Premeditated Misconduct

For two weeks, my boss scheduled me for opens. I'm 99% diurnal now. Let's see how long this lasts. (Although, to be honest? I do actually feel more energetic now. I'm usually up by 8:30 and bored enough to go for epic, hours-long walks by 10:30.)

Today I:
-- walked to the utility company (2.5 mile round trip) and scheduled power for our new apartment
-- got alcohol for tinctures
-- returned my library books
-- did the dishes
-- did my laundry
-- took the trash out
-- finished The Twelve
-- did my pre-algebra "homework"
-- got transportation money
-- planned out moving with Jinya
-- made tinctures
-- wrote a few paragraphs on my Dragonlance novel

As for my doctor's visit the other week, my bloodwork came back normal. I have to schedule a new appointment, but I need to refile for MinnesotaCare first...especially since I got my $1,700 bill today. Jesus H.


Currently steeping:
Dandelion tincture
Cleavers tincture
Wild violet infused oil.

( Pic! )

I sort of hate the sudden onset of spring. While everyone else is cheerfully exclaiming, "Isn't it beeeeyyyuuutiful!? and sighing like they've finally reached orgasm, I'm restless and short-tempered and weepy. Oh, and half the time I feel like I'm baking inside of my own skin, which absolutely no one understands; about a third of the people I meet are still cold, and everyone else is happy.

Fuckers.

In a few weeks, I'll adjust better. After all, the weather shifted from 45 to 75/80 in about 36 hours, and my body really doesn't like abrupt changes like that. In a few weeks, there will be leaves on the trees and thus some shade instead of blaring sunlight that feels like it's searing my translucent skin to a nice, crispy, well-done consistency.

In a few weeks, I'll be packing and moving. I'll have stuff to do and a lot to think about. I'll be re-experiencing the joys of having my own place, of having space in the fridge for my food, of not living in a cluttered shit-hole.

But right now I'm miserable.

The house is so damn cluttered that even if I began packing what little I have in my room-- most is still in storage from when we moved here, so packing up should only take me a few hours, tops-- there's no where to put the boxes. No where.

The warm weather makes me feel sweaty and nauseous, but also restless, fidgety, obligated to go somewhere and do something so that I don't waste these few temperate days that exist between our frigid, icy winter and tropically hot, humid summer. But I don't know what to do. My piece o' shit bike is still up where I can't get it even if I wanted to ride it. I do go for walks, but they're unsatisfying. There's nothing green yet anywhere except for a few sprouts and a little grass, not even dandelions yet. I go for walks in bare sunlight in empty woods, bored and unfulfilled.


( Food, body, weight issues. Trigger warning if this topic is upsetting for you. )

I really want to see a doctor. I need to get on state insurance first. I want to ask about my non-stop periods and hypoglycemia and weight and depression and bad reactions to birth control and non-reactions to anti-depressants.

Blah.

On and off again flirtation with mid-grade melancholy. Dissatisfaction brightening to apathy briefly before shading back into dissatisfaction, like clouds and sun on a heavily overcast day. Annoyance, gloom. This doesn't have the dignity of true depression, not even mild depression. Depression cuts, its blade so sharp that the first sensation is cold numbness; the pain hits afterward. This feels more like fingering a bruise, only less voluntary and without the masochistic pleasure. There's no storm, no lightning, no thunder, no rain; just clouds and oppressive humidity.

I'm not lonely, precisely. I prefer solitary. Since moving to Owatonna two years ago I have made no new friends at all, and I see the ones I had before I moved less often. (Not that I was particularly sociable even when I could see them more frequently.) I don't mind only having Jinya. That's enough.

Part of me would desperately like to date, although I think this has more with the idea that I want to just to prove that I still can and less to do with any real desire to see someone. I would like to have sex with a real live human being again sometime. That'd be nice. I'd like the assurance that I am still desirable. But other than that...? No. I have no interest in other people. I don't want to met anyone. I don't want to get to know anyone. I don't want to deal with their issues. I don't want to "train" anyone. I don't want to have to explain myself. I don't want to have to defend my boundaries.

I can handle the idea of making a friend, if the opportunity arose. (And I am becoming friend-ish with some of my coworkers.) But getting close enough to "date" someone just makes me feel tired and preemptively irritated.

And I don't feel particularly desirable anymore, which chafes. My hair is strongly grey. I'm pasty white, furry, and overweight. I'm 32, which means I am starting to feel twinges of guilt when I contemplate fucking 20 year olds...guilt, and a little bit like I'm over-reaching. Yes, I could attempt to "fix" the things about myself that bother me: dye my hair, tan, shave, diet and exercise, etc. There are some limitations on those "fixes" (such as the fact that we only have a shower and not a bathtub, and I can't see well enough to shave in the shower while bent double with water pouring in my face to accomplish much of anything other than razor burn...and it's not even worth the effort since I have freaking stubble by the time I get upstairs to my room)...but the real issue is my own stubbornness. I don't want to. I don't need to "fix" my-fucking-self. I don't need to, and by God, I'm not fucking going to.

Some people look at themselves and don't like what they see, so they make these insane or grandiose attempts to correct themselves, make themselves look like what society says they should look like. I look at myself, and when I don't like it, I just make myself deal with it. I'm not sure if that's any more mentally healthy, honestly.

( TMI-- blood and genital talk )

Two of my bosses have a horrible flu virus. Here's to hoping I don't have to deal with that, too.

I think I'm getting sick.

Sneezing? Check.
Runny nose? Check.
Stuffed sinuses? Check.
Coughing? Check.
Sore throat? Check.
Fatigue? Check.

Fucking brilliant.

MOTHERFUCKING OW. OW OW OW OW.

I think I broke my left pinky toe again.

OW.

So, I was sick over my vacation two weeks ago. Influenza or something like it-- pneumonia or bronchitis, maybe; it was pretty vile.

Then it moved into a mild sinus infection that steadily got worse.

Now the fucking shit's in my ear. My right ear, to be specific. I'm on day three of my antibiotics; I've slept for about 24 hours straight; and I can't hear shit. My ear's plugged solid with mucus or something. The pain from the pressure has made me cry and resort to a diet of Aleve.

My managers must think I'm sick all the time.

I swear to god that it's that place. The stress. The lack of daylight. All the other crap.

aldkfjflkgjfdg.

Brilliant me, I food poisoned myself Wednesday night with my as-usual extremely undercooked burgers, and spent all of yesterday sick as hell and purging everything from my system.
I threw up so much and so hard that it hurts to breath-- my muscles are that sore still.

I think I'm going back to not eating beef again.

Yep, fuck. I broke half of my first molar off last night. D:
Which actually doesn't really bother me all that much in and of itself. I mean, it's not like it hurts and I can still eat.
But it's breaking off at gum-level, which means that the roots are still embedded. D: D:
So tomorrow, Lyko's going to try calling some of the dentists in the Metro with sliding fees and free services, because it seriously can't be put off anymore.
This is going to be a) terrifying, b) painful, and c) expensive no matter what.
Fuuuuuuuck.

But other than that, yesterday was another good day at work.
I got two of phone numbers-- Jinya's and Krista's-- since "we need to hang out sometime", which gives me the warm fuzzies.
I managed to make Chris from cafe blush like a girl on our first breaks by playing/psuedo-flirting with him. (...he said that he tasted like he was 21. I raised a brow and grinned and went, "Oh, really? Taste yourself often?" and off we went down into the gutter.)
We decided that we need to have cage matches. That'd be awesome.

Anyway. Got to run.

My teeth are sweet and cold sensitive. My teeth are also going to hell pretty rapidly because I love sugar a lot and because I am terrified of dentists and thus have only gone to one once.
I had such a bad toothache yesterday that I couldn't sleep, couldn't think, and the damned pain couldn't be drowned out with drugs. Not that I didn't try. Six extra strength Tylonol PMs, enough Ambesol to make me sick to my stomach, three shots of vodka, and a pipeful of something less than legal later I was not only still in pain, but I was amazingly still conscious! Holy what the rolling fuck. Usually, the vodka would have been enough to make the sleep-urge overwhelming, and I'm pretty touchy toward anything that might make you drowsy, so those Tylenols should have knocked me on my ass.
Not this time. And I was too fog-brained to really stay awake-- yeah, I tried that, too.
My original intent was to nap from 4 pm yesterday until midnight or so, maybe earlier. That was shot to shit, and then I tried just being awake. That wasn't so swell, either. So then I just decided that I wasn't leaving my bed until I slept.
Last night was fucking miserable.
But I did eventually sleep. That was a wasted 20 hours of my life.
Face still hurts, but not nearly so bad. Also, the ache is radiating up into my ear, which makes me wonder if the problem is with the tooth-- probably-- or if I might have gotten swimmer's ear from the one time I went swimming, 'cause I remember that being very well close to this bad. Great, fabulous.
I want to eat-- haven't done that in almost a full day-- but I'm afraid of setting that stupid tooth off again.

Wendy wanted to go out and do stuff today, and I just don't know if I'm really up for it. Mostly, I feel like going back to bed (O_o!) and reading.

On a completely unrelated note, I think I'm actually losing weight. I looked at myself naked in the mirror today and didn't immediately feel a compulsive need to hide my body under as much clothing as I could possibly simultaneously wear. Maybe Jenny has something here in her strange idea of eating less fat and processed sugar and exercising more. Shocking. ^_^

(I think I am--sickly and sadly-- on my way to becoming a gym junkie. I play racquetball and swim and use the weight machines and the ellipticals like a fiend. Maybe I'm venting all that pent-up anger my therapist keeps commenting on. *cries* I wanna be a lazy bum!)

Damn. I just looked at the calender. I'm going to be 24 in 16 days. Dude. That's not right.
*looks again* And Tom and I might be visiting Ashland in three weeks.