lykomancer: (Head-Tilt?)
Ugh. I'm now working full-time, and my new regular shift is 6 am to 2 pm. I hate it less than doing a mid-shift, though, so I'm not bitching too hard. (Jinya is. She really dislikes my new schedule, because I have to go to bed so early that it's hard for us to do anything together.)

God, I love sleep. I think I love sleep more than sex. Of course, it's been so long since I've had sex I'm not sure if I even remember what I'm missing. *le sigh*

Speaking of, Jinya is once more dealing with receiving too many offers of dates/too much interest. Considering that no one's flirted with me, shown any interest in me at all, asked me out, or tried to set me up in something like five solid years, I'm having trouble empathizing.

Sweet Jesus, this last week was stupid-hot. Heat indexes over 100. Nasty muggy wet heat. Most of the summer was a gorgeous, breezy 70 to mild 80, and then suddenly this gross shit. Ugh.

Rescued stray orange tabby Taffy has adjusted well. She's put on a lot of weight; her coat's filled in and gotten glossy; her ears are clean and her breath smells a lot better. She no longer hisses at the other cats much, and even when she does, it's just rote habit; she's not actually bothered by them anymore. She finally became healthy/energetic enough to start playing, too, and she's still a total cuddle-bug.

Our two enormous oscars seem to be done trying to out-dominate each other for the moment. They've gotten into few fights-- epic, water-sloshing boxing matches-- which resulted in a few missing scales and a few rips in fins-- nothing major. Most of their confrontations have been the fish equivalent of, "COME AT ME, BRO!" Interestingly, Rudy now goes belly-up everytime the Admiral approaches. She looks like a submissive dog, and I wonder if that's how oscars indicate submission, too.

We tried getting feeder fish at PetSmart in Faribault the other day. The service was so bad I thought Jinya's head was going to turn 365 degrees and pop off in a shower of magma. We got in there just behind a woman and her litter of seven kids (?!). There were only two employees in the store: one was tied up with that woman, and the other couldn't leave the register. Now, I understand, "I'm sorry, but I have to stay by the registers"-- I do. But the registers are only twenty feet from the fish tanks, and there's a clear view that whole way. She could have easily helped us quickly while keeping an eye on things. NO ONE CAME IN ANYWAY.

So we told her that we'd do a few other errands and come back, and asked if it was possible to have twenty feeder fish bagged up by the time we got back.

When we came back, we found the one employee had freed herself from the woman and her kids, and was dipping our fish.


Like, not scooping out a bunch at a time, but dipping single fish. Why? She was trying to get a particular color. What the ever loving fuck. It took FOREVER.

And meanwhile, the children are everywhere, asking nonstop questions. Rather than watch the employee get distracted AND give out incorrect information, Jinya was fielding all of their inquiries while the employee carefully caught individual fish and bagged them up. (Twice. The first bag leaked.)

By the time we left, Jinya was apoplectic. Kept screaming, "THEY'RE GONNA GET TWO THOUSAND MORE IN TWO DAYS! I DON'T CARE IF THE KIDS LIKE 'THE PRETTY ONES'! THEY'RE FEEDER FISH!" It was pretty funny.

My boss's boss's boss was in the other day. What a douche. He wasn't directly douchey to me-- unless you count the number of time he asked me about finishing a planogram I started before he came (aka: when I was NOT the only person on the floor) while simultaneously depriving me of everyone else that could help me do customer service. Seriously. He took Adam, which left me and Toni...and then he took Toni, too. So I was the only person helping customers and ringing people up. And he has the balls to ask me why my plano wasn't getting done? *smh* F'r fuck's sake.

Mostly though, it was listening to him high-handedly explain everything that's wrong, everything that needs fixing, and everything we should be doing, and then watching him leave. Oh yes, he knows what's best alright. *eyeroll* Oh, and of course we're cutting hours, so he wants ten times the amount of work done with a smaller crew, while providing excellent customer service. Dude. Saved payroll, good customer service, all tasks around the store being completed several times a day: pick one and a half. You can't have all three. It doesn't work that way.

I haven't been keeping up well with folks online. My apologies. I've been working and sleeping and trying to lose myself in fictional worlds again. It's been so damn hot I'm unmotivated to do anything other than shower and sleep and stare blankly at the screen. I'm not depressed; just lazy.
lykomancer: (Zuko Drama and WTFry)
I seriously want to kill one of my coworkers.

He's not a bad guy. He's friendly. He's agreeable.

It's just that Dana's got the brains of a Labrador retriever.

So he's just annoying as all high fuck. He has absolutely no sense of urgency whatsoever. Give him a task-- any task, regardless of how simple-- and he will take three hours or more to get it done...if he gets it done at all. He stands around chatting all the time. If you start talking to him about something and the phone rings, he needs you to not just stop talking to him and ask him to answer it, but you need to practically scream at him to answer before he even looks at it.

I flat-out told Toni that if I had to set ad with him again soon, I'd flip my fucking shit. Setting ad takes about three and a half hours every Saturday night. We start at 5; we close at 7; and it's all supposed to be done by 8:30. If we get done sooner, we go home sooner, but it's rare to get done earlier than quarter to 8.

Unless fucking Dana's there. The last three times I set ad with him, we didn't get done any earlier than 9. Last Saturday-- not yesterday, but last week-- was 9:26. NINE FUCKING TWENTY-SIX. HE WAS STILL DOING FUCKING NINE-UPS AT 9:10! JESUS H FLYING CHRIST-CRISPIES.

We're supposed to report every instance where we talk to a customer in electronics or furniture and report whether we made a sale or not. There's not really any pressure, but corporate is trying to estimate how many sales we close vs. how many opportunities we have. To get an accurate number, we're supposed to report every conversation, no matter how short or if the customer is "just looking". I'm fairly good about this, so my opportunity to close rate is something like 5:1 or so.

Dana's opportunity to close rate is something like 7:6, which makes me strongly suspect that he's not reporting every opportunity. Yeah, he's apparently good at sales-- it's the only thing he's good at-- and maybe he got a wave of good luck yesterday, but those numbers seem unusually good.

Just... Just everything. Everything he does makes me want to slap the shit out of him. I want to cut his face up with pieces of glass.


In other news, I haven't expressed my love for Toni here.
Toni's management.
She just turned 24, which I managed to guess simply because I already knew she was 25 or younger. However, she acts like... I don't know how to phrase this. She acts like a Real Adult. Like a really Real Adult, more so that just about every other person I've EVER met, regardless of age or station.

She's also terrifying.

I'm not frightened of many people. I think I can count the list of people who scare me on two fingers. And Toni's one of those two.

It took me months to figure out her sense of humor, but once I did, I wasn't scared witless of her like I was at the beginning. Now I'm just intimidated-awed-obedient. However, we do get along decently. Before both Tim and Bethany left (*sadface*), they both separately reported that Toni liked me. I'm Cool with that. I Do Not Want to Piss Toni Off, because I have an active survival instinct which informs me that doing so would be a Critical Error.

I gotta admit, it's weird. I'm so unused to being scared or intimidated of anyone, of feeling like someone's really earned my respect and obedience, that there's a weird, erotic undertone to my response. That is what a Dominant is supposed to be like. Right there.

Back off to work. With luck, Dana's not there today. I don't want to spend my shift murderous.
lykomancer: (Sword Dancer)
I think I weirded out a coworker yesterday. He was talking about some films he has to watch for class. I asked, "What titles?" and he responded, "Ma Vie En Rose or something like that." I then proceeded to squee, "I love that movie!"

I'm pretty sure he thought I was joking, and I so wasn't.

So I've been at OfficeMax for over three months now. Things are going fairly well. I have some issues with management-- occasionally they get it into their heads to tell us to do three different things at the same time-- but it's short-term, minor annoyances. My coworkers are a lively bunch, overall, and I get along well with most of them.

There is one woman that I just roll my eyes at. Kristie's four years older than me and she's... How to put this? Gone full-on adult-mode power wife. I highly doubt anyone would put us in the same age bracket: she's tanned (and with the beginnings of skin damage from tanning) and covered in make-up, with high-lights in her hair-- she looks like a woman trying too hard, in my opinion. Her main hobbies seem to be her family, her daughter's softball, and working.

She seems to really hate my casual intelligence. (That sounds like braggadocio, I know.) She gets snippy and mocking when I talk about learning languages, for example. Another coworker is an immigrant from Somalia (he's lived here for eight years), and he's been half-assedly teaching me Somali-- some casual phrases, that sort of stuff. Last night he was showing me Arabic writing, and Kristie was just, "That's not a word! That's just a bunch of lines and dots. It's a smiley face! That isn't a word!" until I finally wrote a few words in English, pointed at them, as said, "Do you think those lines and dots are words? It's no different."

And she calls herself "old" a lot. Which is primarily annoying because she's only four years older than me. If she's old, I'm old. And I am not old.
She has these strict lines on what she will or will not do based on some arbitrary age limit or something. Sports are okay, but climbing trees is something she's too old for. Things like that. She's just so...stick-in-the-mud. Of course, I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm off my rocker.

Everyone else is fun to work with, and by now I feel comfortable selling and all that. Store manager's already considering promoting me.
lykomancer: (Default)
Holidays starting.
Oh god, I hate holiday season.

I hate all the flaming imbeciles that come to the Mall of America on a Saturday in December and then cluelessly ask me, "Is is always this busy?"


I hate all the morons that come to the Mall of America on a Saturday in December and then demand to know how we possibly could be sold out of [X]. DIDN'T WE KNOW IT WAS GOING TO BE POPULAR!? WHY DIDN'T WE STOCK OVER 9,000!?


I hate-- oh god, HAAAAAAAAAAAATE-- all the people who come to the music department with an armload of books and excuse themselves by whining, "The line up front is soooooooo long!"

ALKJGDHLKDFGsdlfkjsldfkjslkajsdlkJLKWRAGERAGERAGE. I FUCKING HATE YOU. WHY DOES EVERY SINGLE PERSON NEED TO SAY THIS!? WHY!? WHY?! I know the line up front is long, you fucking dipwad-- it's the Mall of America on a Saturday in December. NO SHIT, THE LINE IS LONG. But there are nine people up there ringing as fast as humanly possible and usually also a line manager. Back here, there's JUST ME. DOING EVERYTHING: shelving, cleaning, answering questions, finding things, preventing shrink, and ringing. I guaran-fucking-tee you that the line up front, no matter how long, will be quicker than waiting for me.

"It's not the 'holidays'; it's Christmas!"

...fuck you, lady. I'm Jewish.
(No, I'm not, but I am for every heinous bitch that tries to correct my offensively PC "Happy Holidays" into a "Merry Christmas". NO. I want to say "Happy Holidays." AND I WILL. AND YOU CAN BITE MY PASTY WHITE ASS.)

I hate the rampant consumerism. I hate the rush and impatience and rudeness. I hate the overstimulation and expectation. I hate the self-importance.
I hate the way people admit to buying things for other people simply because of the obligation-- not because they care or they want to or they saw the perfect gift. No. Obligation. I have to.
UGH. No. You don't. Stop it.

For the next month, it's all black and emo eyeliner for me.
lykomancer: (Today's To-Do List)
Let me predict for you my half of the dialogue for most of my day:

"Maybe, that depends."
"If your name is on this list."
"Well, did you reserve a copy of the book at this store?"
"Then no, sorry."
"I didn't do it. Blame corporate for not ordering enough."
"Sorry, man."
"Sure you can talk to a manager."
lykomancer: (Happiness)
Strangely, I feel a lot better today than I have for a while. I was reading some of last holiday's LJ posts, and for some reason now I feel almost cheerful and nearly willing to go into work tonight; maybe it's some twisted form of nostalgia on my part, I don't know.

(Or maybe it was getting to sleep in for two days in a row, really phenomenal sex last night-- nnnnggggghhh, that was good--, Randy seeming to slowly come around to the fact that he's starting to reciprocate some feelings for me, or the fact that I spent most of yesterday stoned out of my god-forsaken mind.

Eh. Whatever. *shrugs*)

Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment for my knee. Friday I pay bills. Sunday is the holiday meeting at work (oh...goodie). Things will start settling into a pattern soon.
lykomancer: (I Love My Job...)
Since being at cashwrap for a few months, I have a new round of complaints about people's behavior...

Don't be an asshole. )

11) The line is down there. Please go wait in line. Those other people were waiting first. GO WAIT IN THE DAMNED LINE.
lykomancer: (I won't be the wasted potential)
One of the women in my American Religion History class revealed tonight that she works for what is arguably the largest and most well-known occult and new age publishing firm, Llewellyn. (I never realized that they were based in St. Paul.)
I asked her about the possiblity of getting a job there, and she told me that they often hired students fresh out of college and that they'd be hiring in June or July if I was interested.

It's spirituality (sort of... *laughs*) and writing.
They don't require in-field experience, but I already have some.
The woman I talked to is actually the one who does the hiring, apparently.


It would be fucking fabulous if I could get a job there.
I need to work on prettifying my resume.
lykomancer: (Default)
Feeling a bit out of it now and then the last few days. Sleepy, tired, lethargic, bored and yet restless, angry, obstinate. I don't know what my problem is.

I'm getting stuff done, and sometimes I'm even doing a good job on it. I'm very happy with my Taoism midterm (in which I compared the tao of the Tao-Te Ching and the logos of The Gospel of John); I've stitched up the massive holes in three pairs of my jeans; I mailed off my FAFSA, organized my closet, located my sandals, did most of my reading for tomorrow's classes, wrote more on my original story for my writing class, and started a new piece of fanfic (Envy/Ed/Wrath, for those curious).

There's a free Stuart Davis concert in St. Paul this Sunday that I will, of course, be attending.

Speaking of this weekend... *raises a brow* May or may not be having company. *pokes [ profile] wolfe_guardian* I don't know if that plan's still go, but you are always welcome here, darlin', and I do mean always. (What? Don't you know? You were adopted! ^_^) You're a delight, truly.
And in another week, [ profile] ozen will be gracing me with her lovely, lively presence. Yippie! I'm so looking forward to it.

I actually have a job interview with--of all places!--the Sanrio store in the Mall of America on Monday. (Because I'm such a Hello Kitty-type person! *snortlaugh*)
Hell, I even got my hundred dollar room deposit back from Northland today, so I have a little more money.

(Things I Still Need to Get Done:
-Develop film
-Return library books!
-Deposit check
-Patch other two pairs of pants
-Write up evaluation)

But I'm just not feelin' the love for some reason.
I'm not feeling like I'm hitting my stride. Everything's a bit off. I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not living up to my potential. I'm not doing good enough; I'm slacking.
But at the same time, I don't want to do anything but slack.

Damn it, I want to be a better person! I want to be someone worthwhile; I want to be someone competent and respectable and friendly and responsible and approachable.
I want to be me, but all the good and none of the bad. I want to be the Mary Sue version of me.
I get so tired of being a fuck-up. Of being a slacker. Or sitting on my ass and blowing time. Of being lazy. Of being irresponsible. Of wasting who I am and what I could be if I just applied myself.

I hate my own hypocrisy.
I hate my envy and useless rage.
I hate my helplessness in the face of my own failings.
I hate all my faults, and if I could take a razor to them and excise them-- like cutting out my right eye or my hand-- I would.
I hate my hatred, but I can't see to do anything about it.

(God, I feel now the way I usually feel when I've been off my Zoloft for a few weeks...and that's not a good sign, 'cause I'm taking the damned stuff. >.< Fuck you, expensive medication.)

I think I need to take some time to back off and assess myself.
lykomancer: (Default)
Lessee if this coding works. (If it doesn't, this is going to look strange.)
...ok, it works if I lj cut it, so it's cut to look better.

The Greeks don't want no freaks )

Heh! ^_^ I'm so cool.

I'm tutoring someone's daughter starting at the end of this month for 13$ per hour.
I love all of my housemates (but wish they'd clean up more of their stuff that's lying around the house.)
Wendy's never had a real birthday party, so I want to throw one at the end of the month. Anyone who can send cards or randomly show up to wish her a happy 24th is encouraged to do so.
Teresa-san is entirely too hot for me to function properly around.
And life is good.
lykomancer: (Default)
Today is not my last day of work...
...but it is the last day I am going, because tomorrow I am calling in and then going up to Ashland, where my (nor Tom's) cell phone gets reception, and I am taking a week-long vacation.
I don't feel bad about this much.
(I mean, I do, because I feel really irresponsible, and I feel bad for the people I am abandoning on their shifts, and I feel nervous that Tom will find out and get really mad, and lots of other things...but it's not enough to make me stay here for three more days of work when I've quit and miss my only chance to go to Ashland until Christmas.)
I asked for those days off, I said I wasn't going to be in town, and it's my last days of work.
Tom can't find out though, or he'll get pissed.

I am going to Ashland, and dammit, I'm going to have a good time.
I wanna be strung out on coffee and anime and androgynous J-rockers, DeepWater Long Islands, good times with friends, and be completely irreverant. I'm attending Queeb; I'm going to the Shingle Shack Halloween party (if they are having one again). I'm getting a buzz off of anything the area has to offer, including the cold air off the Lake. I'm visiting with people, hanging out on the Mall, and generally being lazy as all hell.

(And do my homework for next week, of course, but there really isn't a lot of it, so I'm not that worried. About twenty pages of Tillich and 100 pages of Martin Luther to read, and I have to write a two-page paper on Augustine's "love-box"-- don't ask.)

I can't wait to be there. I wanna be there now. I have no idea how I'm going to make it through the next eight hours of work.

AND...I have the cutest Halloween costume! Yay for little black kitties!

I don't really have anything else to say... I guess I'll see most of y'all reading this pretty soon!
lykomancer: (Happy)
I. Really. Want. HotASLLady/Theresa.


Horny ramblings about HotASLLady )

Annie, if you ever move down here and we get a different apartment, I want to live in/nearer to Saint Paul (rather than Minneapolis). I like St. Paul better.

So, yes, I put in my two week's notice for work, and asked for most of next week off-- I should be in Ashland starting Tuesday-- and am now (pretty much) self-employed as a writing tutor at seminary. I can make my own hours and charge whatever I feel is reasonable...though I'm not sure what "reasonable" means in this case.
I'm technically not done with work until Halloween, but...Heh, bad Jess...since I asked for Tuesday through Friday off of next week, and that would mean that I'd be ending my vacation in Ashland to go back for my last two days of work, I might skip them and stay in Ashland for Halloween.
I remember parts of last Halloween, and what I remember, I want to experience again. ^_^
lykomancer: (Default)
So most of you know by now that I got my financial aid check.
It's really big. It's lots of money. It's enough money for my to live off of for half of a year, and it only has to last me until February...and then I get another one!


I really want to quit my job.
I can. I can afford to do that now.
I can quit my job and look for another one-- one that is actually satisfying, one that makes use of my expensive, expansive education, one that I won't be ashamed to put on a resume.

However...should I?
Probably not.
I should probably just go down to part-time, and then look for a job.

However, I want most of next week off anyway, and not having a job for a while would give me the flexible schedualing I need to do appointments with my therapist, day-long events, stuff up at school, and I could even go home (or at least somewhere) for Christmas. Plus the fact that J(anuary)-term is a month long session of class everyday, and I don't know how I would do that with the kind of work schedualing I have at my current job; I'm also seriously considering doing a full class load or four classes in spring, which Tom thinks will kill me, and then doing another J-term (June).

Another thing about this is that I want to quit, and I don't want to say, "Here's my two-week's notice." I want to basically do a "No-call, No-show" until they give up on me ever coming it, or else just call them up and say, "I quit!" and never go back. I want to be rid of it immediately, not horsing around until the first week in November.

Also, my advisor, Paul-sensei (I hope the two of you are happy; look what you have me doing!), suggested seriously that I talk to the Dean about being a writing tutor, and Tom says that that's a paid position. That would be handy...

lykomancer: (hurt)
I am currently enjoying the the feeling of my brain trying to forcefully escape through my eyes. I'm tired, sleepy, hungry, and I have two hours to go until my three hour long class.

I was scheduled to work this week forty hours-- yep, full time-- including working Thursday (which I requested off so that I had one guaranteed homework day), plus had a two-page paper to write and about four hundred pages of reading to do. I talked to my boss about Thursday, and all she was giving me was a "well, we'll have to work something out."
I worked from one until 8 yesterday, and that means I needed Tom to pick me up, as the bus doesn't run after 7. I also found out that Sheri left me a note asking if I could come in at 8:30 today instead of 10 like I was scheduled. Now, I already knew Tom was going to be late, but he ended up running later than he expected and didn't show up until ten after nine. So, I was sitting outside, freezing cold, thinking about all my homework, and knowing that I had to be back at work in twelve hours for roughly forty-five minutes.
I yelled at Tom in the car, and when we got home it was pretty quiet until I got out of the shower and threw myself on my couch and Tom tried to explain why he was late.
And I started fucking crying.
No, not frustrated crying, not I'm upset stuff, but real barking, gasping sobs. And I start in on Tom. About how the garbage needs to be taken out and he won't goddamm do it, and that he works so much less than me and he's only taking one more class that me (and yes, I know that one class means driving up to Ashland and everything that goes along with teaching), and how tired I am, and how I don't feel that it's fair that he sleeps in half-way through my work day and plays solitaire on the computer all night when I'm doing reading for class, and so on and so forth.

I don't think that got us anywhere.

First, he declared that he understood that "it's just the depression speaking," which would have pissed me off more if I hadn't been sobbing uncontrollably at that point. Second, he just kind of shrugged it off saying that he worked all during college, only ever failed one class, and that I just sat around and played then and that now he's decided to take it easy on himself and I've decided to go into overdrive. (This resulted in me shrieking at him that I don't want to have to push so hard, but I don't see any other way to make ends meet, and that I wanted a better job.)

I dunno, I'm still frustrated. I'm pretty sure this is a whopper of a tension headache, and as soon as I disengage myself from the internet I'm hunting down some water and pills.

God, this fuckin' sucks.

Tommorrow, I have off. Tomorrow, I am GETTING SHIT DONE.
Tomorrow, I am taking back the twenty-three library books I have out, hitting up Nicolet Ave for Jenny (I have a few things to send up with Tom, too... not sure it they are anything you want in particular, but I figure you can figure out something to do with 'em), maybe getting a badly needed haircut, doing all my reading for Thursday's class.

I feel terrible. Doesn't it ever stop?
lykomancer: (Default)
I'm going to anyway though.

Wow, it turned autumn in like, three days! I love it! (Although, I'd have liked a little more transition between 60 degree nights and 20 degree nights; that's a little bit too much, too fast.)

I'm feeling exhasperated with my life again. This grocery store crap is not my slice of the pie. I really wish I could find something more fulfilling.

On a completely unrelated note-- heh, heh...heheheh... --I felt crafty last night and started my first project (despite the fact that I have never used a pattern or a sewing machine before). My Anderson plushie has arms, gloves (yep, with the writing), and eyes. He is definately being made with more enthusiasm and love than skill, but that's OK.
Tom thinks I've taken a short dive off a long platform.
Oh, and if anyone has any suggestions on how in the hell to do plushie stubble, please feel free to share, 'cause I'm stumped.

Damn, I want to write more, but I need to catch my freakin' bus.

Oh, and I got my first paper back. The writing on it is just as completely illegible as Michele Small's. Grr... I can only make out two-thirds of each comment.
lykomancer: (Happy)
Second week of classes. My 2-page paper written and turned in, my assignments read, my peer groups introduced...
and I'm having the time of my life! ^_^

I love this! I feel so energized and good here, even during my evening class after working all day since seven am, even during my morning class that begins at eight. I get on campus and I don't want to leave; I could happily hang out here all day... in the library, on the lawn. Where ever. I feel great-- focused, aware, attentive. The people are all so friendly, and my professors are some of the best lecture-ers and speakers I have ever heard. Paul Captez (hey look, Jenny, another Paul!) lectured all Tuesday night, and I was not only interested in what he was saying (and how well he said it), but for the first time in my life, I took lots of notes! Eleazar and Chris, my Intro class profs, find the most eloquent yet understandable ways of making and illustrating points, and I can really see why Chris is the Preaching professor. I can't wait to take her class now.

I attend Thursday chapel ever week so far, and plan to continue doing so, and I just joined the choir-- the first choir I've been in since ninth grade, and man, does it feel good! I'm very excited and hope that we are able to preform for chapel service sometime this year. That'd rock my socks.

And with Tom up in Ashland for two to three days, I get the private alone time I so desperately, desperately need, so I'm feeling a lot more sane. Time sans Tom is happy, tail-wagging Inu-no-Jess-chan time.

I don't mean to say that everything is peaches and cream. I mean, I'm still working thirty-plus hours a week at the freakin' bakery; I failed my budget pretty righteously (I'll talk to Judith about that); and now that I've stayed on campus for choir and to write this, I have just witnessed the weather go from post-card perfect to abysmal in ten minutes and I have to walk to my bus stop; I need a new bus pass badly, and don't feel like going downtown to get one; I haven't heard back about my interview; et cetera, et cetera...

I feel stable, sane, happy, healthy. I am meeting new people and learning new things. I am advancing my education, and involving myself in my community. None of these are bad things.

And the one sign language interpreter for the deaf girl in my Intro class is hot.
Really hot.
I could stare at her-- yes, her; you read that right-- all day. Happily. Hornily. With an idiot grin plastered all over my stupid mug.
Hot ASL translator gives me yet another reason to attend class regularly! ^_~

Thank ya, God, and amen.


Sep. 18th, 2004 11:02 am
lykomancer: (Default)
Man, I think my boss is either peeved about having to rearrange things last week so that I could go to Ashland or something. I don't get a single day off until next Thursday-- that's a week straight with no days off at all. And all my shifts are seven and a half to eight hours long. :(

Fuckin' sucky, ne?

My matriculation interview (to become a full time student) is Monday evening, right after work, so at least that'll be out of the way.

Geez...I don't want to want to go to work. My job isn't hard, it's just soul-suckingly boring, repeatative, and I have to be on my feet the whole time.
And I come home to Tom.
(And, at this point, Paul Tillich)


More bizarre and interesting fanart from Solid and Etc. )
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)
So, I lost my job with Citizen Action because I didn't make quota.

However, Rainbow called me back. I have a job (provided that I don't have any lingering THC in my piss) making doughnuts full time. Yay for me.

Tom's way happier about it than I am, which is kind of sad, but understandable. I was Ok with having to do more searching at this point. I'd given up on a quick-fix, but here one is anyway.

Wish me luck, y'all.
lykomancer: (Default)
Jesus, I'm soaked in sweat for my little jaunt down here to the seminary. It's not even that hot...just humid and sticky.

Talked to Jenny last night. She's about the only person I know at this point who is doing well.

Then I talked to Wendy.
Wendy was my best friend in high school. We were inseparable; we hung out, we had lockers together, we were silly and crazy and a little weird. We kept more or less in touch throughout my early years of college, but with out phone humbers changing all the time, it was hard. I hadn't talked to Wendy in over two years before last night; I couldn't get in touch with her.

But we talked for about two hours, and I hung up the phone feeling terrible. She's tired and lonely and sick in spirit; she's stuck living in a place she calls "the land of the lemmings" at a dead-end Wal-mart job with no friends to hang out with and nothing but bad memories haunting her.
The Wendy I knew was bouncy and enthusiastic and silly through anything; she was like a force of nature. This Wendy is soft-spoken and reserved and hesitant.
God, it hurts me.
I'm going to call her back tonight and insist that she move out here. Tom wants her to, too. (Tom has a tendency to "rescue" people.)

I dunno... *sigh*

No word back from the closed captioning people, damn them. I start with Citizen Action today, phone canvassing, and damn, even though I need the money and I need the job, I really, really don't want to do this. I'm so tempted to just go home and say fuck it. I don't want to be on the phone four hours a night reciting the same phrases over and over to get fat-cat rich people to donate money while I can't afford a cup of coffee. Grr... why doesn't Barnes & Nobles or someone just freakin' call me back and hire me?

Still plugging away at my story. You know, the one with werewolf assassins and the Antichrist and vampire Jesus. It's going well, although the characters are not behaving as I think they should. (Though, this is hardly surprising, really.)

Right. I should consider heading out to catch my bus.


lykomancer: (Default)

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