Premeditated Misconduct

I've also been reading some of the post-Naruto Narutoverse manga/one-shots, since I'm having a run of nostalgia for all my old fandoms. I am legit not sure if I ever actually read the end of Naruto proper, but I was close enough to the end that nothing's confused me all that much, so...

Some things are weirdly irritating. I hate how hetero everything ended up. I mean, yes, that was to be expected but it's also kind of just... I don't know. Too neat and tidy and pat and tied up with a little freaking ribbon? (Although, I gotta say: I don't see Sasuke actually being in love with Sakura STILL. STILL They're married and have a kid and I'm like, Sasuke, you ice cold bastard, you had sex ONCE and only then to ensure an Uchiha heir. Mission accomplished, you moved on to never touching your wife again.)

Thank god for Orochimaru and his general beautiful weirdness, even in his approach to parenthood.
Mitsuki: "Are you my mother or father?"
Orochimaru: *shrug* "Who cares?"
Me: ROOOOOOOFFFFLE
(Bitch, I don't know how you Karma-Houdini-no-jutsu'd out of receiving ANY punishment for your entire life of assholery, but I DON'T CARE. I fucking love you. *happy sobbing*)

Also, HE FINALLY PUT HIS HAIR UP! And it's so PRETTY! *spins with heart eyes* It's exactly as I always pictured it~!

We've all known one: That Person who is so passionately, fervently into something-- idea, diet, worldview-- that their aggressive proselytism actually makes you want to go out and spite them (even, or even [i]especially[i], if you agree with their general point) just to distinguish yourself from them.

You know, the health nut that's so annoyingly, over-the-top insane with their diet and exercise that you want to eat an entire box of doughnuts in front of them while moaning ecstatically about how delicious they are. You hit the gym once a week; you go for runs in the morning; you eat organic kale and wild-caught salmon...but That Person is so goddamn aggravating that you just want to put your middle-finger through one of those doughnuts and slowly eat it off while making hostile eye contact.

Or the Christian that you go to church with who's holier-than-thou, always preaching to you about their spiritual journey with Christ and ignoring that whole "pray in a closet where no one can see you" thing. You are Christian yourself, but everything about That Person's sanctimoniously pious life rubs you wrong like a crown of thorns in your junk, and so there's that wicked little part of you that likes doing "unChristian" like things just to spit in their eye. It's a terrible impulse, but it feels SO. GOOD.


I've been trying to start to change my perspective. Typically, what I'm attempting to do is called "positive thinking", but that phrase makes me want to hurl, so I'm just calling it "changing my perspective". Just the name change makes it more palatable to me, and if I want to actually do this, it needs to be a palatable as possible.

Because this is not easy for me.
This is not a little shift in thinking.
[b]This is a massive, concentrated effort to manually rewrite my entire inner processing system from the ground up.[b]
As a result, this is staggeringly difficult.
Also, this completely inverts everything I thought I was, and everything I've been told I am, which makes it doubly challenging.
[b]Thus, this is also a massive overhaul of my own identity.[/b]

I'm trying. I'm trying. I wouldn't do it if I didn't come to the conclusion that it had benefits that I could understand. But it's difficult. I have to basically stop and reprocess every thought and emotion like I'm awkwardly translating everything between my ears into a foreign language in which I'm not particularly skilled.

I was doing better than I thought.
And then I met That Person.
That Person who, in this case, managed to spin me into a depressive fit out of sheer malignant spite

Now, I have to go back to my struggle to change my perspective, with all of the challenges I already faced, even when all I want to do right now is wallow in my own angry, pessimistic glory.

Anyone who wants holiday mail, please email me your address!

Lykomancer
@
gmail.com

So a few weeks ago, my scary-awesome manager Toni and I got into a discussion about books. Then, because I read a lot, she asked me about Cassie Claire's City of Bones series. I laughed and explained why I won't read them, which didn't help her. She was more concerned by the implied incest at the end of the first book, and wanted to know if it was real/continued as a incestuous romance. (It isn't really incest.) We got to talking about this, and I mentioned that incest is a fairly common kink and that the internet is chock-full of incestuous fanfic and people who dig that.

Her mind = blown.
Also, I think she assumed that I only knew this because it was a kink of mine. LOL.

Fast forward to today, and I helped out a guy who needed a new printer-- primarily for printing and copying stuff for his Pathfinder campaign. So when Toni asked about the sale, I mentioned this. She had no idea what tabletop gaming was, so I found myself explaining D&D/tabletop gaming. And then LARPing. And then the differences between LARPing and cosplay.

So when I come in from a smoke break, I find all three managers-- Toni, Eric, and Megan-- staring at me as I walk through the doors. Turns out, they were discussing all the odd things I talk about...which went downhill, since I mentioned MLP fandom, clopfic, furries, 'looners, and crush videos.

I'm pretty sure they all think I'm entertaining, but epically fucked up now.

Really, isn't some of this stuff now considered common knowledge among those younger than say, 30 or so with an internet connection?

Being a responsible adult is hard*.

Make and maintain your budget. Pay your bills. Manage your money. Balance your checkbook. Save. Invest. File household paperwork. File receipts.

Try to be healthy. Cook. Plan meals. Do dishes. Keep kitchen clean. Exercise. Keep bike maintained. Go to the gym when possible. Count calories in and out. Sleep well. Get up on time. Eat regular meals and snacks-- not junk food. Keep up headache journal and mood journal and period tracker. Take medication and multivitamin. Drink water. Clip coupons. Make grocery list. Shop. Plan around food stamp date.

Be neat, clean, and well-maintained. Brush skin. Put on oil. Apply cuticle cream. Shave neckbeard. Clean face. Condition hair. Clip nails. Apply make-up. Remove make-up.

Go to work. Pack lunch. Plan for transit. Have cash on hand for taxi. Purchase bus tickets. Keep work clothes clean. Keep bag organized. Remember all relevant information to correctly perform job. Be good-humored and patient at job.

Do laundry. Sweep floors. Clean bathroom. Water plants. Feed cats. Feed fish. Feed turtles. Feed rats. Feed gerbils. Feed hermit crabs. Also, water all of them, too. Feed cats again. Brush cats. Clean rodent bedding. Clean litterboxes. Dust. Wash towels. Change water in aquariums regularly. Put stuff away. Remember where stuff is.



...and that's all without mentioning hobbies like collecting and drying herbs, foraging for plants, making herbal projects; borrowing and returning library books, reading, paying late fees; repairing clothing or needlepoint crafting; internet time; gaming; watching anime or television with Jinya; painting, drawing, and writing; or going out for any reason.




I don't know if I have enough RAM for this.







* See also: No Shit, Sherlock.
And no, I don't have kids and I only have one job. WTF.

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.

ONE.
BY.
ONE.

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.

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.


Ugh.


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.


Anywho.
Back off to work. With luck, Dana's not there today. I don't want to spend my shift murderous.

I feel a rather inappropriate amount of attraction to my 20 year old, not-single coworker.

Don't get me wrong. I like Trent. He's ridiculously funny, intelligent, self-deprecating, topically aware and into obscure cultural stuff like cult films. He's a great guy. We're friends.

But I'm not talking about a crush. I'm talking about lust. I'd bang that kid like a screendoor in a hurricane if given half a chance. OM NOM NOM MOTHERFUCKER.

The move went well. We're still unpacking and shuffling things, and there are still a few boxes in storage (books, primarily), but overall, the hardest stuff's mostly done.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about.

I'm here to talk about Sherlock.

As a break from moving heavy shit, we went and saw the new Star Trek movie, which is full of beautiful, beautiful men. Pine, Quinto, and...well, hello, who's that? Yeah, that one there, the one with that sexy, make-me-quiver baritone and those pretty clear blue-gray eyes playing the villain? I LOVE ME SOME PSYCHOPATHIC VILLAINS. ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE PRETTY. His mouth moves kinda oddly when he talks, sure, but who cares? I could listen to him all freakin' day.

That night, I was perusing the internet, as I tend to do, and suddenly noticed that a Fandom Secret post with that pretty man-- Benedict Cumberbatch, playing the titular Sherlock Holmes.

OH. Well. In that case, it's really awesome that we have our tv set up in the living room and Netflix available on it.

So we've been watching Sherlock.

Right now I'm in that irritating phase of media consumption. I've seen enough to been squirrelly about the series and characters and want to hunt fanfic and fanart...but I haven't seen the whole series and I am trying to stay relatively unspoiled, which means no peeping online at ANYTHING.

ARGH.

lkdsfalkdsafjlsdkfjaslkfjsldakfjsadlfkjasdlkfjGODDAMMIT. I want to just sit down and mainline the next episodes, but I'm BEING NICE AND WAITING FOR JINYA. WTF; I ALWAYS END UP CRUSHING ON HOLMES IN JUST ABOUT ANY REBOOT/INCARNATION-- GOD WHY IS THERE SOMETHING SO HOT ABOUT A AUTISTIC CELIBATE GENIUS!?-- AND I KIND OF HATE BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH FOR BEING SO GODDAMN PRETTY AND SUCH A GOOD ACTOR. FUCKITY FUCK.

I'LL BE IN MY BUNK.

So the drugs work.

And I mean, they really, really work.


It's strange. There's a small part of me that's actually unsure of how I feel about this change. It's unfamiliar enough that I almost feel like a different me-- I still live in the same place (not for long!) and eat the same food and like the same things...but emotionally, I'm not the same. If I say, "I feel settled, like the storm passed and now I'm in smooth, beautiful tropical waters", that gives the wrong impression because it implies that "I" am actually still the same "I". But that's not right. I feel like that was another life, or another character, or another story. I don't know. It's difficult to explain.

I'm full of restless energy much of the day, chatty and cheerful, humming and giggling. I'm not quite giddy, but damn close. I feel a need to do things-- not in the sense of obligation or the "this HAS to happen" sense, but just because I need something to do. And so I do things. And I don't feel bitchy or grumpy about it; doing stuff doesn't wear me out, or quickly siphon that shallow, murky pool of energy, motivation, and patience dry.

Maybe this is temporary. I don't know.

It's all very strange.