lykomancer: (Sleep is important for heroes)
It's five am; I am simultaneously role-playing kinky smut with [ profile] absolut_artemis, reading Henry David Thoreau, and playing with my ferret. Now there's some multi-tasking.

It occurs to me that I should write something for [profile] hyakudai. I've been soooo slacking on writing anything for the community, and I still have all those drabbles to work on (that I haven't forgotten about, I promise!), and I have my own projects I want to start... I'm torn between writing more, just pounding the keyboard until I am foamy with sweat like an exhausted horse, and taking a hiatus to read and chill and let things stir around in my mind. Toss in some new ingredients and let things dissolve and coagulate. ^_^

I wish LJ allowed you more icon space than fifty slots. Stingy bastards. I have pretties and I want to use them.

Wendy and I should never be allowed to go yard-saling together. We end up with bags and bags and bags of stuff. Ok, granted, a good lot of it is useful and/or stuff we need, but still...

Rereading "Life Without Priciple" makes me feel so much better about being unemployed. I knew I loved Thoreau for a reason, but it's been so long since I read his stuff I had forgotten all but some snips of "Civil Disobedience" and Walden.
If I should sell both my forenoons and afternoons to society, as most appear to do, I am sure that for me there would be nothing left worth living for. I trust that I shall never thus sell my birthright for a mess of pottage. I wish to suggest that a man may be very industrious, and yet not spend his time well. There is no more fatal blunderer than he who consumes the greater part of his life getting his living. All great enterprises are self-supporting. The poet, for instance, must sustain his body by his poetry, as a steam planing-mill feeds its boilers with the shavings it makes. You must get your living by loving.

I got my financial aid award letter for this upcoming school year yesterday. My, my, that was a loverly number-- quite large. Five digits, in fact. I can't wait for September to get my hands on half of it, and then I can stop worrying about shit because I will, once more, have the power to make sure that my household runs smoothly, bills paid on time and cupboards stocked, instead of relying on my roommates. When I yelled at Tom the other day, one of the things I mentioned was that, while it wasn't right or fair of me to tell him or Wendy what to do with their paychecks, at least when I had money I made sure that the rent was paid and that we had groceries in the house; now, I noted, I'd been out of cash for about a month and three/quarters, and the we were behind on rent and no food had been bought since the end of May!
And my therapist wondered why I had control issues... I have them because no one else does! If I don't take charge, I swear t'God, it all goes to hell! *flails*

Soooo sleepy... *yawn* I should go to bed... My pillows, they call me in sweet, seductive song...
lykomancer: (Run to ease the ache)
Things around here run on a wave.
They are down, down, down, then gradually pull up, up, up, and then sink back down, down, down. Lather, rinse, repeat ad nauseum.

When we have money, things are good.
As long as Jess doesn't fuck up, it's all fine.
Realistically, I wonder if it's related to the cycling hormones in the house.

Things don't center around me. I know that. But it certainly is far from helpful when I blow my top at something, or camp out in my room refusing to acknowledge anything outside of it, or when-- like now-- I've stretched my limit on my cash.

Sorry. I'm still a little irked at Tom for chastising me for suddenly announcing that I'm running low, and telling me that I shouldn't have spent money on the few really pricey things I bought lately.
I'm the one who paid for his January rent.
I'm the one who paid to get Wendy's car out of the garage.
I'm the one who gave Wendy gas and lunch money to get to work and not starve while there.
I'm the one who has bought the last like, four or five really BIG grocery purchases over a hundred dollars.
I'm the one who offered-- though it didn't need to be followed through on-- to pay for Jen's passport.
Who's paid for the electric and internet bills since we moved in here (excepting the start-up fee for the 'net-- that was Jen)? Me, 'cause I said I would.

I'm not trying to sound like a martyr.
I'm just trying to put things in perspective.
After all that other stuff, I refuse to feel bad about buying myself a pet. Or a few other things that make me happy. I think that it is ok of me to dare to spend money on stuff solely for Jess sometimes, in addition to all the cash I've kept throwing into the household budget to keep it lubed and smooth.


Ok, I'm done being cranky now.
lykomancer: (I hate all you people)
I'm writing this because I have had to yell it at, like, three people in two days, and, becoming frustrated at needed to reiterate it over and over, have finally decided to just take my own advice in a semi-public-ish forum.

This is the essence of human relations, the building blocks of society, and (according to Michele Small) one of the main features of humanity that distinguishes us from other species.
And now, you might think that if something were this important, that most of us would be good at it.
In my experience, most people are trained out of good communication skills throughout their lives; they are indoctrinated in every form of deception imaginable, their tongues reined in, and a deep-seated fear of rejection and/or humiliation and/or appearing gullible ingrained.
It seems that we are taught that it is better to be a doormat than speak out for our own needs and desires, and that's not right.
It seems that we are taught to deny ourselves rather than acknowledge how we actually feel.
Smile falsely rather than show that we are displeased, disagree, or do not feel the same as the others.
Bite our tongues and suffer in silence rather than speak out and risk a negative response.
I have seen people live in what is basically Hell rather than open their mouths to say anything against the situation, and then become bitter that no one helps them or understands how they feel.

There is power in speaking aloud, much power, and by refusing to state loudly what one needs and wants and hopes and fears, one is subjugated to an interior critic called Big Brother. But this isn't 1984 (despite any political goings-on that may suggest otherwise), and there is no such thing as thought-crime. No one can punish you for who you are and what you feel unless you give them that authority over you. No one has the right to critique you for feeling as you do; no one is can correct you because they aren't you.

Jess's Commandments of Communication:
1. Say what you mean, and mean what you say. If you feel angry, then say it! Bluntly, boldly. Knowing full well you have the right to feel that way.
2. Speak with your whole being. When I write say it, by this I don't just mean speaking calmly like you're sitting at some fucking garden-party-- shout it, growl it, snarl. Frown. Cross your arms. Bristle and bare your teeth. Embody your emotion; accept it, embrace it. Feel the strength in the deep currents of feeling, and let it brace you. If you are sad, cry or scream. Howl. Wail. Dance with joy. Smile with your whole body, radiating your pleased attitude. You cannot communicate well if you are saying one thing aloud and your body language is screaming something totally different. Be as honest and pure as spring rain.
3. Speak to yourself. Learn to embody your thoughts and emotions all of the time, even when you are alone. It makes doing it around other people so much easier. You cannot be honest with others if you cannot be honest with yourself. We learn deception by deceiving first ourselves.
4. It's OK to be afraid of a negative reaction from others, but it is not OK to let this stop you from speaking. Every time I open my mouth to speak from my heart, my stomach clenches up and tongue becomes sandpaper. If a lot is "on the line", so to speak-- potentially ruining a friendship, possible rejection in love, something like that--, it's worse. My hands get sweaty and clammy; my heart pounds against my ribcage; suddenly the air is thick and it's hard to breathe. I start to shake and turn red.
Am I afraid? You bet your ass I'm afraid! I'm bloody well terrified!
But... I know that I can't let that stop me. The stronger the fear, the more invested I am in the relationship, the more I care, the more I need to speak out honestly, and the better I will feel when the conversation is over and resolved.
This fear is healthy, and I think that it serves the same function as physical pain. When you feel pain, your body is trying to tell you that something is wrong and that you need to pay attention to, say, the knee you scraped or arm you broke. When you feel a fear of communicating your emotions, your heart is trying to tell you something is wrong and that you need to pay attention to the anger you feel at being ignored, the enviousness you feel toward others who have what you want.
Fear of rejection and other negative reactions doesn't necessarily ever go away, but you can become more accustomed to dealing with it. Practice makes perfect.
5. Know you have the right to feel the way you do. This is another one that takes practice, because (again, in my experience) it seems that most people-- especially women-- are taught to invalidate their own feelings. This is a horrible travesty, and man, does it ever piss me off to hear someone say, "Yeah, I'm angry, but I shouldn't be..." or "I feel so sad, but there's no reason for me to feel this way..." Use the word "but" sparingly! "But" should never be used as an invalidating technique! NEVER, NEVER, NEVER. (Is that clear?) In fact, it is my advice that "but" should never be used in a deep, heartful conversation. Use "and" instead, which validates how you feel and gives a chance to detail what you are saying further. This difference is this:
"I feel angry about the way you keep taking my parking spot in back, but I guess it doesn't matter all that much... (so on)"
"I feel angry about the way you keep taking my parking spot in back, and I guess it doesn't matter all that much...(so on)"
There's no shortcut to knowing that you have the right to claim you emotions; this is just something you have to keep telling yourself over and over (or better yet, find someone else to tell you this over and over) until it becomes an ingrained belief.
6. "Fights will go on as long as they have to"-- or, speak until you have completely drained the well. Speak until you feel limp, drained, exhausted. If you think you still have something left to say, you do. It's really that simple. If employing this commandment means repeating yourself ad nuseaum, do so; there is a reason for it buried deep in your subconscious. Keep talking until you have spoken everything on your mind and then brought up some things you never intended to mention and then discovered a few more things you didn't even know about yourself and how you felt going into the conversation. You'd be surprised how much you aren't consciously aware of, and how it plays into your life and your actions; like an iceberg, most emotion is below dark, frigid, turbulent waters and you cannot begin to see it unless you are willing to be courageous and brave the icy sea. Stream-of-consciousness talk it great for revealing this huge, hidden mass of feelings.
9. There's a difference between being honest and being a complete jerk. It's sometimes a very fine line, so tread carefully. It helps to make your feelings and intentions crystal clear from the get-go: "We need to talk about ____. I've been thinking about this for a while, but I've been afraid to bring it up because I don't want you to take it the wrong way / get mad at me / hate me, but I really need to get it out and say how I feel." There. You've brought up the problem, your fears of a negative reaction, and why you are speaking.
Asking "permission" after this little intro helps: "Is that ok?" or "Do you understand that?" It's not really permission, which is why I use the quotations. This question is actually asking acknowledgment of what you have just said, and gives you a chance to see how the person you are speaking to is probably going to react (thus allowing you to plot your word choices and structure what you have to say).
Mentioning your fear of anger or hate or whatever is actually a really good idea, though it may not seem it. It alerts the person you are speaking to that this is a delicate topic, but it also lets them know-- subtly-- that you're trying to be as tactful as possible because you don't want them to feel angry/hateful/etc., and that you don't want them to feel this way because your relationship is meaningful and because you care.
Also, just because I have been saying be honest and embody your emotions and writing about stream-of-consciousness talk does not mean that you should just start screaming at someone and not stop for an hour because you're angry about them eating the last brownie and no being considerate. Tact and subtlety are also key notes here. Speak calmly and rationally, detail how you feel and why, and make them understand and empathize. Even when they can't completely empathize, they can get the gist of why you function the way you do.
(Example: I may not empathize with someone's fear of dogs, but I can empathize with the feeling of fear and what it does to you, mentally and physically. They might not understand why I get angry at Tom's (annoyingly) paternal concern for me, but I can explain that I feel patronized, and that's something most people understand.)
8. Listen. This is an important part of communicating well, and, like speaking, this is a fine art that most people don't seem to be able to grasp. Unfortunately for this treatise, it is also edging out of my area of "expertise", however, I think I can dredge up a few pointers.
----a. Stay calm. Even if the other person does get angry, keep your head about you and listen to what they are really saying. Do they feel threatened, cornered, attacked? Have you trespassed their respect boundaries? Is that just the way they tend to react? Question them and draw them out if possible. Ask them to explain how they feel. Reflectively listen-- repeat what they just said as closely as possible in the form of a question in order to show that you heard what they said and yet subtly ask for more information.
----b. Shut up. Give them the time and space they need to respond and express how they feel.
----c. Pay attention and show it. Listen like you talk: with your whole body. Lean forward, make eye contact. Nod. Make those little murmuring encouragements. Pay attention to their body language, tone, and word choice in addition to the plain text of what they are saying. Ask for clarification if you need it. Don't interrupt; they have the right to feel the way they do, too.
----d. Focus on common ground. We all disagree...sometimes even when we agree, we disagree. The conversation goes a helluva lot smoother if you focus on shared feelings and ideas-- even real basic ones, like on your agreement of anger instead of on your disagreement of why you are angry. The more you look for similarities, the easier it is to resolve the conversation and find compromises, whereas the more you focus on differences, the rockier the road gets.

...I'm drained, which means I've spoken all I can think of right now.
Some of you might notice that, like all people, I am better as giving advice than taking it, and I won't try to grin and pass it off with a "Do as I say; don't do as I do." Y'all deserve better than that. The truth is that I try to follow this set of commandments, but I am only human(-ish) and sometimes I fail. I am not Buddha, but I am a buddha just trying to do the best I can.

I hope you found this helpful and not patronizing.
Good luck.

9. Don't assign blame. If your goal is to communicate your feelings successfully and not be an uber-bitch, then one of the primary things you DO NOT EVER want to do is assign blame. It is NEVER the other person's fault that you feel the way that you do; you can communicate the same sentiment without blaming by using "I" statements. This is really easy: instead of saying, "I got stranded 'cause you didn't pick me up" try "I felt abandoned and I was wondering if you had forgotten or were just running late." Explain how the action made you feel in detail and try not to use the word "you".
The object of the conversation is not to make the other person feel bad, guilty, or attacked, and blaming them does this. No one likes feeling guilty and any attempt at fault-finding-- no matter how unintentional-- will seem like an attack and will make the other person not listen to you, close their mind as a defense mechanism, and try to retaliate.
Your demeanor in a heartful conversation must be open and honest even when you are hurt or angry. This is a must. You cannot be these things if you are hurtful, spiteful, or blaming; it just doesn't work. Wanting to hurt people-- as I said, even unintentionally-- is an indication that your heart and mind are closed to actual communication (which is a two-way street and involves listening as much as speaking). You must honor the other person, and employ the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have done unto you.

Also, these "commandments" work well in MOST interactions...but by no means all. They are based around the idea of empathy, understanding, and a willingness to resolve issues easily, and if the person you are trying to communicate with doesn't have/won't use their caring side, these are probably not good policy (Abusive relationships come to mind).
lykomancer: (Default)
Ok, so yesterday didn't go exactly as I planned.

I'm getting really frustrated at everyone. I'm the one in the house who is having the least amount of problems with Derek-- the day after Christmas fight aside-- and yet I'm really getting the message that I should be the one to handle him and the problems he's causing everyone else.

Ok, on one hand, yeah, as the calmest, most rationally sane person in the house and as a good friend who cares compassionate for my other housemates, I probably should be the one to deal with the mess.
On the other hand, I'm not the one having the majority of the problems, and my housemates are (supposedly) adults. They should take care of their own problems. It is not responsibility to look after them.

Wendy won't say much to Derek's face, and when she does, she seems to do it with the deliberately childish impetus to annoy him as much as he's annoying her-- whining, snapping, muttering.

Tom's run away from the whole situation, and called me yesterday with what seemed like the sole intent of asking me if I'd thrown Derek out yet. Tom will not confront Derek, makes absolutely no effort to do anything besides freak out, break down, and hide other places, and throws the entire burden on me and Wendy-- which, in reality, means me.
And I can't do anything because I have no idea what Tom's real problem is. Tom's freaking out even when Derek isn't doing anything and is leaving him entirely alone. I've never seen anyone so completely cowed by someone else for what seems like no apparent reason, and I don't know what to do about it. Everytime I ask Tom, he's just like, "I can't live with him! I can't stand being in the same house as him! I just can't do it!" which leaves me with no clear answers as to what the real problem is and suggests that Tom isn't even willing to try, which annoys the hell out of me. Tom's also said things about Derek reminding him of his mother, and about the problems of two bipolars living in the same house together, and I can understand all that when Derek is acting up...but not when Tom's breaking down and Derek isn't even there.
To be honest... *sigh* ...and this sounds harsh, it's seems like Tom's completely losing his mind. Literally.
I can't get anything out of him except fear and anxiety. He won't-- can't--- listen to anything besides his own terror, and I don't know what he's even really afraid of. The worst Derek can do is scream at us, maybe try to beat us up, but there's three of us in the house, there's three phones in the house (and it's easy enough to dial 911), and honestly, I don't think it would even go that far provided Derek was sober. And if he did start screaming at us or getting violent again, his ass would be grass in no time flat and then Tom wouldn't have to worry anymore.
And I understand that the mechanics of fear are such that reason itself isn't reasonable, and that it's easy to get trapped into a cycle of victimization because even the prospect of getting screamed at is terrifying...but I don't know what else to tell him or do for him. Again, it's harsh, but I wish Tom would make more of an attempt to be strong. He can't keep breaking down every time he runs into an obstacle; he can't keep running away from people like his mother and Derek-- if there's a cosmic lesson here, it's that he needs to learn how to deal with this kind of stuff and free himself from this cycle.

I really don't like being the most not-crazy person I'm living with.

Annie, Marybeth, Angela, et al. call me if you still have my number. I'm anxious to talk to other (relatively sane) people.
(Oh, and Marybeth, I did get your Christmas present, love! In all the lunacy I've been forgetting to mention that and give you a big thankies hug and kiss! Thank you!)
lykomancer: (angry)
*twitch, twitch*



Tom's therapist gave him two options:
He could check himself into the mental ward for a week,
or, he could get out of the house and live somewhere else for a week.
Hence, Tom is currently staying with Judith.

Derek is feeling "threatened" that he's going to be out on his ear.
He should be feeling thusly.
'Cause he's gonna be.

When Wendy, Wendy's boyfriend Ryan, and I got home last night, I pled a headache and locked myself in my room with a cup of Tension Tamers, Gackt music, lavender essential oil, and a book on the nature of evil. I didn't even want to talk to anyone, 'cause so help me God, if I had, I'd have lost it.
I isolated myself.

I pretty much got up and came here (the library).
I'm feeling calmer now... Or, probably more to the point, I am so past enraged that I feel calm.
Wendy's called into work today. No doubt this is related to the fact that I told her last night that I was throwing him out one way or another today, and when she asked me not to confront him alone, I pointed out that now that he's lost his job (yeah, the idiot lost his job-- ALREADY) and I don't have one, it's inevitable that we are going to be alone a lot.
But I'm thinking that I'm going to get him someplace out in public like a Starbuck's, and calmly and rationally say something to the effect of:

"Please don't interrupt me until I'm finished even though you're really going to want to. I really want you to hear everything I have to say.
You cannot stay with us. I know you were thinking about moving out on your own, and I think that's a good idea if you can still do it. But it comes down to the simple fact that you cannot live with us. Your mere presence is driving Tom literally insane.
You were able to even consider moving out here because of Tom's compassion and willingness to try to give people a fresh start, and clearly, it is not working out. The man who invited you out is having a mental breakdown just because you are in the apartment.
I feel an obligation toward Tom, because he has helped me out of the pit of despair more times than I care to count. Now Tom is in that dark place, and I feel that we both have an obligation to help him out.
If you are really serious about moving out and finding your own place-- as I said before-- I highly encourage this, and if you say that you are still serious about it, you will have no problem with my getting an eviction notice to back your claim up and have something to show Tom to reassure him."

You will note that it is waaaaayyyy nice.
Too fuckin' nice.
I am calm enough to be nice, and be it forcefully, and so I will take advantage of that calmness.

If I have to, I will point out that I am willing to forgo the two hundred dollars he owns me for rent in exchange for him buying a bus, train, or-- better yet-- plane ticket back to PA.

One way or another, it's going down today.
I'm tired of dragging this out.
I'm sick of the fuckin' psycho-drama.
And if I'm the only one with the cojones to square off with him, so be it. We all have our crosses to bear.
lykomancer: (hurt)
Oh, my fucking God.

My raging bipolar lunatic roommate )

I should cheer myself up by emailing Teresa-san, but...the last thing I need right now is something else that would make me nauseous, even if it's in a good way.
lykomancer: (Default)
*points up* You know, when I wrote that at the top of my papers in college, Cynthia freaked. It drove her crazy.

Feeling better.
Saw my shrink for the first time this week, and that went well, if somewhat stereotypically. We spent most of the session talking about my mother.
("Yes, and when I was little I used to think that my mother was a vampire 'cause she lived in the attic, I only saw her at night, and she was born with teeth-- superstition states that people born with teeth become vampires. So then... Why are you looking at me like that, Doc?")

Have more days off this next week, and that helps a lot. I'm seriously considering taking next semster off (leave of absense), and doing school full-time and an editorial internship with Women's Press, so that I can get some more expierience in my field, and yes, live off my student loans. Fuck, though...I did the math and realized that it will take TEN YEARS for me to pay off the loans I am recieving just for this year. It makes me want to cry. I don't even know where to begin to rectify my situation.

Anderson-plushie is almost done and rests comfortably on my couch. He needs the collar of his coat trimmed, glasses, his cross, Because of the difficulties involved in making the wig-thingie, I currently have neo-Nazi skinhead Anderson. I plan to rectify this as soon as I can get my sewing machine to behave.
lykomancer: (Default)
I went home yesterday and proceeded to write until I couldn't think of anything else to say. Here's the results.

Ranting, raving, and foaming at the mouth )

She works hard for the money... )

Blurb )

On the beast within )

And yeah, I feel better today and the weather is gorgeous, I get paid tomorrow and we can go grocery shopping, and for now, once more, the world seems an ok place. My demons have be appeased by the offering of words and tears, and have quietly retreated. That's good enough for now, although I am already thinking about how to shut them up for good.
Right. I'm off to go online rat shopping.
lykomancer: (Default)
Bubble gum universe and rock candy catharsis. ^_^
I AM in charge of my own destiny.

I sat down last night and wrote and wrote while half-assed listening to the BBC talking about the Portland, Maine, Catholic priest molestation scandal and the collapse of the archdiocese on NPR. It felt later than it was though it was only midnight, and things were ok, alright...I was cool and in my groove and there are no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq-- I don't believe it no matter what lies Bush tells the media-- and my fingers pirouetted across the keys confidently.

Someday I will have a disk and I will show you what I wrote. It's puffed up and self-important like my fiction tends to be, but pay no attention to that and rejoice merely in the fact that it was written.

I came in this morning to register for my fall class here at United, and Sandi-- the sweetest woman on the face of the earth, I swear to God-- was charming and attentive and warm and friendly. She made me a cup of Earl Grey tea that was redolent with the scent of orange peel. I am enrolled in the basic intro class, and I can't wait to take Greek in the winter.

I have an interview this afternoon in downtown to do the same exact thing I did for the DNC-- fundraising canvassing-- only for a different political party (something to do with the late Senator Wellstone) and over the phone. I figure, it's at least another few days work if nothing else.

I am locked out of the apartment building. I emptied my jeans pockets last night and forgot to grab my keys this morning.

God bless Judith! Without her, Tom and I would without a doubt have a broken car and nothing to eat but the two dead rats in the freezer (Ossie and Mystic both died, and I have no idea what to do with their little corpses, so they are wrapped up in a Wal-Mart bag in the freezer). I might be house-sitting for her next week, and its surely the least I can do considering what she's done for us...

No word back on the closed captioning position, and I am crossing my fingers.
Please, Deity, You know how I need this. Please, please. Show me the love. Alleluia and amen.

I'm feeling better and better each day. I guess I hit the bottom last week and had nowhere left to go but up. Or else I passed it off to Tom, who's been steadily dragging lower for the last four days. I don't know what to tell him to make him feel better...I'm still jobless, I still don't have my paycheck, his car part still isn't in the shop, we own our living souls and first-born to Judith, we still can't afford such extravagances as milk, etc, etc.

*shrug* Yes, poverty can be reduced to some philosophical theory even when you are living it.

Oh, yeah. One more random thought. Everyone should read Marcus Borg sometime this summer. I just finished The God We Never Knew and let me assure you that it is brilliant. If you can't find that, he also wrote Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time, which I haven't read, but I'm sure is just as good.
lykomancer: (upset)
Wow, I actually have time to write a real entry and a working keyboard. All that praying is starting to pay off.

So frustrated.
So fucking frustrated.

I'm tired of this crap. I'm tired of being jobless and spending my days laying around reading books I've already read and watching movies I've already seen and playing solitaire on Tom's computer. I'm tired of searching through the newspapers, hating the grit of newsprint and the smudges of ink on my fingers, circling ads for jobs I'll never get. I'm tired of "applicants must have 3 or more years experience in marketing, communications, or related field."

I'm bored and I want to get out and do stuff, but I can't. I would have something to do if I had a job, but I don't. I canceled two interviews last week because I was so sure of getting the job with Caribou, and now it's been a week and I'm still unemployed.

I want to have something to do. I want to have some reason to get off the couch in the morning. I want to interact, maybe make a friend or two, meet people. I want money so that the budget won't be so tight and so that I can buy a cup of coffee if I want to, or a new pair of headphones, or donate to the Green Party.

And it's so damned easy for me to be irrationally, angrily envious of Tom when he speaks so blithely of the future-- his future and what he wants to do with it.
I don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life. I survive day to day. I breathe, I blink, I eat, I sleep. Instinctive animal rhythms of life that sustain my existence... but there's nothing more. I don't have any goals to strive toward achieving. I have no hopes, no dreams, no desires, no ambitions.
God, I can't even write or draw, though I have plenty of free time in which to do so. All of my projects lie languishing, and I just stare at them, fiddle with the keyboard, and go back to playing solitaire.

How can I hope to attract people-- potential employers, friends, possible mates-- if I lack that divine creative spark, the spiritus of vitality? How beautiful can one possibly be without a future, filled with only avoidance of reality, fear, and despair?

I have only a few ideas of what I don't want to do: I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a high-school graduate dead-end job pushing food in disposable paper packaging across the counter with one hand while the other dances across the keys of the cash register.

I am loss as to where to even begin. I have little money, no local bank account, poor credit, no car, no license, not enough job experience, not enough resume and interview experience. I have my goddamn resume on a disk and I can't get it off; the only way that it appears that I can get the experience I need is through unpaid internship or volunteer work-- and that still leaves me needing a job that pays.

*smashes head into something hard*

Why is this so fucking hard?

So, lacking anything else better to do, I followed Tom's suggestion and went to Pride on Saturday.
(Yeah, as in GAY Pride... it's the third largest Pride festival in the nation, apparently.)

It was neat; I'm glad that I went, though I did spend most of the day thinking, "Oh wow! I bet Daysha would love that!" Or, "Heh, I wish Angela could have seen that... she'd have had something nice to say." Or, "Oh, I wish I could buy that for Annie!" It's kind of like being haunted.

(That reminds me though: Annie, you should come down here for Pagan Pride on September 11th!)

I was just about to leave when I ran into Alicia and Lindsey, Sara Lee and Connie.
I glomped poor Alicia...I don't think she was expecting quite that enthusiastic of a greeting...and spent about another two hours hanging out with them. Yeah, I felt like a bit of a fifth wheel, being the only individual in a group of two couples, but I didn't care, it was just so good to be with people.
I found out that Channy lives down here too, and that she occasionally does drag at the Gay 90's. Maybe I'll stop in there some night and see if she's preforming.


I don't know. I mean, it's hard to explain when I run into people-- like Alicia-- why I'm so desperately happy to see them. Yeah, I guess that I am lonely. I'm also bored. I am also stressed. My joblessness, which can be summed up with, "And I still don't have a job!", is grating on me-- the pressure to get one, the tight budget, the overwhelming sense that I'm fucking up and being a leech and that I'm letting Tom down and all I do is sit around and read and listen to music and why aren't I trying HARDER WHY DON'T I GODDAMN HAVE A JOB YET WHAT ARE YOU SOME KIND OF WELFARE LOSER!?
Thinking about it makes me feel a little psychotic. I'm contemplating more and more of scheduling an appointment with Tom's shrink, who charges on a sliding scale according to income...not that it would do me any good; I can't afford the drugs he'd probably prescribe.

Yeah, Jess's screws aren't as in as tight as they could be.

It's problematic, but at least I'm aware of it. That's half the fight right there. Maybe it's time to start using what little I have left of my St. John's Wort tincture again, or talk to Deborah-- a very nice friend of Tom's-- who I believe is an herbalist.

It's not that bad-- not as bad as it sounds. I'm just frustrated and upset and tired of having to scratch for everything. A lot of this will go away once I start working-- are you listening, God?-- and don't have to deal with these feelings of inadequacy. I just need something to do with my time and distract me, and then I'll be OK.

God, I don't want to end it on this kind of note. I don't want anyone worrying about me. I just needed to vent a bit, purge the abcess. It looks ugly now, but it's not as bad as it appears.



May. 30th, 2004 11:54 am
lykomancer: (Default)
Plugging away at Joy's damned paper. Doing ok at it; I'm half-way there, though I can't think of anything else to write and I don't know if I can get those journal entries she wants in, too. The more I think about it the more I want to say, "To Hell with it", though. It really won't kill my gpa.

The lilacs are starting to bloom.

Y'know, I wish right now that I was living the cliche of, "...and she was surprised to see how few boxes her life fit into." That be real handy, in fact. I got way too much crap.

I wish I could write something deep and profound in this last-entry-for-a-long-while space, but I really can't think of anything. Except that I hate living in transition. God, I'm looking around my room and thinking, "Why can't we just go now? I don't want to waste time waiting for Tuesday." If I have to go, I wanna get it over with and get the ball rolling toward moving on. This lingering thing is not my cuppa.
(Ngn. I really want some tea now, and I can't have any. That pisses me off a lot.)


And something totally different... )
lykomancer: (Angry)

Wow, I just realized how insane the next twenty-four hours are going to be.

I have to eat supper-- my one meal of the day-- and then at 6 I have a Grindstone paper meeting (dealing with Carl; oh... goodie...); at 7 I've agreed to go out to supper with Tom, who's up from the cities only until tomorrow morning, and though he wants to get me plowed I can't; I have to have either my capstone outline or the abstract done by tomorrow morning; I don't yet know whether Julie agreed to switch meeting times with me, so I don't know what's going on with my VERY IMPORTANT meeting with Cynthia tomorrow; I have my physical tomorrow afternoon for the Peace Corps, and I have to remember to take all of my paperwork with me and cash my birthday check from Heather and Akia; I have a panel discussion tomorrow evening at 6 about gay marriage, and I'm pretty sure I'm just gonna take my notes and wing it.

Add in the fact that one of my baby rats escaped its cage and is loose in Kris's house with two dogs and four cats-- not to mention the five humans-- and there are a few other weird bits going on... Oh, God.

And I can't forget archery tomorrow.

Or that I'm working for Banner tomorrow, not Carol. And that I have to skip out of work early to see if Julie did agree to switch meeting times.

And that Bruce agreed to give me a ride to the doctor's office if I call and remind him

The problem is that I am now so stressed thinking about all this I am overwhelmed. I have two hours to eat and whatever before my newspaper meeting, and I doubt my ability to use them productively 'cause my mind is zipping along at break-down speed thinking about everything else.



Will try to think happy thoughts and work on my abstract. I should be able to get that done before I have to leave.


lykomancer: (Default)

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