lykomancer: (Sweet Smile- Itachi)
I have entered some quietly beatific Zen calm. I am the eye of the storm, perfect stillness in the middle of chaos.

We're moving. Packing things up and living in huge piles of boxes and unsorted stuff and donate heaps. We're calling the landlord, the utility company, the internet company, family, the landlord, friends. We're cramming vans full of boxes and doing three loads from one address to the other after work. We're juggling finances. Trying to remember what we need and what we already have. We're working. I'm still studying algebra; Jinya's jogging.

I recognize that I should feel stressed. In fact, I should feel frustrated and short-tempered and emotionally exhausted.

I don't though. I don't really feel anything but calm and mildly pleasant. Easy-going. Unfazed.


I think that living with depression for so long-- struggling against the burden of it-- strengthened my emotional "muscles", as it were. (Hahahaha, my metaphor just makes me think of Rock Lee and his weights, but that's exactly what I'm talking about.)
lykomancer: (Nap)
Ok.

Rats hidden away at Pepper's old apartment.
Cages hosed down and hidden outside.
Snake hidden in storage closet.
Aspen chips vaccuumed; walls scrubbed.
Batteries in all fire alarms.
Hookah packed up.

...I don't think there's anything else that we need to worry about for tomorrow's inspection. The place is as clean as it can be, considering the short notice.


Tomorrow's plan's include surviving inspection; watching more Gurren Lagann-- which, noteably, I don't really care for so far (five episodes in); and writing fic drabbles.
lykomancer: (Bring it on!)
...by tomorrow, and tries not to have a mental melt-down.

You know, I thought this would go a lot faster than it is. I overestimated my own determination and fitness level, and underestimated how much stuff I own and how heavy it is and how dehydrated I'd get, and, well... *looks around* Er, yeah. Shit. My room is less of a problem. There's not a whole lot left in here, not after I cleaned out the closet last night. (Christ Almighty, I didn't realize how much was in there until I started digging. And then I thought I might unearth the Ark of the Covenant from its depths. O_o!)

Inu-no-Jess-chan also realizes that she has too many fucking books. Holy shit on a stick. I need to stop buying them. They are heavy and difficult to move. (And my full collection isn't even all here. I have another three big boxes still in Pennsylvania at my Grandparents'.
AND...after all the searching I've done while moving, I still haven't found my copy of St. Augustine's Confessions. GRRRRR! >.< I am one very, very unhappy theologian!)

In addition to what's left in my room and the shelf of books in the living room, the kitchen hasn't even been touched yet. Neither has the bathroom.
And I have my homework to do, including probably about two hundred pages of reading and writing a paper on Jonah.
Today is gonna suck, ladies and gents.

On the up side, however, the ever-sweet and talented [profile] chauni wrote me a tasty-good ficcy, and you all should go and read it and worship her now and forever, amen. *points the way to the Temple of Cha*
Fountains
lykomancer: (Power corrupts)
To all you people renovating the downstairs apartment:

I am going to take that drill, and I'm gonna shove it so far up your ass that I'm gonna be able to work on your cavities. I know dental work isn't my specialty, but consider it a freebie with the drill-bit enema. Two for the price of one, you might say; a bonus gift given the kindness of my large and generous heart.

XOXOXO
(Hugs and kisses!)
The Anger-Management Case Upstairs.


P.S. The hammer? Oh, yeah, sweetheart. I got a use for that, too-- quite a few actually. Don't test me; you won't like the results.
lykomancer: (Going Nowhere Really Fast)
...it's not getting any better the longer I stay awake.

Not only am I irritated at all the stuff I mentioned this "morning", I am also irked because my face is breaking out to high hell and I don't know why.

Also, the people doing repairs in the downstairs apartment apparently turned off the water for the building, and so there is no showering, dish-washing, toilet-flushing, etc until they choose to turn it back on. Again, THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH for telling us that you'd be shutting off our water! No, you're right, I didn't want to shower today!
Bastards...

And then I checked my old hotmail account. Most of my email has been successfully rerouted to my gmail box, but I still check the old addy about once a week. Good thing I did!
*headDESK* The Taoism final that I was so sure was only five pages...? Yeah, the professor emailed me, wondering where my brain was, 'cause it was supposed to be 10-12. He wants to know if I am requesting a 30-day extension, or if this is my whole work and I am willing to accept being docked half my grade.
AAGHGHGHGH! *kills something*

I so do not need this shit! >.
lykomancer: (Shut up and die)
Ranting like a mofo )

I am still sleepy, have been awakened rudely, and I don't feel a need to apologize. >.< So there. Uber-bitch.
I think that's all for now.
lykomancer: (Turn the other cheek)
I'm about to the point of cheerfully-- dangerously cheerfully-- announcing that I am leaving my apartment to stay at a hotel, and that my roommates have exactly two days to sort out all of their problems with one another and/or move out before I return home. I don't care what happens, so long as it is over and resolved by the 48-hour mark when I walk through my front door again; they can murder each other for all I care.
Just so we're clear on where I stand here.


Sincerely,
Management.
lykomancer: (Someone to hear your prayer)
In less than a week, one of my housemates-- Jen-- has asked me if two different, new people could move in with us, one temporary, the other permanent.

My Official Answer: I don't care.

Now, this isn't because I haven't thought about it. I have, at great length.
That's five or six people living in out apartment, sharing one small bathroom, one small kitchen. That's five or six people all with different sleep schedules keeping each other awake with their music and conversations. That's "OMFG, we just went grocery shopping three days ago and we already ate two loaves of bread?!?!" That's more "I can't stand it when so-and-so does ____" and "XYZ really drive me nuts! and "If I have to ___ ONE MORE TIME...!" That's trying to organize more work times and chorelists and bill payments.
Now with twice the psychodrama and half the communication.

That's putting up with Matt's bad puns and dysfunctional, almost schizophrenic breaks between "I can't take anything seriously; I'm gonna quote Animaniacs" and "Oh, my God, my life sucks and I want to die."

Also, Wendy hasn't been asked about either of these, and she right now holds the final vote. If Wendy says no, flat-out, the answer is no. She's already having issues, and I don't want to put any more stress on her, since she did come all the way out here from Pennsylvania to start over again with Tom and I.

I'm a lot more OK with the temporary resident, for several reasons.
One being the temporary factor.
The other main one being the fact that this could be for him what we offered to Wendy: a completely new start someplace new, along with the time he would need to get back up on his feet again.
He's dead-ended where he is, and really seems to need the help.

.
.
.

BUT
...my Official Answer to both is "I don't care."

I maintain my neutrality.
It could be really fun and interesting. It could be a miserable, atrocious failure.
It could just be the same as life for us in this household is already, a bit of both joy and hardship as we bumble along, while improving life for others. This is the most likely, and that's why I don't care.

God, I'm such a sucker for stray kittens.
lykomancer: (Default)
Updated/revamped my Christmas wishlist thingie, and corrected my snail-mail so that it is my new address.

Almost finished with my annotated bibliography, thank God. I just need one more resource article and a book review for one of the books I've already used, and then I need to finish writing up my annotations.

Looking up shonen-ai fanfics at school when I should be doing something much more valid with my time. (Man, I realize suddenly, almost desperately, how much I miss good smutty slash fanficcage. I can't wait to get internet hook-up at our new apartment... maybe then I'll start writing good smutty slash fanficcage of my own again, then. I've got a listing of pairings I'm, yep, just crazy enough to try...as soon as I can sit someplace private with a big ol' bottle of schnappes until 3 AM, giggling as I try to fit in that one adjective that makes everyone go, "Oh!" or "Eek!" ^_~ The world needs more good slash/shonen-ai. I was made to fill this niche. Maybe that's what I'll sit down and do on Christmas day.)

My new roommates are taking a while to get out here because of financial problems, and Tom and I have spent the last two nights running boxes of stuff we know for certain that we don't need over to the new place. It's kind of frustrating, because I look at my small collection of stuff and think how easy and fast it would be to move me in almost completely-- except for my desk, and the few pieces of furniture I need, like a dresser and a futon-- and then I see how slow and long it's probably actually going to take.
I'm so excited to have more space so I stop feeling like Tom's hovering over me all the freakin' time ('cause he tends to stand in the kitchen-- staring, incidentally, at my couch-- or play with the cat-- who, incidentally, spends a lot of her time on- where else?- the back of my couch). It will be nice to be able to lock Baka out of my room, so that everything I own isn't covered in cat hair. I'm so excited to have a door. (Actually, I have two.) And a closet.
Life is good when you have a closet.

I'm still a little worried about money, but I figure the only things I'm letting myself spend on besides bills-- after sending a big-ass check off to Jenny-- is a monthly allowance of 30-40$ at the beginning of the month. I'm trying to remember everything so that I can work out a real, tight budget.
(Hmm... RoadRunner Premium internet includes multiple connections and networking, which is good considering at least two computers are going to be hooked up, and the listed price is 85$, but is that per month? I guess it must be... Well, if we divide that out through three people, that's not that bad...)

I think I'm going to work on that now.
lykomancer: (Default)
Welcome to the crazy farm.

Wendy-- my best friend from high school-- and Derrick-- a kid who graduated from the same high school a year before us-- are both coming and moving in with me and Tom just after Thanksgiving. They should be here between the 30th and 2nd.
My household just doubled.
Tom already found us a new apartment, which we will be looking at and (no doubt) be making the deposit on tomorrow evening. It's a recently remodeled three-bedroom a block from the art institute and three from Nicolet Ave, and they mostly rent out to graduate students and young professionals. Off-street parking, laundry, all utilities except electric included, first month's rent waived, 1200/month.
Swweeeeeeeeeet.

I have to be a little more careful with my money right now, as I will be making the deposit, and we're gonna need a U-Haul, and we're gonna need some more furniture (such as futons for everyone except Tom), etc. ect.

That said, I just went clothes shopping and blew 240$.
It hurts me.
But...I haven't really gone clothes shopping in since junior high, so I guess it's about time. I was having a panic attack in the middle of an aisle-- heart palpitations, difficulty breathing, chest pain, emotional distress-- because I was so completely freaked out by the idea of wasting money on clothes; I had to retionalize it by saying to myself that I would even think twice if I was buying books instead of clothes, and books are a lot less practical. Still, I feel really uneasy about it.
Call me sexist, but I just thought that all women could just naturally clothes shop and know what to buy and so on and so forth...but damn, I don't know how to shop! And I don't like it, either. Hours in freakin' Target trying on clothes that are too small, strain across my bust, too big, the wrong color, sweating as I change in and out of outfits, bumpng my elbows into the fitting room walls, steering my cart into racks of sweaters, my hair sticking up and all-around looking and feeling frumpy and frazzled.

...sigh...
I'm slowly working up my courage to ask Theresa-san (aka: HotASLLady) out. It's stress-inducing. I'm unhappy about it. I'm going to do it anyway so that no one can call my a coward and say I didn't try.
God, I hope she likes Italian.

AND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE CHILDREN:
Stop being weird and talking about one another and sex in public. Stop being judgemental. Stop qualifying yourselves.
Or, if you want to do those things, do it face to face.
...yeah, you know I'm talking about you.

Profile

lykomancer: (Default)
lykomancer

May 2017

S M T W T F S
 123456
78 910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 24th, 2017 03:11 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios