoon. My "Spring Break" will be seeing a movie with the boy on Friday, a weekend knitting and a quick trip to Atlantic City. Before it's even begun, I will be back to work. I am now all caffed up and in the process of studying. I maybe drank a bit too muh coffee as I ran in place for about 15 minutes, wondering why people use treadmills when running in place accomplishes the same thing. That and I'm all paranoid about sitting still for too long so I think the only way to keep myself alive and not get a blood clot is to do stupid things like jumping jacks and running in place at odd times and intervals. I am a stupid girl. When I couldn't get a hold of the boy tonight for a few hours after not talking to him the night before, I assumed that he was either dead or having sex with another girl. I seriously started to freak myself out, thinking about how he was porbably with another girl as Iwas typing up my notes for my test. I got in my car and went to his place and found him sitting at the computer, still in his work clothes, tie loosened after just having got home from a very long day at work. I am just that girl. Last night I had a dream that I had a little baby girl. She was amazingly sweet and cute with big eyes and brown hair. She had a name but I can't remember it know although when I woke up I recalled her name and thought it was nice, but nothing that I would ever chose.
I have waited for hours on end twice this week, believing that the bitchy middle aged lady I am working with would actually give me feedback. I wait until the 11th hour, or 11 pm, to finally send my stuff to the professor, with no reply / feedback from her. I know that he prefers to get things earlier, especially since he had to work the primaries tonight, but I actually believed she would give me feedback. What, then, is the point of me helping her out?
Spring break is next week. This should sound exciting, it should be the time I go on road trips. It should be the time I go to some beach-town with my drunken sorority-sisters and try to track down the people who film those titty-flash videos they sell on television. However, it is actually going to be Spring "if I didn't have this week without classes there is no way I would ever get to finish everything I have to because suddenly, the semester is half over" Break. I don't know how to study for a test. I haven't taken a test since last century! I have one on Wednesday and I am going to have to get it together. The worst part is that the professor is also my boss so I feel obligated to do extra well on top of my already over-achieving tendencies. Which is clearly why I came home from school today a took a nap, ate dinner, talked with my family and Jesse, went to go buy scratch offs, played the scratch off games, straightened up my room, knit a little bit, looked at my pores in my 5x mirror, contemplated a chemical peel, ad procrastinum. And I'm totally smoking cigarettes again because I am a weak person. The never ending struggle to quit smoking is so much better to put my energies into than stressing out about problems I have that I could never possibly fix; things that have made me who I am, good or bad. My ex-roommate is full of shit. I have tried to continue a friendship since he moved out. He seems to always be free when he is fighting with his live-in girlfriend. He seemed freaked out when hung out with me and the boy. He says he'll call to let me know when he is free next week, but that never happens. I really don't know why I bother. But then I start thinking about all of the things he knows about me, all of the fun times we shared and I then I call him. And feel like an idiot when he never calls and I remember everything he's done that made me feel that way and the fact that he's frequently been a crap friend. This too is a better thing to focus on than those thind that I cannot change. My computer is finally looking not shiny and new. There is dust and crud and things that let me know it's been used. I still have the plastic on the top that it came with. I'll peel it off one day when it get cruddy looking. new things never look as comforting as those that are gently used.
This concludes procrastination effort #2,673
Has the drama ebbed with age? Have I become more immune to it all? Or am I just so aloof that I don't know how to over-react any more?
On Friday, the boy and I went to Atlantic City. I felt terribly sad for a while about the news I had received at the end of last week, wondering if it meant I would never have big headed Irish babies. I remembered all the panic attacks I had last Spring that made me go into therapy again until my health insurance ran out where I finally met a therapist that wasn't some snobbish hack-job. All of these panic attacks that involved me frantically talking long walks, riding the boy's stationery bike for several hours and so on were based on some "irrational" fear of getitng a blood clot and dying. I was in therapy trying to show myself that I shouldn't be afraid of these things. But, in the end, I kind of have justification. I lost the money I had taken out. I had a set limit of the amount I was willing to lose, but I never thought I would actually lose that amount. I did. And then I pouted for a while, saving my last $20 for the morning with the belief that I woudl win right before we were leaving. I lost that too and had to scrounge around for change to buy coffee at the Wawa for the ride home.
But I found out that the boy's favorite Muppet's characters are: Let me share some of the recent lessons I learned about life: Not to get too personal, but I must share how annoyed I am with prior doctors. I always expressed concern about using traditional birth control pills because of a family history of blood clotting problems, including the fact that my mother had a pulmonary embolish when she was on birth control in her early 20s. This fact sticks in my mind always because my mother stopped taking birth control pills after the embolish and, home on bed-rest after leaving the hospital, got pregnant with me. In my mind, this problem is pretty much related to my very existence. What if she did not have this problem, how long would she have stayed on birth control? Would I have been born? What was a bad thing led to a good thing. (I would personally say a splendid and wonderful thing.)
So back to the reason why I am annoyed. . . Finally, I met a doctor that listens to your worries and she suggested I be tested first to see if there was any genetic predisposition for blood clots before putting me on any type of hormones which have the tendency to increase one's risk of forming clots. Given the fact that I am bothering to write about this, it means I do have this predisposition which means traditional birth control pills aren't right for me. I don't have anything serious to worry about until I want to have kids, which we all know will be in about 1,000 years from now. But it really gets to me that these other doctors told me not to worry. These other doctors acted like I was making it all up and was just a hyterical female, even if they themselves were females. I stopped taking the pills because I did not like them, even thought the doctors told me I was "just adjusting". I am really pissed off that so many doctors are so egoistic that they refuse to listen to a simple complaint. Thankfully, I found the right doctor who listened.
Which takes me to one fact that I am fully aware of: I am ALWAYS right.
Last night I went to the big exciting basketball game. I was sitting so close, I could see the steam coming out of their noses as it was quiet cool that far down from the ice that is under the basketball floor (for hockey). I was sitting so close that I could hear the curse at each other. I was sitting so close that I realized how rough they really play. I was sitting so close I had to look up to find out what the score was when I remembered this so a competition for points rather than some face-paced entertainment-for-Taratainment-sake game. I was easily the best sporting event I have even been to. I encouraged the boy to go about trying to get these company kick-back as often as possible as I will always go even if I have an exam the next morning. If excitement has a smell, I stink of it.
I continue to have problems with the "oh, I have children so I deserve preferential treatment" / "oh, I can't wait around school for a meeting because I have kids but you can obvoiusly inconvience yourself by coming down here on a day you don't need to because you don't have kids" woman. (edited rant) People really piss me off.
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