Premeditated Misconduct

Alright! *cracks knuckles* You know the drill; comment to be added.
Anything anyone wants to know about me will be found here, and this page will be continually updated as I find and write more.

ATTN: This is no longer my fanworks journal! If you are looking for my fanfiction, head over to metamorphe, please.

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.

Now, five years later, I occasionally find myself missing Randy.

Odd.

Time's worn down all the edges.

I can remember being angry with him and feeling frustrated with the shit he pulled, but I struggle to remember the majority of what actually pissed me off. (There are a few notable exceptions.)

The sex was very, very good.

My fonder memories of spending time with him have that smooth gloss of nostalgia: watching MST3K; the week-long submarine sandwich and hotdog feasts; hanging out at cafes; playing catch with a football in the park.

It felt like I was with him such a long time. In truth, it was only a little over a year.

If he hadn't been so antagonistic, or I so short-tempered, then maybe the differences between us wouldn't have mattered as much...but we were and they did. Besides, he never loved me. He denied that we were ever dating.


And I'm disappointed to realize that, five years later, my life is in worse shape than it was then. I have gone nowhere in five years. I've stagnated.

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.

Things I want another person to do for me:

- Extensive skin-brushing.
- Extensive hair brushing.
- Shave me. Thoroughly.
- Slather my entire body in oil.
- Massage and orgasm optional.

I wonder how long that would all take. I figure I'd be greedy about the first two and demand at least an hour a piece because it would feel so damned good. Nngghh. I figure that's the sort of thing I'd have to pay for-- well, minus the last optional item-- and I'm down with that. (Using standard massage rates, it'd run around $50/hr, which is more than reasonable.)

( First, Naruto fangirling )


Ask Me Anything Meme
Stolen from ze bleed_peroxide

Basically, a free-for-all for you guys to be nosy, or if you're newer, to figure out shit you're not really clear on. I'm enabling the anon option-- as soon as I remember how-- in case you don't feel comfortable asking something "face-to-face", as it were. I'm also posting it with the hopes that it spreads - sometimes with LiveJournal and such the way it is, people change and you're like, "Wait, so what was that? I don't remember. Oh wait, you were different last I hear about ____. Clarify for me, please?" I've certainly picked had those moments.

While there's a list here, I guess it'd be fair to extend it to any particulars you're curious about.

1. Sexual orientation.
2. What I’m really bad at.
3. The one person whose arms I’d like to be in.
4. My best first date.
5. A description of my self-esteem.
6. Who my best friends are.
7. My favorite book.
8. Biggest turn-offs.
9. A description of my best friend.
10. My favorite animal.
11. Someone I miss.
12. The reason behind my last breakup.
13. What I did yesterday.
14. What my greatest achievement is.
15. A description of the person I dislike most.
16. My 5 favorite songs right now.
17. How my last kiss went down.
18. What I find attractive in the preferred sex.
19. All of the pets I’ve ever had.
20. Favorite flavor of ice cream.
21. The one place I want to be right now.
22. The meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.
23. Where I have lived before.
24. I’ll love you if…
25. What are my future plans?
26. An internal conflict I have with myself.
27. What I’m doing tomorrow.
28. What I want to be when I get older.
29. Most embarrassing moment.
30. Two of my insecurities.
31. What I would do if I won the lottery.
32. A description of the boy or girl I like.
33. What I love most about myself.
34. My biggest pet peeves.
35. What bands I’ve seen live.
36. How many kids I want in the future.
37. My idea of a perfect date.
38. What I’m really good at.
39. Most traumatic experience.
40. Where I would like to live.
41. The nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
42. Do I like where I am now?
43. My relationship with my sibling(s).
44. All the pets I’ve ever had.
45. What I can hear right now.
46. My biggest worry currently.
47. Something I’ve wished for repeatedly.
48. My relationship with my parents.
49. Something I should have said a long time ago.
50. What my last text message says.

If I knew how to quit without committing suicide, I would.

Then again, committing suicide would be far more pro-active of an action than I am capable of taking at this juncture in time. If I had that kind of resolve, I wouldn't be in this position.


( I'm sitting alone and crying into my coffee like a loser. )

...and it's getting a little ridiculous.

I can't sleep. Like, I get tired, lay down, catnap, and then wake up-- and I mean that I am fully awake-- in two hours. I lay in bed the rest of the night trying to doze off and mostly, more-or-less failing. I still feel...well, not tired exactly, but gritty. Unrested even if I'm not tired. I'm not sure if I should work with this, or just take a Benadryl to pass my ass out.

I can't eat. I'm hungry, but food revolts me. Nothing sounds good at all and trying to eat triggers a gag response about 85% of the time. I did alright last night at the Chatterbox with Jen and everyone, but that was the only time I ate all day. Thinking about trying to have some yogurt now before work turns my stomach.


I'm thinking of all the doctors' appointments that I have to make.
It's time for the annual violation-- yay.
I NEED to get my dental work done now; my teeth are killing me (and Mike, in an absolute orgy of kindness, is giving me only weekends off, which makes scheduling appointments with my local dentist impossible).
A chiropractor wouldn't be a bad idea; I know for certain that my back needs work, my hips are out of alignment, and I very obviously need prescription shoe inserts. (I grind down the outside heel of every pair of shoes I own within a few weeks. That's not right.)
And I'd like to see about getting contacts in the nearish future.

I can schedule at least two of these today on break if I don't forget, and the other two tomorrow. I need to get this done, and I've been putting it off because I dislike going to the doctor for financial reasons (even with insurance). But I need to start prioritizing, and my health isn't expendable.

Time to act like a grown-up, moron.

Just for the record, my boring-ass life-- pardon me, Kevin Smith!-- goes down something more or less like this.


Alarm goes off, playing Matchboz 20's "Unwell". Contemplate getting up. Shut off alarm; reset it for an hour later, since Jinya's giving me a ride and I don't have to catch the bus today. Also, open the door and let my stupid cat in my room. Try to go back to not-sleep day-dreamy land so that I can plunge back into my ongoing mental story that rips off a lot of characters and plotlines of other things I've read. Unfortunately for me, it's windy and since I broke whatever stasis the door was in, it is now banging back and forth, despite my efforts to make it stop. Cat starts clawing at my bed because he now wants out.

There's no peace, sayeth the Lord, for the wicked.

So I get out of bed. Can't shower because Jinya's showering. Weird, really. She usually does that at night. Come downstairs, check the interwebbings, poke around for something like breakfast, end up eating half a pound of cherries. (Almost frozen cherries-- our fridge is too cold.)

Tea or coffee? Decide on coffee. Realize that Wendy has not cleaned old coffee out from pot despite doing all the other dishes. Clean coffee pot and fill it with water and grounds. Press "on" and wander off to read one of my library books. (Too Scared to Cry, about the manifestation of trauma in children.)

Somewhile later, realize there's no smell or sound of coffee perking. Get up and stare at unworking coffeemaker. Press the on/off switch a few times for good measure. Stare. Come to the conclusion that the machine is not plugged in. Feel retarded. (And then plug it in.)

Jinya comes downstairs and wakes Wendy to go to Target. They got coupons for 30$ off expensive cat litter boxes and they want to pick them up. (Wendy's coupon habit DOES pay off. I've also been drinking free bottles of Life Water for a long while; she ebayed a massive package of freebie coupons months ago.)

Wendy disappears into her bathroom. I figure I am never getting to shower. Check the weather, check my bank account, read my book, drink my coffee.

Wendy emerges from bathroom. I comment on my need to shower. She gives me a funny look. "I wasn't showering," she tells me, then grins. "I was poopin'. And if that's too much information for you, well, you asked!"

Yeah, I totally did.

Go upstairs. Shower. Whilst in shower, ponder Orochimaru/Jiraiya fanfic. (Goddamn it, this is why I need soap crayons! So I can WRITE in the shower! And maybe illustrate! LOL...I can't think that Jinya'd appreciate that...) That leads me, logically, into thinking about what I will name my (eventual) pet snake, since Jinya's bringing me my aquarium from her mom's place tonight. Get out of the shower and start adding mass quantities of anti-frizz gel, leave-in conditioner, and shine spitz to my hair.

Settle on Fluffy. I should totally name my snake Fluffy.
(We'll leave this one up in the air for a while; I want the name to suit the personality of the critter.)

Sort through the bag of clothing Jinya's getting rid of to see if I want any of it. I do. I want like, all of it, even though there's no room in my closet. Will work on that later.

Write this and drink more coffee. Field a phone call from Kris, who's wondering what rats she should breed next. Field another from Jinya; Target's cat boxes are more than the coupon, which means they'd have to pay for them (a whopping 2$); could I check Wal*mart's website and see if they were cheaper there?

Wal*Mart's search engine can suck my balls. Jesus.

Realize that I really need to get dressed soonish.



Wasn't this interesting?
Did it answer all your questions about my life? My wild, crazy life? Rock on.
Leave me fan-mail; I love it.

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*
Wendy: HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU KNOW THAT?!! WHAT THE HELL!!! Jesus Christ! WHERE DID YOU EVEN HEAR THAT WORD BEFORE?! HUH!? HUH?!


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.