Aug. 26th, 2008 03:12 pm
lykomancer: (Ok in the End)
Her older brother Matt's coming tomorrow and probably staying until she's out, which will be-- at least as she's told me-- Thursday afternoon.

Is is wrong of me to pack a few changes of clothes and evacuate the house for a few days? Is it bad of me to, well, run away, when I know that her brother will try to yell at/talk to me?
lykomancer: (Jiraiya Smirk)
Example #20495:

Today I am wearing-
- lime green linen capri pants
- a white t-shirt with "Fuck Your Fascist Beauty Standards" calligraphied on it
- no bra
- bright blue jelly shoes
- lime green wood bead Target-dollar-bin choker
- plastic neon floral-print Target-dollar-bin bangle bracelet

No, I don't blame her for flinching.
Yes, I think reading The Bohemian Manifesto was a lot like a college fashion refresher course. (I think a lot of my Northland friends would think I look awesome right now.)


Mar. 7th, 2008 11:40 am
lykomancer: (BANG!)
Wendy, from her room: Hey. What's a "yurt"?
Me, without hesitation: Isn't it like, a type of Mongolian dwelling?
Wendy: ...

........I hate you so bad. HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU KNOW THAT?!!?!?!
Me: *laughing so hard I'm choking on phlegm*

Apparently, there are Jeopardy try-outs this evening at the Sears court in MOA. I'm trying to decide if I want to go. I'm still pretty sick, but it could be a lot of fun, and if I got on Jeopardy, I could make shit-tons of money.
lykomancer: (Zero Hug)
She'd bought some leftover Valentine's candy.

In particular, she bought one of the huge 5 oz Reese's hearts for us to share.

To share it, she smashed it apart.

And then held out the bits cradled in their red and silver foil wrapper, smiled, and said, "Want a piece of my broken heart?"
lykomancer: (Easily amused)
"Now everyone can feel holy when they go to sit on the throne!"
-- Wendy, upon hanging a wooden sign above the bathroom door that reads, "The Rec-tory," which we picked up at a church sale this afternoon for two bucks.

Oh, yeah. And my keychain is rapidly devolving into an ongoing FMA joke:
I need a lightbulb now. )
lykomancer: (WTF?)
I had one of the most bizarre experiences of my entire adult life last night while shopping with Wendy in the grocery store.
We had gone out because Wendy wanted to make her cardiac-arrest bacon-wrapped cheesedogs again, and she wanted to pick up hotdog buns and ketchup and a few other odds'n'ends. After navigating Wendy through the store relatively quickly-- that's a special skill, let me assure you-- we finally stopped in front of the bread aisle, right next to the cash registers. The buns were the last thing we needed.
...and then, suddenly, out of no where, this little 6-8 year-oldish Hispanic girl with pigtails and a red shirt came up to Wendy and started pointing and laughing at her loudly. And babbling in some language that definitely wasn't English, and which I am not sure was even Spanish. It certainly didn't sound like Spanish to me, anyway.
Wendy and I just stood there, staring at this rather peculiar spectacle in tolerant, speechless bemusement, until I finally started giggling. "You jes' got told," I said smugly.
...and then, suddenly, there was ANOTHER identical little Hispanic girl with pigtails and a red shirt who promptly began pointing, laughing, and scolding me in the weird language! O_o! And they did this for like three to five minutes, just standing there, waving their little index fingers and yelling incomprehensibly, and then doubling up laughing and blowing raspberries at us!
WTF? I mean, seriously, WTF?
Wendy and I finally absolutely lost it about thirty seconds after the second one showed up, giggling nervously at first, unsure of how to respond to this-- I mean, were they making fun of us, or what? How do you begin to handle a situation like this?-- but by the time they vanished and we had checked out, heading for the car, our stomachs hurt from laughing so damned much.
We had just gotten told off and laughed at by a spontaneously-appearing-and-disappearing set of little Hispanic twin girls in an unknown language, and that, my friends, is pretty well FUBAR.

On a completely unrelated note, I met a very pretty ditzy boy named Luke tonight. Mmmm... Just how I like 'em: lovely and a little dizzy upstairs.
DAMMIT! Why don't the pretty boys like me? I like them! I like them a damned lot, and I'd like to like them more, if'n ya follow me! The naughty, naughty things I dream about doing...

EVAN! Next time you visit, I am SO FUCKING molesting you! GRRRRR...
lykomancer: (WOO-HOO I'm NAKED!)
...and I suddenly remember how much I love Fullmetal Alchemist and why. *drools shamelessly* The animation, the style, the themes, the characters, the music... *sigh* I am happily falling back in love. (And I just know I'm gonna be sobbing like a little girl come episode 25 again...
...I need to write HughesxEnvy smut!)

I just sat down with Wendy and watched the first nine episodes. Not only am I now readdicted (with my mind already gearing up some EdxEnvy and RoyxEd), but now I've hooked Wendy on it too, to my absolute delight! It's nice to have company, and Wendy's picking up on Japanese phrases as fast as Hagane-no-Ochibi-san can spit them out. ^_^ Yay~!
(Wendy was in tears over NinAlexander. If you get so involved that you cry over characters, you know it's a good series.)

I also am slowly working my way through Wolf's Rain, and I can feel some Tsume/Kiba microfics working their way to the surface. I'm still digging in my total Hige love, though that one moment when Kiba and Cheza meet for the first time is so sweet! Awww... puppy/flower love!
Does anyone know where I might be able to find the end theme to download?

I drew an excellent sketch of Teresa-san, but since my computer was a bitch last week and crashed, my Photoshop isn't working and so I can't scan it it. Sadness and woe. Well, I'm sure Jen will fix it in five minutes when she gets back, so...
*wanders off to stare at said drawing for a few moments*
Really excellent sketch.

Wendy and I lost our Ikea viginity today, and that was an interesting experience. The place is a fruckin' cult! They have their own batteries, and food, and a restaurant. You could literally live there for like a week, and I don't think anyone would notice, provided you slept in different display rooms each night. We brought home catalogs to show to Tom, and now the three of us are possessed with the idea of completely renovating our apartment...

I'm going to bed now, because I should
lykomancer: (humanity is stupid)

Wendy met a nice man at work (at Wal*Mart), and lo and behold, they began hanging out and then dating.
No problem. Bully for her. Yatta. And all that good jazz.

Wendy started going to church with Ryan.
Cool. I have no beef with Wendy going to church, even a Christian one.

Then I found out that Ryan's church is a really big, really fundamentalist, evangelical church. (AKA: The Big Scary Gospel-Center in Fridley.)
Aha. Then I was on my toes, paying a little more attention.

Wendy converted to Christianity.
O.o;; Um. Whatever floats her boat, right? No thank you; I don't care for any.

Then she started spouting off weird and unWendy-like things, like saying how she feels bad about swearing and listening to her music (music, that, less than four weeks ago, she was squealing over in joy and trying to get me to appreciate). She started reading the Bible and going to prayer circles. She's talking about buying Christian rock and the Bible on CD.

I laid down the law. I said, I don't care what you believe, but you must never, never tell anyone in the house that they are going to Hell, and you must always question what you are told. Seek your own answers; don't just passively accept what they tell you.

I'm worried because I think that Ryan has an unhealthy hold over her, not because of who and what he is, but because of the idea she has of him. The unhealthy hold is in her own mind; a constrain she puts on herself, and that alarms me. She'll do anything to make him happy, and I don't get the sense that he's making similar adjustments. I'm not seeing a compromise-- that happens in every relationship-- but one person completely accommodating another.
The other night when Ryan was helping Wendy clean out her room, he threw away her CDs. Yeah, he did it playfully, right in front of her, and into a temporary trash bag she could easily fish them out of, but still... To me, that's so beyond not cool. That's a violation, and it's unacceptable.

I have this idea-- for right or wrong-- that the most important person in my life is and always will be me. My obligation to myself-- to be true to what I want, love, enjoy, and who I am-- is greater than any other relationship obligations. It's not that I am unwilling to compromise for someone I love; I already mentioned that as a given...but I feel that compromise is reciprocal. (e.g. I'll try to become a vegetarian for you and you try to keep the house cleaner for me.) I also believe that when you really, truly love someone, you want to change for them and you accept their shortcomings as well as their good points; in a mutual relationship when all involved feel the same way, the changes and acceptances more or less balance out.

And I'm just not seeing that here.

And I'm not sure how to tell Wendy that I'm worried that I think she's in an emotionally abusive relationship.
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: (Default)
This morning, taking Derek to work-- who, even though he's been going to the same place for three weeks, did not know the way there... This is at the two hour mark (to a place that is twenty minutes from home):
Wendy, on the phone with a woman at Derek's work: Yeah, well that's part of our problem. We don't know which direction east is.
The Lady on the Phone: Follow the sun.
Wendy, repeating: Oh...follow the sun!
Me and Derek: *fall over laughing*

Two nights ago while having an extremely pleasant time with Jenny, Owen, David, and their friends Mike and EJ-- Ok, so Jenny wasn't having a good time, but dammit, I sure was-- I called home to see if Jenny would be able to get in and get some files off her computer.
Heard Wendy and Derek screaming at one another.
Went home.
Owen wanted/s to moderate so that 911 doesn't have to be called and work it out so that Derek comes up with the idea "on his own" to move out. By the time we got that established and got back home, Derek was in bed, so we let it slide.
Tom, of course, heard about this, and the next day had an anxiety attack bad enough that he spent most of the day in the hospital. They sent him home saying, "maybe you should trying eating and sleeping." No shit, you dumb bastards; I didn't realize you needed a medical degree, millions of dollars of equipment, hundreds of dollars in payment, and six hours to figure that out! I thought that might be self-evident.

Yesterday was a complete wash.
Didn't get internet. Don't have a new working computer. Didn't get to check my email (which is ok, because what I'm waiting for wasn't there anyway).

The only up-side is that Derek came home only minutes after Tom (who began shaking the minute he saw Derek), and so went I was escorting Tom into his room and making sure that he ate and got situated, Jenny was executing Owen's plan, and by the time I got out to the living room, Derek was proudly announcing his plans to find his own apartment. He went out with Jenny, and they already got some apartment guides.
(Really, I want him back in PA... as far away from me and mine as I can manage...but at this point, I'll take what I can get.)
lykomancer: (Default)
Returning to the idea of my housemates...

Wendy is Wendy, though not as high-strung as I remember her, but then, we haven't gotten a whole lot of time to sit around and talk either, since she's working most of the time. I don't think there will be many problems with Wendy.

As for Derrick, what I really want is to "convert" him. I eventually want to get him at the same place as Tom and I. I want to make him more aware that stating that the Japanese can't blink because their eyes are always slanted shut anyway is a racist comment (which he inisted wasn't, because it was true... *SIGH*). I want to nurture and cultivate a sense of social awareness and tact, make him more aware of what he is saying and how it sounds to other people, open up his mind.
Is it going to take a lot of work? Yes.
Is it worth it? Yep.
Am I going to want to throttle him a lot? Oh, yeah.
If he lives through it, he'll be a better person.

Though I am kind of tired of chasing after my housemates and yelling at them:
Please remember to turn off the lights/stereo/tv if you aren't going to be in the room!
Please remember to lock the doors when you leave!
Please stop leaving empty cans/bags/packages in the 'fridge/on the counter/in the cupboards! (Tom, that means YOU!)
Please rinse out the tub when you are done using it! (i.e. "I know that is not my hair in there, because mine is not that long.")
And for the love of God and all that is holy, will someone besides me please take out the trash!?

God, I've become Mommy Jess. Shoot me now.
...actually, shoot them. Someplace non-fatal, of course, since I need them to be able to pay their share of rent.

I'm still a little shell-shocked from yesterday. I randomly start grinning for no appearant reason a lot, thinking with joy and absolute amazement how wonderfully casually pleased she seemed accepting my invitation. She tossed her hair and licked her lips, and I know-- I don't know why I know, but I do-- that those are subtle signs of flirtation.
God, I'm such a dork. ^_^

I have applied for a PR position at a local Unitarian church (8hrs/wk, 13$ per hour); I sent in a short story manuscript to a magazine for possible publication; I am living in a cool, big apartment; and I am sooooo happy 'cause I will eventually be able to see Teresa-san again outside of class.

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)

May 2017

78 910111213


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 24th, 2017 03:01 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios