Once I had a halo/But it caught on fire

So the meeting went well, my dad looked him squarely in the eye and smiled and told him he was welcome back any time, which was surprising because my parents (especially my dad) have never been especially fond of anyone I've brought home. It was very nice, and completely uneventful.
N. is talking to me again, though I get the feeling he's doing so more out of a sense of obligation than anything else. Oh, well. People do what they feel they must, right? Don't get me wrong, I'd love to be friends again, I'm just still a bit bitter about the whole thing. At least I'm not planning any sort of nasty vengeance, which did, admittedly, cross my mind.
Oh! Bit of a new development in my apparently not-quite-dead Soap Opera. J. (Andrew's brother, as you may recall--but then, you may not because things did get rather convoluted there for awhile) is currently blaming me for "ruining his chances" with other women at work. Well, honey, I hate to tell you this, but there are very few single women there of eligible age (one, actually), and she turned him down. For which, like I said, he blames me. She was off work during the whole drama, and when she came back I didn't tell her anything about what was going on, because she had been gone because her dad had died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. Which is when J. got the bright idea to chase after her. What respect I had for him is gone, because what kind of self-respecting, decent human being would actively pursue someone whose father just died?! And before you ask, no, he wasn't after her before he died. Only after. She turned him down, without any influence from me--I didn't learn about it until later; much later. So apparently not only am I destroying Rehab Guy's life by refusing to be his freaking saviour, I'm ruining J's life too. At this rate, I'll achieve my goal of becoming Bitch Queen of the Universe in no time flat.
On the bright side of things (wow, it took me a good four tries to spell "bright" correctly) I am no longer vomiting all over the place. My doctor checked me over, said I'm perfectly healthy except for that and the weigh loss, and ordered a whole bunch of blood tests and a prescription to kill the nausea, and let me tell you, it works like a dream.
Also I finished The Book of Air and Shadows, and while I saw the ending coming, it was still thoroughly enjoyable and I would highly recommend it to anyone with a large vocabulary or the willingness to read with a dictionary next to you for emergencies. (In case you're wondering, yes, I did have to puzzle out a couple of the words, which thrilled me to the core) Now I'm moving on to The Rose Labyrinth, which I may or may not have told you about but I bought it purely because it comes in a box. Which is cool.
And now I'm off to wait for Michelle to call so I can tell her all about my convoluted life than you are privy to unless you ask directly, and even then unless you're one of four very special people you won't hear about it, unless I'm lying. Which I will, in fact, let you know right up front, just to save time and worry.

You refuse to see/I'm in agony

So the Invega (the latest med, the one with the nasty side effect) is out of my system. How can I tell? Well, not only is the side effect in question almost gone, but I'm back to running out of energy really quickly, having trouble sleeping and sleeping all the time (yes, simultaneously. Go figure). And the best part? The absolute most wonderful thing?

I'm throwing up again.

Yep. I'm back to being randomly sick whenever my godforsaken stomach decides to act up, which in the past few days has been rather often. I'm thinking it's so bad right now out of spite, because the Invega is an antiemetic (stops nausea and vomiting for those who don't ask for an OED every Christmas) so strong it kills morning sickness. So needless to say while I was on it I was fine, never an ill-feeling moment.

On a completely different note, Andrew is coming over for dinner tonight. Yeah, Christmas dinner. *gulp* I'm nervous as all hell and from what I've gleaned from talking to him earlier, he's nervous too. I'd beat my head against my desk, but I'd probably be sick from the rapid movement. GRAWR. This sucks big time. The nausea, I mean, not Andrew coming over. I'm excited about that, though yes, I'm nervous too.

Christmas (so far, at least) wasn't bad emotionally this year. I think because the economy sucks so bad right now that retailers didn't push Christmas quite as hard as they did last year (or at least that's how it seems to me). I didn't hear much holiday music on the radio, and there weren't a whole lot of decorations up. All of that, I'm relatively sure, helped me cope this time round. Combined with the fact that I slept through yesterday---almost literally the whole day, I was up for maybe 3 hours--it seems that I successfully avoided Christmas this year, hurrah hurrah.

I'm still losing weight. I'm calling my doctor tomorrow morning about it, because it's really really starting to scare me a lot. And maybe I can get the nausea fixed at the same time. *crosses fingers* Light candles for me, please. Or pray, or dance, or whatever you do.

*Gulp* Andrew's here.

Can this be/What you really wanted, baby?

So the weekend was wonderful; L. and H. are fantastic, sweet people. We ended up staying an extra day because there were four-foot snowdrifts across the roads and Andrew drives a little car, a Grand Prix that has trouble with 4 inches of snow, let alone 4 feet. I did have a little bit of a bad moment, on Sunday, when I realised I'd be missing work and be stuck in a house with people for longer than I thought, and then it hit me all at once that I hadn't had more than about 3 minutes to myself the whole time, and usually I need a couple of hours of "me time" each day. So the noise and whatnot became very overwhelming very quickly and so I bolted and hid in the guest room for a couple of hours; but after that I was fine.
So far so good with the Christmas garbage. I still need to wrap everything and make the cheesecake for Andrew's dad, but other than that I'm all set--go me, go me, I win.
And I need to call Michelle....I get the feeling she's going to kill me when she hears what I've been up to, but most likely in a good way. Does that make sense?

So I decided to steal this from Thellie because I haven't done one of these stupid things in a while

A Year in Review Meme

1.) Where did you ring in 2008?

At home because I had no friends.

2.) What was your status by Valentine's Day?

Dating an idiot

3.) Were you in school (anytime this year)?

I was going to go back until shit happened and I didn't.

4.) How did you earn your keep?

Got a job as a DSP.

5.) Did you have to go to the hospital?

Yes, several times. Lucky me..

6.) Did you have any encounters with the police?

I got pulled over for doing 45 or 50 in a school zone during school hours but the cop took one look at me, asked me where I was going and when I said to the hospital he offered to follow me there to make sure I arrived safely and that was all.

7.) Where did you go on vacation?

Nowhere unless you count that ill-advised trip to Missouri. And I'm going to Iowa tomorrow.

8.) What did you purchase that was over $500?

Nothing. I'm cheap like that.

9.) Did you know anybody who got married?
Not that I know of, but I'm not up on that kind of thing. For all I know everybody I went to college with is married now, but nobody tells me anything and therefore I said not that I know of.

10.) Did you know anybody who passed away?

No, but I know two people who are in the process.

11.) Have you run into anybody you graduated high school with?

That would be a fucking nightmare. Unless it was Steve, I love Steve.

12.) Did you move anywhere?

No, though I wish I had.

13.) What sporting events did you go to?

I haven't been to a "sporting event," as you put it, since Silent Night the year Ocean's Twelve came out. Whenever that was.

14.) What concerts/shows did you go to?

None, because Within Temptation was last September and therefore doesn't qualify.

15.) Are you registered to vote?

Yes.

16.) If so, did you do your patriotic duty on [last time you were supposed to vote]?

Yes.

17.) Where do you live now?

Podunk, MN

18.) Describe your birthday.

It sucked ass.

19.) What's the one thing you thought you would never do but did in 2008?

Live. Learn to love again. Sorry, that's two.

20.) What is one thing you regret from this year?

Nate.

21.) What do you want for Christmas?

To find a med that works, and for my current social situation to remain the same.

22.) Any new additions to your family?

Hell no.

23.) What was your best month?

Oh gosh. December, so far. I haven't had a good month, per se, in several years now. It's a nice change, I find.

24.) What from pop culture will you remember 2008 by?

I prefer not to think about pop culture, though the whole "OJ finally going to jail" thing is rather nice.

25.) How do you plan to ring in 2009?
With friends, for the first time in my life. Dead serious--I have never, ever spent New Year's with friends. I'm planning on changing that this year.

I, I am falling/If I let go I'm the only one to blame

So apparently I have "Whist Player" written all over me. I wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing, but then I actually learned how to play and enjoyed myself thoroughly. I also surprised myself thoroughly by kicking ass. Turns out I'm a reckless whist player, which is a bit surprising because at euchre and poker I'm rather conservative. I'm also not used to playing with a partner, seeing as how the only game I've ever played that required a partner was euchre and I haven't played that in...oh, gosh. Must be since freshman year of college, so that'd be six years now. I was reassured that I did just fine, however ("just fine" being a final score of 13 to 2, and since 13 is the point score you're aiming for...yeah. In five hands.); but I do feel that once I get the hang of it I'll get better at it. It did help that the other 3, Andrew, Jon (John?) and La Nette, are all rather competitive and I am too, which made it that much more fun. Jesse doesn't believe that I can even play the damn game, so I'm looking forward to schooling him a bit. Granted, with my luck I'll end up as his partner and be so freaking nervous about showing off my newly acquired whist-playing skillz (note the ghetto spelling there) that I'll end up biffing the whole mess royally.
I'm going down to Iowa tomorrow. Not that that in itself is a huge deal, but...Andrew's taking me to meet his best friend from high school, and said best friend's wife. I'm....really, really nervous. I mean, yeah, sure, I met R. for about 20 or 30 minutes the other night and it went fine, I think I hope I pray, but still...a whole weekend with people I don't know. Granted, Andrew will be there and considering that he got me through over four hours of being surrounded by lots of strangers (I think the final count was somewhere over 400) who all stared at me a bit, or if they didn't it felt like it, and I didn't panic even once. I gave myself a headache because of the stress and tension I put myself through, stupid me, but still, I'm rather proud of myself. I'm still working on the whole strangers thing, but I'm getting there. Granted, if Andrew hadn't been there I would have taken one look and bolted out the door, cancer benefit or no cancer benefit. (Yeah, I volunteered to help with a benefit breakfast for a woman with stage 3 colon cancer.)
On the book side, I've got a bit to fill you in on. I recently purchased a book called Rose Labyrinth by somebody whose name I cannot currently remember and I'm too lazy to get up and look at the book sitting in a bag 3 feet behind me. It's rather intriguing-looking, because it comes in a box that is held shut by a rubber-bandy type thing, rather along the lines of the Moleskine line of journals and notebooks. Plus it comes with hard copies of the "mysterious letters" the main character finds at one point in the book, which is even niftier. And yes, it's a Quest novel, but cut me some slack--I like Quest novels. The Eight was absolutely brilliant, for example. *makes face*
Moving on to more books. I received for my birthday this wonderful little book (yes, it's little, I read it in about 30 minutes) called 1001 Things You Didn't Know You Wanted to Know. The only qualm I have with it is that I knew about half the stuff in there already. But the introduction has this marvelous little line, that goes something like this: "We were required to make a distinction between four things: stuff you wanted to know and knew you wanted to know, things that you didn't know but knew you didn't know and didn't want to know, things you didn't know but didn't know you didn't know and wouldn't want to know if you did, and, most elusive of all, things you didn't know you even wanted to know but would soon discover that you wanted to." I found that section alone worth the purchase price of the book. And since I paid nothing for it, technically, I win either way.
I also finished the fourth book in the Sevenwaters Trilogy, which will now have to be relabeled a tetralogy or just a series; it was dark, along the lines of the third book, but it was quite good and it got back more into the whole mythological world of ancient Ireland. And I just started a book called The Book of Air and Shadows, which seems to be another Quest novel, but the title alone intrigued me and it came up as a suggested read after I read a couple of reviews on Amazon (or maybe B&N.com) for Interred With Their Bones, which I bought solely for the title and absolutely loved.
Also, the fourth and final book in one of my favourite series ever is being published in I think it's January, I can't remember the exact date except that it's within the next few months and I'm terribly excited about it. It's called The Last Watch and I'm so terribly excited. Now if only George R R Martin would get his act together and finish Dancing With Dragons I'd almost be happy. Oh, and Kim Harrison has a new one coming out in February.
Good heavens I'm such a book nerd. But cut me some slack, people; I haven't gone off about books for awhile now and...yeah. Just think of it as an excess of spleen that had to be vented before it ruptured something internally.
Wish me luck for this weekend. Light candles or pray or whatever that I don't freak out and ask to be taken home early, because I know this means a lot to Andrew and I really don't want to screw it up. Not any of it.

I won't be held down/By who I used to be

Work has been stressful, very much so lately for a variety of reasons that I'd rather not get into, but on the amusing side is that the Material Girl (the client who eats non-edibles) ate her mattress pad.
No, I am not kidding. What's left is so little that there's no way to fix it. They put it on there originally to keep her from licking her mattress and shredding her tongue, but...yeah, that kinda failed. So now we just let her lick the mattress. I do worry a bit, though, because apparently at her last residence she ate holes in two of her mattresses so I'm wondering if it's just a matter of time before she eats this one, too.
The Soap Opera that my life had become has mostly come to an end, with the occasional flare-up but for the most part it's done. A. and I talked things over and we decided (mostly I decided and he supported me) that if Z. and J. are the kind of people J. wants me to spend time with, I should probably not trust J.'s recommendations for friends. So A. wants to introduce me to all of his friends, and I actually got invited to a little surprise party for one of them because they all wanted to meet me (Lord only knows what he's been saying) but I had to pull out because it was going to be in the middle of the afternoon and I was absolutely exhausted from work. So I feel bad but there will be another chance and besides, this way I did get to sleep a little.
As a closer, ask me about the bizarre (VERY bizarre) new side effect I'm currently experiencing. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll go "what the fuck is wrong with her?"

I'm so addicted to/All the things you do

So today was like the eight millionth day in a row that I've spent with Andrew. And by "eight millionth day in a row" I mean 3 or 4 days a week for 6 hours at a time, minimum. I know I've always said that you can't find happiness in others, you have to find it in yourself, but...I think I was wrong. *glee*
If you want details, ask me for them.

And there's nothing wrong with me/This is how I'm supposed to be

More ridiculousness. Ridiculosity? I need to get all three of these guys together so I can bitch them out simultaneously; three for the price of one. There was, apparently, a bit of a fistfight last night about the whole deal and all I can think is, holy hell, people, we're not in high school anymore. I'm not, anyway, and I'm younger than these guys. On the bright side, though, I did manage to convince two of them that all I want is friendship, now if I can only convince Z. I'm set. I think he'll be the hard case, as he's already convinced that A. "sabotaged his relationship" with me. I can't help but wonder, what relationship? Was there something going on that I was completely unaware of? On the bright side, Winter's Soap Opera (as I have taken to calling it) is providing hours of amusement for some of my coworkers; M., B., and N. in particular. Since I'm working tonight I'll have to update them further. *shakes head* What have I done to deserve this near-hell? All I wanted was friends, not a near-twice divorcee, a recent release from rehab, and a player coming after me. Either this will blow over into oblivion very soon, or things will continue to spiral out of my control into some sort of fabulous display of male immaturity. I'd really like this to end quietly and quickly, but I have to admit, the sadist in me kind of wants to watch the three of them fight it out in a sort of Battle Royale. Except...the one I like best *snicker*, (meaning the only one who listened to me from the start about not wanting anything but friendship) would probably get decimated first.
It would still be rather amusing. I could probably sell tickets and popcorn and make a tidy sum out of it.

In my darkest hour, I could not forsee/That the tide could turn so fast to this degree

My life has turned into a soap opera. It's ridiculous. I've got 3 different guys fighting--literally fighting, one of them pulled a gun--over who "gets to be with me." Which is patently absurd, because I don't want any of them. But none of them will hear me. I don't want to be pulled into the middle of a feud that seemed to be going on long before they ever met me; I feel like the latest excuse. Actually, I feel like the last piece of meat thrown before a pack of starving dogs, and guess what, people? I AM NOT A PIECE OF MEAT. I just lost my boyfriend and I really, really don't want this right now.
If you want the details, let me know. It's seriously straight out of a daytime soap; if things continue at the rate they've been going, it'll turn into the Jerry Springer Show by the end of the week.

Wake me up inside/Call my name and save me from the dark

Things are getting weirder and slightly complicated. On the bright side, the weirdness has effectively destroyed my desire for someone else to hurt. It's just...weird. I've talked to several people about it, though, and their advice is all the same--embrace the weirdness, because I deserve something good in my life.
Not sure I believe them about the last part there, but...yeah.
I found out this morning that it turns out I was right about the lung cancer. I feel horrible, being right. It's...frustrating. I don't even have her phone number to call her to let her know I'm praying for her. Oh, yeah, there's a weird one--me, praying again. *shrugs* Things change. I like this woman, she's strong and kind and truly cares about people, and now she could very well be dying.
On the bright side, my soap-opera life has, apparently, convinced several people that I work with that I'm not some sort of uptight bitch, and I've received several offers to "hang out" in the past two days. Which is really cool, actually, because it just may mean that I'm finally making friends here. It's only been a year, so this could be rushing it...(note the heavy sarcasm there)
I've been reading up on headache cures, or at least temporary fixes, and I found a couple that sound possible. If my headaches don't completely go away by Christmas, I'll see what I can do about putting them into practice.

I'll come into your world/See through your eyes

So the shindig thing went over far better than I was expecting, mostly because only two people showed up (apart from J. and J.) instead of like six. I can handle two strangers; more is pushing it. I was planning on staying for two hours; I ended up staying for ten and--here's the kicker--I didn't want to leave. How weird is that?
I have tentative plans for Monday afternoon and early evening.
There were awkward moments, sure; but with me, at least, there are always awkward moments. I'm not sure if that's normal for most people, since I'm fully aware that I'm not normal, but there you go.

And since I got my hair cut, things have been...different. I've only had it cut since Monday and I've already been hit on by four different people. Me, who never gets hit on. Ever. Not even by people that I'm dating. It's a strange, strange experience.
Anyway, if you want the details of the party, feel free to ask me about them, but I'm not going to post them here. Things got too interesting on a few counts for me to be willing to post them here. Besides, it would take about an hour of typing, and I do about 65 or 70 words a minute...yeah. Long story.

I gave my all/You weren't there

So tonight I'm going out with a group of people...I know. A shocker, right? Me, socializing with multiple people at once...and only actually knowing one of them beforehand. I'm just hoping I don't a) have a panic attack (entirely possible) or b) make a total fool of myself. Odds are in my favor, because I figure things can only suck for so long without a break, right? If I'm lucky, it at least won't be horrible.
Here's the story. Some people at work, from the other building, found out it was my birthday last week and decided to have me come over as a sort of celebration. But they had to reschedule because their kids got sick, so it's tonight instead. And they've changed it from a celebration (thank God) to more of a "let's introduce Winter to more people, because she seems lonely." I'm a bit nervous, because I don't do well with groups, or strangers, or with people who other people think I would be good with...the last time someone tried to set me up with someone else I ended up getting stalked for a couple of months and it creeped me out. And yes, there's a guy who's going to be there who my coworker has wanted to set me up with since March, except...his plans went bust when his friend ended up in rehab. So this will be interesting.
This will also be the very first party I've ever been to where alcohol will be available. And the firsts just keep coming, don't they?
Sorry about the lack of pictures, but the cable that enables picture uploads to the computer has gone on walkabout and until it's found, there won't be any photos. It's been missing for a month now, so heaven only knows when it'll show up again.
Wanna hear something funny? Or read, I suppose.... Anyway, anybody who reads this blog at all knows I'm (currently uncontrolled) bipolar and dealing with a load of crap pretty much 24/7, and have been for the past twelve years now. I realised the other day that this whole shitpile with Nate hasn't actually affected my depression. Which is a good sign, actually--it means I'm still retaining my independence and not basing my continued survival on another person. That's been one of my fears for a very long time, that I'd grow so attached to someone that my literal life would depend on their continued presence in my life. Which would be bad, because with I think two exceptions, everyone who has ever meant anything at all to me has left.
Which brings me to my final topic, kind of. I'm normally a private person, and this blog does give me some anonymity because I have no idea if anyone actually reads this or not anymore (I disabled the hit counter thingy out of paranoia), and I don't know who the actual readers are. Which makes me more comfortable spilling my guts. I collect journals, but I rarely write anything in them, because they provide tangible proof of whatever I wrote about...blogs can just be deleted, but even if you throw out a journal it can still be read. And the people reading your journal would most likely be people that you know, and that's just...awkward.
And until recently I only ever wrote about general things and myself, as opposed to friendships and relationships. I thought they were too personal, and I didn't want people knowing all about them. It's why I so rarely post status updates and whatnot on social networking sites--too personal. I'll probably go back to not writing about relationships etc, because I don't want to have to go back and see them. I don't like records of my failures in life; I have enough of them written into my skin already and I don't need more reminders. It's easier to move on, to heal, and maybe, if I'm lucky, even to forget if there isn't a trail of some kind to bring memories back.

Wish someone would cure this pain/It's funny when you think it's gonna work out

Things continue to suck. I did, however, talk to Roy today and we commiserated on our mutual misery, and he gave me some coping tips that I just may put into practice--i.e. destroy my liver. Which I can do, actually, now that I'm off the Lyrica. It's hugely tempting, especially since after tomorrow morning I don't work again until late Thursday night. Which gives me plenty of time to become oblivious and sick and hungover and better.
Tempting. Really tempting. Unfortunately I doubt I'll lose enough self-control to do anything even remotely close to drinking myself into a stupor. Since it happened I haven't let myself cry or even come close to crying, since crying doesn't actually achieve anything. Here, now, writing about it is almost the only time I let myself feel hurt at all. The rest of the time I just...I guess the simplest way to describe it is that I just ignore it. I've shuffled it off into the same realm as the depression, which I cope with by ignoring it. Mostly. Every so often it gets completely overwhelming, but not too often, not really. And I know that this particular pain will disappear, eventually.
I'm just so tired of being alone.
I went and saw Quantum of Solace today; it was good. Very Bond--stylish and stylized and sweeping. It was darker than the other Bond movies I've seen, though, and it skimmed over parts that I would have loved to see in more detail, or at least get a bit more exposition. I suppose when the DVD comes out there'll be two or three hours worth of deleted scenes and bonus features which will explain all the bits that were obviously cut out of it for either content rating or length; either that or said deleted scenes will serve only to confuse the issue even more.
Anyway I've been up since 4 am, so even though it's only a bit past eight I think I'll go to bed now. It's easier when I'm asleep, except when I dream. I'm afraid of my dreams now.

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing/With a broken heart that's still beating

Sorry about the bitchfest last night. Well, no, I'm not. It's how I felt and how I feel and how I've felt for years now (eight years now, actually. Sad, isn't it? I'm only twenty-four) and I very strongly doubt that that will ever change.
I think my co-worker has lung cancer, I don't know if I posted this before or not. She's out on indefinite leave and the office staff isn't allowed to share with us what's wrong, but she's been coughing horribly for two months now and the x-ray they took came back bad so they took a CT scan and she hasn't been back since. I'm worried about her; she's a genuinely kind person who sees me, not just another pair of hands. I'll miss her. I don't think she'll die from it, if that's even what she's got, but my mom has recently pointed out my amazing (or maybe it's horrible) track record of awful predictions that come true. I've only been wrong once in the past 6 years, and that was only a matter of timing--I was wrong then, but ten days later everything changed and I became right. But there's a first time for everything, especially (I hope) for me to be seriously wrong about something terrible happening to somebody.
I have to go in to work at five tomorrow instead of six. That's five in the morning. The woman in question who's sick, B., is the five-am-person and because she's sick, they need to find someone who can cover it. The trick here is that no one is willing to come in at five, especially not me, so what they're doing is having the night attendants get her people up (who, yes, need to be woken at five so they get out the door in time). Which is fine, except that I'm not trained with those particular people and they're not an apartment I can learn on the fly; I have to go in to specifically be trained with them. Plus one of the people who lives in that apartment is an absolutely horrible person; she is the living personification of the word "bitch," and no, I'm not exaggerating. At least five people have quit in the past four years solely because of her. This is going to suck big time, but at least I'll only have to do it I think twice in a two-week period. Which is still way too much, but...I'll take what I can get.
I decided to do something for myself today, in an admittedly feeble attempt to feel better. So I did the girly thing and got my hair done--cut and dyed. It's actually a little shorter than I had it when I was in college, and the dye job was fantastic. The whole thing looks great, and I absolutely love it; I'm going to see if I can post a picture of it tomorrow.
Sadly, however, it didn't actually help anything, except it did fill me with a sense of relief of having my hair back the way I like it, i.e. short.

And I know you're sorry. But sorry doesn't fix the puppy's broken legs.

Hide in yourself/Crawl in yourself/You'll have your time

Who the fuck was I ever kidding? Myself, mostly. I thought that I could be loved, cared for, cherished, and all the rest of that bullshit. But I guess not. The reason? "I just can't tell if I love you or not."
Wow. What a fucking blow. Okay, granted, I've seen this coming for awhile now...ever since I came back from Missouri, actually. Makes me wonder if I hadn't gone down there if things would be different. Probably not, but I have this horrible track record of seeing people and then them not wanting anything to do with me after that. Ever.
He tried to make it easier, but it's never easy. Not when you love someone and they don't love you. It hurts so much, you know? I mean, I've been numb since tenth grade, emotionally. I shut down completely and quit feeling anything at all, and only in the past year or so have I really been feeling anything at all. I've forgotten how much life hurts, and I wish I could go back and shut it all off again.
I'm bleeding again. Sorry, Michelle.
Here I was, thinking that I finally had something good in my life, something postive, aaaaand....no. Why should there be anything good in my life? I was given a death sentence this summer and I thought that maybe here was something that would help ease the initial shock or...something. But no. Of course not. Everything good I touch turns to ash and blows away in the wind, because I deserve nothing good. I am the world's receptacle for crap and garbage and nothing I can do or hope or wish for or pray for or ANYTHING will ever change that. Why should I expect things to get better? Nothing ever changes, history repeats itself.
I am doomed to failure, and I need to quit fooling myself into thinking things will change because they fucking won't. Story of my life.
I'm going to go keep crying now.

Change, again/Cannot be considered

So my birthday is over, thank God. I thought I'd experiment this year, and actually tell people when it was, to see if anything would change. It didn't--things once again sucked all the way round. I spent most of the day literally hiding in bed, praying for the day to end. Friday was a little better.
My sister and I went to see Twilight, and I'm kind of wishing I hadn't. It stuck to the book fairly well, but it's a low-budget movie and you can tell. Plus there are some moments of extreme melodrama that could have been done better--they're right at the climax, so they're supposed to be very serious and whatnot, and I couldn't stop laughing. I'm still planning on seeing Quantum of Solace, though, because that is very clearly not a low-budget production and it's James Bond, so you know what you're getting into.
I finally picked up Wrath of the Lich King, too, and so far it's not bad. I switched servers, though, and it's a little weird not knowing many people. At least I don't have creepy sixteen year olds following me around like I used to--it's nice not having everyone know I'm an actual gamer chick.
I picked up some books today. My dad took me to 'Kato for lunch (I think he and my mom felt bad about telling me no for the whole birthday dinner thing) and the restaurant was right near the bookstore. And I got a gift card for said bookstore for my birthday, so...yeah. I'm a little disappointed, though, that I didn't get what I asked for, which was help--not everything, just a little help--with my med bills this time round. Story of my life, I guess.
At least I have a year of peace before I have to deal with the crap again.

Some days I'm a super bitch, up to my old tricks/But it won't last forever

So yesterday...was it yesterday? The whole overnight thing makes my days run together. Yes, it was yesterday. I get this phone call and I have no idea who it is, but it sounds like my ex-boyfriend *grumbles* who is not welcome to call me. Ever. So I'm unbearably rude and lying about my work schedule to try to get this person who I think is a total asshole off the phone when I finally realise that wait, this doesn't quite sound like him. So, being the brilliant person that I am, I got round to asking who it was. Turns out, it's one of my old co-workers from the other building at work. He was the only person over there to actually take an interest in me as a human being as opposed to, 'hey, great, it's another able body' so I apologised and whatnot. Small talk proceeded for a few minutes, and then he got down to what he was calling about. The conversation went something like this.
J: So, I don't know if you're seeing anyone, but we kind of had this rapport (a/n: yes, he really did use the word "rapport") while you were in B Building, so I was... (at this point I cut him off)
Me: Yes, I am seeing someone, but it's a little complicated.
J: Complicated how?
Me: He lives in Missouri.
J: Oh. Are you attached to him?
Me: Very.
J: This isn't going very well for me.
Then he hung up.
Wanna know the creepy part? He's married. Granted, his wife left him about two months ago to move in with a convicted child molester (and took their kid with her), but still...married men have no business asking out anybody who isn't their spouse, period.

Work is currently hell. Three people didn't show up this morning, and when you only have seven people scheduled, losing three is major. One girl is probably going to get fired *crosses fingers* because she keeps doing the no-call/no-show thing. Which is fine, because she's more of a hindrance than a help, but it's bad because we're soooo incredibly short staffed right now it's not even close to being funny.

I got back into contact with D. and K., who are the closest people to what I could ostensibly call friends in this town. We have very tentative plans for hanging out on Saturday, which will be cool if I actually go. I haven't spent time with them since I think April, so it's kind of overdue. They both work part-time where I work, but. D just quit after seven or eight years there. I don't blame him; if I could find a better job I'd take it, but in this economy I'm not going to risk anything unless it's for-sure, you know?

I asked my parents if they could take me out to dinner for my birthday, and they said...no. They decided that because my brother probably wouldn't agree to go, we wouldn't go. Keep in mind, they never asked him, and never asked me if I cared if he went. (I don't, if you care. I'd actually rather he didn't go because he'd sit and complain the whole time. How do I know this? Because it's what he's done for the past 5 years) So I'm a little bit peeved, but to be honest, I really shouldn't be surprised. Speaking of my parents...more reneging on their part, but I don't want to get into it because it'll make me cry and I've cried enough today already.

I'll let you blame it on me/Set yourself free

Sorry it's been so long, but I've been working extra this week due to various unforseen circumstances, including a girl calling in sick because "someone was trying to kill her."
I shampooed the carpet at work; the downstairs and the front stairwell, anyway. Took me two hours on my hands and knees to do the downstairs rug, but when I was done it looked fantastic. The next night I went in and there were beets all over the rug. Beets. You know, purple root vegetable that leaves HORRIBLE STAINS on rugs. I freaking hate beets now.
I have lots more stories to tell, because not only was it a long week, but it's been eventful, but I'll probably write more about them tomorrow because stories don't exactly go anywhere.
Except for one. Last Wednesday was absolutely horrible, I spent most of the day either in tears or fighting not to cry--and all because I misunderstood something horribly. It was like something out of a nightmare and it was all in my head. I'm just so convinced that good things don't happen to me that when they do, I'm convinced they'll be taken away as soon as the powers that be realise their mistake in giving me something positive.
T minus two days and counting. Wish me luck.

If you got bad news/You wanna kick the blues

Not actually in a bad mood, despite the ever-nearing Doomsday. But I've decided to buy myself an early birthday present this year, as actually more of a "congratulations on surviving 24 years (almost)" gift rather than a "happy birthday to me" deal.
On the bright side, I figured out the whole stupid weight-loss deal. Topamax makes people lose weight sometimes. And we all know how I am with side effects, don't we? Luckily, I'm done with the stuff on the 21st, so things should stop then.
On another bright side, I want to tell you a bit about a teacher I had way back in the day. She was cool; very cool, actually. She's the one who first got me into singing, and while I had always loved to read, she's the one who really encouraged it. I haven't seen her since I was twelve, and she's always been my favourite teacher. I mean, Ms. Kathie and Dr. Mook were pretty awesome, but this particular teacher was my favourite. Anyway, every few years I'd try to track her down, and never with any success...and then yesterday I get a friend request from her on Facebook. It's odd, because I never really thought to check fb to see if she was on it; though considering the sheer quantity of people who use it I probably should have. Anyway, now that the opportunity to talk to her is there...I'm not sure what to say. I think I'll just chalk it up to performance anxiety and leave it at that.

Remember who you are, what you stand for/There will always be a way

So yesterday morning I woke up early (weird, I know) and I look outside and there's snow on the ground. Not a dusting of snow, but enough snow to cover all the grass. I'm completely thrilled by this, so what do I do? I pound on my parent's door--at 6 am--to let them know that it snowed. Totally thrilled here. Except that it's not been cold enough for it to completely stay, so even though it snowed a good six more inches yesterday, it mostly melted overnight. It's almost all gone today, which makes me very sad. But I did enjoy my first proper snow of the season. Which brings me to a question that I would like all of you (at least, those of you interested) to answer: are there any non-Christmas songs related to winter, or snow? Winter has always been my favourite time of year (probably because I've had about 14 of them now instead of 24) but I've not been able to find any songs that bring up the beauty of it that don't relate to the disgusting commerciality that has become Christmas. Has anyone else noticed that Thanksgiving has completely disappeared? I mean, Halloween decorations were up in stores next to the Christmas trees, and Thanksgiving, which is really the only historically American holiday that isn't associated with mattress sales go passed over. New holiday, everyone: Hallowistmas! Decorate your tree with skeletons and orange lights, and top it with a jack-o-lantern.
On to some worrisome news, at least for me. I'm still losing weight, kind of, and I'm freaking out about it. Yesterday I put my jeans on, realised they were my sisters, and then promptly went "oh shit" because they were too big for me. My sister is a stick and though I've only got about an inch and a half on her, I've also got thirty pounds on her. I'm not entirely sure how this is possible. So I'm eating more junk and drinking more pop and hoping against hope that this whole thing will go away because soon my cheekbones are going to start sticking out and I don't want to be any thinner than I already am.
Next weekend I think I'm going clean the carpets at work. I have no idea how that will go, because I don't know how to use the carpet cleaner. Well, folks, it'll be an experiment for all of us and at least if I flood the building it will have all weekend to dry out.
Less than one week until Wrath of the Lich King comes out; I'm rather terribly excited about it even though I've staunchly refused looking at most of the information about it simply because I don't want to get my hopes up to only have them dashed by my expectations being either too high or merely way off base. Sadly, I fear it's too late for Quantum of Solace; every time I see a trailer for it I want to go "squee" because (shoot me if you like) I love Daniel Craig as James Bond. I've seen most of the others, except that I got bored halfway through Thunderball and never saw the ones with George Lazenby (who shouldn't count because he only did one) or Timothy Dalton. But we'll see...

Last thing I remember, I was/Running for the door

I'm glad the elections are over. Abraham Lincoln once compared them to big boils--painful and unsightly. Granted, he then went on to say how things go on to be so much better when they're over, blah blah blah, but the first part definitely made me smile. He apparently didn't even vote for himself--he ripped his name off the ballot before he cast it. I kind of wish the candidates would go back to campaigning the way they did in Lincoln's day--by not campaigning. They just sat around and hoped their past track record would sit well with voters, and waited. Everyone who campaigned lost. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Sadly, it's the other way around nowadays.
At work, S. has a rash. A nasty one, that's spread through contact. I got really paranoid when I was working with him so I donned one of those protective gowns that they use in hospitals--just watch. I'll end up with the rash anyway. I lucked out this morning, though, because I wasn't scheduled in his apartment; I was, instead, scheduled elsewhere. I thought, hey, great, a break from apartment one! Yay! Or not so great, because the guy I was working with was in a horrible mood and basically beat the shit out of me. I doubt I'll have bruises, because I don't bruise easily anymore, but I'm a little sore. The guy in question is over six feet tall and usually moves slowly, but when he's angry (like this morning) moves really fast. I had to have someone else come in to help me get him dressed, and by "help me" I mean hold him down. It wasn't my idea of a good time.
D-Day is only a couple of weeks away. Can I speed up time to make it two weeks ago?

Shot through the heart/And you're to blame

So I'm not entirely sure what to talk about now, seeing as how I don't (currently) have my headache to complain about. God, it's wonderful to be able to say that.
They changed my work schedule on me yesterday, so I got a call at 10:15 asking me why I wasn't at work, and I said I wasn't scheduled until 11. They said no, I'm scheduled at 10, so I griped and moaned about how nobody asked me before they changed my schedule, but hang on, I'll be in in fifteen minutes (aren't I a nice person?).
I'm currently re-reading this book called 'The Eight' and I absolutely love it. I picked it up a couple of years ago and I think this is my fifth time through it. The sequel was currently published which was a little disappointing because the author had been quoted as saying that she was never going to write a sequel to it. Well, in any case, the sequel is quite good--not as good as the original (but then, what sequel is?), but definitely better than some books I've read, too.
My birthday is coming up, and I'm not particularly keen on it. Granted, I've never been particularly keen on my birthday, so it's not like this is something new and unusual that will make people sit up and go, "wait, what?" Unless, of course, they're not entirely familiar with me, in which case it probably will. This year I believe I shall ask my parents to help me pay for my CT scan. My dad will be livid, of course, but I'd much rather the help than something impractical like clothing or shoes or some such.
I suppose I really ought to go do something else now.

I won't give in/I won't give up

So I have some wonderful gnus, to quote a friend of mine...my Headache is finally, it seems, on the mend. The past two days it has been improving to the point where it's generally at a dull roar instead of a constant stabbing pain, and what's more, there have even been bits where it hasn't hurt at all.
So I'm a little bit excited, and I probably shouldn't even be talking about it because now I've probably jinxed it. And now I have to go get ready for work (boo) but since I've spent the past few days sleeping off the last of the IV's I wanted to post something so you weren't panicking or just wondering about how I've been.

It's six a.m; I'm so tired/The alarm sounds, a new day begins

I really don't want to go on about how work went this morning, except that I am proud to say that for perhaps the first time in my life, I did not cave in to authority when it was wrong, and I stood my ground and explained my standpoint--namely, that I called in sick because I was in too much pain to walk straight. I don't think she believed me, but the letter from my doctor that had been faxed over earlier helped, I think.
I spent all day yesterday hiding in bed, because two days away from the IV's hurt too much. Which is a bad sign. I'm actually in craploads of pain now, too--I haven't had my happy baggie of meds yet (not for another half hour, grawr), but I made myself go to work because I need the money to pay off the copay for the CT scan I had to have to prove it wasn't a brain tumor and to pay off the happy baggies of meds because my parents, though they "don't begrude me this" are refusing to help pay for it (so I'm wondering where the "begrudging" bit came from), for reasons that will only start another rant. I'm grateful that I've been at REM long enough now that I can do everything there by rote, otherwise I'd have been screwed. Anyway, I didn't go back to bed to hide again because if I had I know I would have ignored that hateful alarm clock and problems would have arisen. Or should I say Problems? Anyway, it's off to the doctor for me now. Yay for the happy baggie, though I will end up looking like a heroin junkie by the end of the week, with my arms covered in needle marks and bruises.

When the stars threw down their spears/Shattered heaven with their tears

It's supposed to snow tomorrow. I'm very excited about it. Maybe it will snow on my birthday, too, which would be a wonderful present *hint hint* (though I'm not sure who I'm hinting at, to be honest). I love snow. It's white and it's cold and it's fluffy and it's pretty. It makes everything better, somehow. Granted, it's also wet and can get brown and slushy, but I'm far enough north where it doesn't get slushy till March. I can live with that.
Unfortunately the snow is not supposed to stick, given that it's only supposed to be forty degrees out tomorrow. I don't mind too much, although a good proper snow would be nice.
My head doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would, though I've been popping Tylenol left and right whenever I woke up today....although, granted, I woke up at eight this morning, took two Tylenol, ate a bowl of cereal, and went back to bed, thinking I'd get up around noon...next time I roll over and look at the clock, it says seven-oh-eight, and I think, "that can't be right, it must be broken." Then I realise: pee-em, you idiot. I slept all day.
Which is huge, because until this past week with the IV's I haven't been sleeping much without taking lots of sleeping pills. So this is kind of nice, being able to catch up on my sleep and whatnot. And there's always the reassuring knowledge that my doctor reminded me that it was perfectly okay for me to head on over to the emergency room if I needed to. Ugh. More needles. When I was younger the mere sight of a needle gave me screaming fits, and now here I am looking forward to my daily (well, not currently daily, but you know what I mean) sticking with an inch-long needle. How things change as we age, what?
Aren't you proud of me? A reasonably lengthy entry, and no ranting today. (Granted, I'm still tired--I'm going back to bed now--but still, be proud. BE PROUD, DAMMIT!)

This temple will cave in/There's nothing here worth saving

Just a couple of quick thoughts: Everything smells musty, which is, I think, a side effect of the pain. Pain does funny things to a person.
Second thought, which may or may not be a bit more controversial than me thinking everything smells musty: we are who other people make us. I don't mean after we become adults, though even then to an extent we are altered by those around us; I mean that our very personalities, our beings, who we are is shaped by those around us.

Falling and crawling/A fight to stand up

More IV's today. And more tomorrow. None the day after, though, because it's Saturday and the doctor's office is closed. Which means by the time Monday rolls around I'll be in screaming agony, unless I'm very, very lucky. Which is unlikely because we all know how lucky I am. Well, no, that's a lie, because I got very lucky when I found Nate.
My psychiatrist is, I think, growing frustrated with me, because my mood is not improving. (not including this week from hell) It's been a steady 2 out of 10, with one being 'I'm going to shoot myself" and ten being "I'm fine", since I got out of hospital back in June. Not better, not worse, which in some ways is good--means the mood stabilizers are at least slightly doing their jobs--but at the same time it means nothing if I feel this crummy all the freaking time. The only time I felt remotely better was when I was with Nate, but...I think that was, a great deal of it anyway, the novelty of it, and if I had him around me all the time I would slide back down to a two. She attempted to comfort me with a story about how the other day one of her clients finally found the right medication--after forty years. I can't wait another thirty years like this. It's hard enough to make it through a freaking day.
Sorry, I don't mean for this thing to turn into a "boo-hoo, pity me, I'm so sick and miserable" because, for the most part, I'm either coping or learning to cope. Right now, I'm learning to cope. I think I bitch here because I have no one else to bitch to.
Thanks for listening.

I am weak/But believe me when I softly speak

Relapse late last night, worse than ever. Guess I just spoke too soon. I'm exhausted...I never thought pain was physically draining. I'll write more tomorrow, if I'm feeling better.

And the promises/They may or may not have made

No brain tumor. I was scared, yesterday. I have to admit. Absolutely terrified...I mean, come on. Your doctor may only be following protocol but still--there's a chance you could have a freaking brain tumor and that's a REALLY BIG DEAL. A really scary big deal. But I'm okay now.
I'm also better now. I went back to the doctor's this morning after work--which was awful, by the way. They pulled people from elsewhere to help me, even though therewere only two clients for me to get ready this morning. You know the sad part? I could barely do anything this morning. Even with help. I was so out of it...So my coworkers made an Executive Decision (because Office Staff has, of late, not been showing up on time) and sent me home a half-hour early and had one of the night attendants stay late. Anyway, I went back to the doctor who gave me an IV of something and....it worked. I mean, I still have a headache, but it's very mild--as in, I can just ignore it and I'm fine. I haven't felt this way in ages. I'd jump about with glee, but I'm afraid of bringing the headache back. So I'll just sit quietly and be happy.

If my words have forked no lightning/Never shall I sleep again

Just a quickie because I'm going to sleep for awhile. I came back from my (first ever!) CT scan just now...we'll see how things are either later today or tomorrow. My dad, after hearing how bad the Headache got (the vomiting, passing out, etc) while he was away made an Executive Decision and took me to the doctor, who quizzed me on various things, tested me on other things, injected me with something that was supposed to make the pain stop (it made the pain less, a little--down to almost an 8, which is non-vomit-inducing level [sorry for the graphic image]), but all it really did was make my hip hurt. My dad asked me why I seem(ed) to be revelling in my misery/illness/whatever, and I explained to him that it was either that or cry. Upon which I started crying. Which made my head hurt worse, which I didn't think possible.
And now I'm going to bed.

If I could be your angel/Protect you from the pain

This past week has been hard. Not just from the Headache (which made me throw up this morning), but...in some ways visiting Nate was a bad idea. It reminded me of how completely alone I am here. I have no friends here, none. It's odd, I mean...Ok. I'm a misanthrope. I don't like people. It's not that I dislike people in general, it's that I dislike most people specifically. The vast majority of people. But even I know that I need friends, or at least acquaintances, or something. Even if it's just once a month, once every two months, someone to spend even half an hour with in a social manner. Just having that option. And I don't even have that. I've got my parents, who resent me because they see me as a testament to failure (I'm not, and resent the implication, but whatever) and my siblings, who are (respectively) 18 and struggling with his own problems, and fifteen and therefore too young to be burdened with my problems. So guess what I do? When I really need to bitch, I hunt down my sister and burden her with my problems. I'd bang my head on my desk at this point, except my head is already killing me and I doubt I'd remain conscious and I have to be at work in forty-five minutes.
Which is a handy seque into work. I don't like my job. I'm not keen on some of my coworkers, and a couple of the clients really tick me off, but for the most part I'm ok with them. It's the management that really bugs me. They're looking out for the bottom line (read: money) instead of the best interests of the clients, and that infuriates me. I don't have enough time to rant about this, though, so on to other things.
I got my hands on Anti-Meridian a few days ago, which is the third and (very sadly) final album by Brave Saint Saturn. While Within Temptation remains my favourite band, BSS is definitely my second--has been for a very long time. You know how most bands take at least a year, usually more, to write an album? Their first, which is my favourite of the three (though the third is working its way up there) was written in three weeks...and it's got the only song that I've ever heard that's ever made me cry.
Anyway, in my very first blog, which was definitely more lighthearted than this one, I would occasionally post poems and song lyrics; and I think that I'll post the lyrics to one of the songs from Anti-Meridian. It's called These Frail Hands.

In this broken place where I was born
It seems there is no peace,
And the very soil that we walk upon
Is filled with tears that never cease,
And you can trace the scars of hopelessness
Like sweat upon the backs
Of all the outcast downtrodden,
Water slipped through cracks
Hold on,
Hold tight
And I am overwhelmed
With grievousness and suffering,
For those who lack the voice to speak
For those of us left uttering
Pain does not prevail,
Dear Lord,
Your love will never fail
And these frail hands,
They tremble as they pen for us their last
And these weak words,
Can never say what cannot be surpassed
When the concrete of the world
Becomes too cumbersome to lift,
And the cataracts of fear and doubt
Cloak truth beyond what we can sift
And darkness, darkness breeds its way,
When crippling anguish clouds our sight,
The ghosts of dusk can’t bear their teeth,
Set their claws to bring the night
Hold on,
Hold tight
Darkness can’t perceive
The light, the likeness
This has shield from,
And though its wings may shroud the skies,
The dark shall never overcome
Light of the world,
Your love
Has never failed
And these frail hands,
They tremble as they pen for us their last
And these weak words,
Can never say what cannot be surpassed
I need your love,
And most of all I want to feel your peace,
I need your love,
Let everything that you are not decrease,
And these frail hands,
They tremble as they pen for us their last
And these weak words,
Can never say what cannot be surpassed
I need your love,
And most of all I want to feel your peace,
I need your love,
Let everything that you are not decrease.

And that's all, for now.

And I am overwhelmed/With grievousness and suffering

Kinda hard to believe the title came from Reese Roper, but it did...you know, Roper of Five Iron Frenzy. I got into them in junior high and high school. They were fun without crossing the line into the offensively enthusiastic, and the musicianship was good. Plus, live, the stage presence was pretty good, too. But then in high school a friend gave me a song called Space Robot Five, and it sounded eerily like Roper's voice, so I checked around, and discovered Brave Saint Saturn, his little side project. It's basically the dark side of FIF--they deal with the dark, depressing side of life, issues like death, depression, war, and so on. Oddly enough, every time I listen to songs like 229 and Starling, I feel uplifted, even though there's not a whole lot in the songs themselves to encourage you. I guess it's just nice, no; beyond nice to know that you're not alone out there.
Which brings me to my second point. Apparently my dad's friend's wife, who I've known since I was four, is bipolar. She's bipolar one, and doesn't have any other issues, but still. I asked him for her address, because I need someone to talk to about this, because with each day that passes I feel more and more isolated, more and more alone, more and more scared of having to live every day with this. Nate and M. have helped me so much with the loneliness, but this is something deeper than they have been able to reach, and I'm hoping that she can, maybe, at the very least, point me in the right direction.
Wish me luck.

Never opened myself this way/Life is ours, we live it our way

I've reached a couple of conclusions; I need to get hold of M. on Monday or Tuesday.
I was very nearly ill when I got home this morning from the Headache. Someone at work asked me what was wrong, and I told her, and she asked if I had tried any nontraditional methods...I'm definitely leaning that way. There's a very highly regarded acupuncturist just down the street. When the 'rents get back I think I'll talk to them about trying it. I can barely stand up anymore, it hurts so bad. It's becoming ridiculous. My doctor asked me, when I went in to see him about it, if I had noticed any tingling in my hands or feet, and when I asked him why, he said it was because it could be a sign of something worse than a migraine. I've started paying more attention, and I've noticed tingling in my hands and feet, but I don't know if I'm just making them up out of paranoia, or if they're really happening, or if I'm making them happen out of fear, or what.
I showed some of my trip photos to my coworkers, and I'm not sure if I should be offended or amused that they all seemed surprised that he was cute. (They all said, "He's very attractive" or something similar in a surprised voice. Well, no, not all. The creepy guy said nothing. He just stalked off.) Oh, well. I happen to agree that Nate is very attractive, but then again, I'm also terribly biased in his favour. He could run over a puppy and it wouldn't dent things. Granted, this is me we're talking about and I'm not terribly sympathetic towards the puppies-and-kitties set.

I got back Sunday. Yes, yes, I know I promised I'd post when I got back, but I was tired and the Headache (which I almost successfully mostly ignored while with Nate) returned with a vengeance...I kinda sorta passed out for a little tiny bit on Wednesday morning while I was getting ready for work, so I didn't go to work. Don't panic, it was only for a couple of minutes--I checked the clock. It's the first time it happened, and I didn't get hurt or anything, so I don't think it's a big deal. I found out that the migraine meds, while reputed to be super-effective, take a freaking MONTH to start working, which is why I'm still in bleep-loads of pain. I'm slowly destroying my liver with the enormous quantities of Advil and Tylenol it's taking to maintain functionality, but...at least I'm still functioning. Right? Right?
Ok, on to my story of the trip. The vast majority of it is none of your business, because I don't want to post details of my relationship with Nate all over the Internets. But I will say this--it was wonderful. Every single part of it, even the part where the car broke down and we were stuck on the side of the road in eighty degree weather for forty-five minutes. God, I've gotten sappy. I will, however, to soothe your voyeuristic souls, post three pictures. Two are of Nate and I, and one is of a gift he gave me--something he bought me (apparently awhile ago) at a Ren fair.


This necklace is the kind of thing I'd look at and walk away from regretfully, thinking, "I love it, but I just couldn't possibly justify it..." I absolutely love it. I don't wear it to work, and it kills me not to, but...if a client grabbed it and it broke, I'd probably burst into tears and cry for quite a while. Keep in mind, though, that on the rare occasions that I do cry, it never lasts longer than 30 seconds. And even that's pushing it.

Next picture: Me and Nate. Or Nate and I. Whichever.



I'm grinning like an idiot, but what can I say? He makes me happy.

Last picture. Also me and Nate, or Nate and I.




So I know I said I was nervous about seeing him again for the first time in years, etc, etc. And I was. Terrified. But...when I saw him, actually saw him, waiting at the airport, it was like all of the fear flew out the window (and at airports they have very large windows). The only way to describe the change is...ok, have any of you read Sunshine? Lovely book, dark, about vampires. Anyway, the main character, Rae, at one point has her own personal magic-handling capabilities change in her, and she describes it as a settling-down, as a filling. And that's what I felt. A settling-down, a filling. A rightness. Visiting Nate was the right thing to do. It had to be done. For the time being, at (the very) least, we belong together.
And I'm not scared anymore.

Interlude of choice...

So I'm leaving in an hour or so for the airport; I probably won't be posting for a few days. See you when I get back!

With all the hope that I could beg or borrow/I can't wait, can't wait for tomorrow

Sooooo...tomorrow's the day. *gulp* Not that I'm nervous or anything. I mean, come on. Me? Nervous? Never! *passes out from nerves*
Ok, so I admit it. I'm terrified that something will go horribly wrong and the weekend will be awful. And I'm embarassed to admit it, but a tiny little part of me almost hopes that it will, because I'm still so convinced that I am unlovable.
ANYway. Not much else to say, except..*gulp* Alright. I really ought to go pack...

Like a thief in the night/It can control you

I sang today, for the first time in a very long time, for someone other than myself. I sang for my sister. We were talking about her German class, and about how if she has to do an oral presentation for her final, she should translate a song and perform it. I suggested one that she'd never heard, or even heard of, so I sang it for her. It's an...interesting song. Very pretty melody, very funny words; it's called "I am Cow."
I've been trying to cut down on the "self-injury" (though it doesn't hurt, and isn't that kind of a qualifier for injury?) lately, and it's been extraordinarily difficult. Those of you who know me have, I think, become almost used to seeing me with red marks on my arms, and to a much smaller extent my face; it's been basically an essential part of me for so long now I can't remember not ever doing it. I think it started about twelve years ago, so...half my life, almost. I tried to stop completely a while ago, and ended up doing more damage without even noticing until afterwards. It's not something I think I'll ever be able to stop completely--there has to be some physical way for me to manifest my stress and agitation. I think the best I can hope for is less frequent, less visible, and more localised. But we'll see.
And now I'm off to bed, because I'm really really tired.

Anywhere I roam/Where I lay my head is home

Just thought the title was especially appropriate, since I've never had a home. *pities self for a moment* Okay, moving on.
Short entry tonight, as I'm in a relatively significant amount of pain and want to go to bed. No, no, the Headache didn't come back. Well, okay, yes, it did, but not because it just arbitrarily decided to overcome the meds and attack me again. No. This morning an eight-foot-high, solid-wood bookcase fell on my head. Or, more accurately, one of the sharp corners did. My coworkers and the nurse at work all reassured me that the dent that has formed in my skull because of said bookcase falling on my head will disappear in a couple of days. All of this background to explain why the effing migraine came back.
I was doing a bit of reading today, (as usual) and it struck me that there aren't many, if any, known famous borderlines. There are presumed borderlines, but it could just be somebody with a nasty temper or who was very spoilt as a child and never grew up. Not to mention none of the well-known borderline portrayals by Hollywood are very accurate. Take Fatal Attraction, for example. It's classic borderline behaviour, except most borderlines--not all, but most (which is an important distinction) don't act that aggressively towards others. It's like...okay. Take Glenn Close's behaviour towards Michael Douglas. Instead of her being so aggressive towards him, imagine her directing all that behaviour inwards towards herself, taking out all the hurt and pain--which is entirely sincere, by the way; she's not manipulating him out of a sick need to be cruel, she really does feel like she needs him--on herself. Although, if pushed far enough, the alternate ending is entirely plausible.
It's just...it's hard, and it's frustrating, and I feel like I can't really talk to anyone about it because they don't understand it and it's not like I can explain it to them because I don't have a very good grasp on it myself. I mean, how do you explain how you work, how you function, how you are, to someone whose perspective is so wholly different?
Eventually, when I have time and motivation and am pain-free, I will give a discourse, or a ramble, or maybe even a rant, on the theory of "I hate you, don't leave me." Which, actually, makes complete sense to me.

I'll know it by the feeling/The moment that we're meeting

Sorry it's been so long. I'm not sure if you've been worried or indifferent, either way, I'm back. I know you care that I'm back, at least, because you're actually reading this. So. Not sure where I was going with that.
The Headache basically came back with a vengeance and knocked me flat on my back, enough to nearly knock me unconscious. I've only ever hurt that bad before once, when some internal stitches ruptured about a week after my surgery. Anyway, I made it to the doctor (a different doctor this time, my regular doctor) who asked me a few questions and told me I have bilateral migraines. Which explains why I didn't originally think the Headache was a migraine, because aforementioned migraines tend to focus on one part of the head, whereas mine was all over at the same time. Anyway, it's mostly better now. Not completely, but for usually 18 or 20 hours a day I'm fine. Which is a HUGE relief.
My tooth got fixed, too. Just a little aside there.
I'm trying not to let my excitement and nerves get the better of me. So far, so good, but by Thursday morning I'll probably be a twitchy wreck. Ugh.
The work drama continues. The client who's been in and out of the hospital for the past eight weeks got home last Friday (not the most recent one, but the one before that), had a psychotic break and went back to the hospital the next day. He came back again this past Thursday, with nothing changed except for an increase in his Ativan levels, which won't do him ANY good when he starts seeing snakes coming out of his throat like he did last time, except maybe he won't freak out and instead he'll be all, "oh, look, snakes. Cool." Anyway, on Saturday morning he freaked out again so he went BACK to the hospital. Again. In the past eight weeks he's been home for six days. I wish the office staff (composed primarily of idiots) would quit thinking about funding and just do the right thing, which is put him in the state hospital where they can keep him safe while they fix whatever's wrong with him. But, of course, I'm a lowly night attendant. Why would anyone ever listen to me, even though what I have to say is freaking common sense? I give up.
On to another issue. I was told last night by a coworker that I have the body of a calendar girl. I thanked her, and didn't crack up laughing until she was out of earshot. I'm sorry, but...me? Come on. I'm a freaking size eight. Size eights aren't calendar girls. Size fours, maybe. Twos, yes. Eights, no. Plus, I'm not exactly, erm, toned. Okay, fine, I admit it. From the neck down I'm not unappealing. From the neck up is another story. I've never, ever been conventionally beautiful, or even unconventionally beautiful. And I'm actually, finally, becoming okay with that. Because beauty fades. Personality, however, is forever, and I've got personality in freaking spades. I'm better at charming people with who I am than with how I look. Actually, until I started playing WoW I'd only ever had one guy hit on me, and that was Aaron. But when people couldn't see me, but just talk to me and hear me, things changed a lot. I grew so much more confident, because I realised that, yes, personality does in fact matter. Looks aren't everything.
Ironically, it was after I figured that out that my boobs finally decided to expand alarmingly to full-D size. I'm a bit worried about buying more bras, though, because every time I do, I go up another size. I'm not too keen on that, really.
What else? Oh, yes. Because I'm stupid, I bought a shirt that lights up. Don't ask. When I get the time I'm going to operate and remove the bits that light up, and maybe jump on them a bit, just for fun.
I got Chalice in the mail, but I'm saving it for the plane ride. Only McKinley could hold my attention, but I might actually just end up sleeping, because my dad is being very stubborn and a bit stupid and refusing to drive me to the airport himself and rather is making me do it. Normally I'd be thrilled, because I love to drive, but there's a slight...ok, more than slight problem. I'll be coming off a night shift. As in, I will have been up for quite some time, and will have to stay up for quite some time longer. I was kind of counting on being able to nap in the car on the way up, but obviously I can't do that if I'm driving. I wish I was like the thingummy demon from Sunshine that gets all the sleep it needs by blinking its eyes. Wouldn't that be great?

(Instrumental)

Not feeling well at all, for myriad reasons. I'll actually post when I'm better.

With pocketfuls of quips and gurgles/Words that fluff like a fistful of gerbils

Tonight's my last night for this round, then I'm done for a bit. With work, I mean. Which will be nice. I really don't like my job. It's better than most jobs I've had, but I still don't like it. At least most of the time I'm not dealing with anybody, which helps a lot. I tend to think of it in two-week chunks, because that's how my schedule goes--in two-week chunks.
Oh! For those of you readers (yes, I use the plural, and I'll explain why in a moment) who know me in person, you'll be pleased to know that I have joined the Klutz Klub. Yes, it is spelled with a "k". Apparently my favourite author, Robin McKinley, has started one in honour of all those terrible klutzes out there, and the only requirement of membership is to post a truly klutzy moment on the Klub web site. So I posted the one about me falling out of bed and nearly breaking my leg because of it. The membership cards are really very pretty, I'd recommend going to her site and checking them out...plus it's fun to read stories of people klutzier than you are.
As for the "readers" (plural) comment, I've finally forced myself to acknowledge that there are multiple people who read this, considering there are something like 28 individual people who read this thing in Israel alone. Yeah, I know. Israel. How cool is that? So, to my readers in Isreal (I hate to use the term Israeli because you could, for all I know, be an ex-pat living there), eight million points each.

Keepers of the flames/Do you hear your names

Sorry about not posting yesterday, but I had to stay up till past noon to see the doctor about the Headache, which is, apparently, merely a Sinus Infection, and therefore antibiotics, the Eighth Wonder of the World, will fix it. So my head still hurts, but nowhere near as badly as it did a couple days ago. Did I mention almost passing out a couple of times from the pain? It was awful. N. is, understandably, concerned, not just about the headache, but about reputed possible side effects from the antibiotics...*snicker*
I've been spending a great deal of time sleeping, mostly because I'm nearing the end of my workweek and therefore can, and also because I've been very tired lately. Both of which are, I think, good reasons to sleep lots.
I'm terribly excited, because I get to see Nate in just over two weeks.
I'm also a bit pissed, because my parents have banded together and told me that I can't go back to the hospital (apparently even if I really, really need it) because they're not willing to pay the bills again. I was soooo close to telling them that, if things progress on their normal course, I won't go back until next Christmas anyway and by then I'll be off their insurance and therefore the bills will be my responsibility anyway. And they're reneging on our original agreement, that I'd get therapy and whatnot, and that they'd pay for it. Now I have to pay for it. Which, all things considered, means I won't be going much anymore, because I can't afford it. I make virtually nothing, and they make a hell of a lot more than I do. I wonder how they'll react when I tell them. Oh, well. It doesn't really bear considering at this point.
I think I'll go back to bed.

The sunlight is fading/The longest shadows have been cast

Yesterday I was feeling...I dunno, I guess the word is nostalgic, so I went back to my very first blog and read some of the entries there. I was very surprised at the quality of the writing in said blog, especially as compared to the quality of the writing now. It's definitely less...interesting. Granted, I had more than a couple friends back then, and I actually had a life so there was more to talk about, but still. I was also happier back then. I think a great deal of that has to do, again, with being surrounded by my friends and being in a place I felt moderately comfortable. Here in Fairhell, I have no friends and feel very much like an outsider, which can't be good for one's mental health. Looking back, I think, too, that getting a single room was a mistake. It became far too easy to isolate myself from everyone. If I had had a single in a dorm where I had friends, that probably would have been different, but...we learn from our mistakes. It's just frustrating that it had to be such a huge mistake on my part.
But I digress. The old blog was a hell of a lot more entertaining than this one is, at least I think so. It's more...lighthearted, and there's a variety of content as opposed to here, which is all, "Today I did (blank) and (blank) and (blank)."
The creepy guy at work isn't talking to me anymore, which is absolutely wonderful, though he is standing funny, puffing his chest out and trying to swagger. Note how I say trying. He's not built for swaggering, plus I doubt he actually knows how. It would be rather humorous, except that I try not to look at him. Ever. Because like I said, he's creepy.

The world ends without a tragedy/Time is melting into history

I'm terribly excited. I get to see Nate in a few weeks, and then I get to see M. a few weeks after that. It's all I can do to not literally jump up and down with glee and excitement and a bit of nervousness. (Jumping up and down would be bad, because it would make the Headache worse)
Funny work story. So one of the clients, B., is more "with it" than most of the people who live there, but she's still...she's still there for a reason. Anyway, a few days ago, she had put a pan on the stove to cook something (which she's not allowed to do without supervision), and then, for some reason, took the pan off the stove and took it outside the apartment, where she then put it down on the floor. The carpeted floor. The synthetic carpeted floor. The aforementioned synthetic carpet promptly melted and started smoking and it set the fire alarms off, so they had to evacuate the building. There's a giant hole in the hallway carpet, and nobody knows just why she put the pan on the floor to begin with. Granted, this is the woman who flushes rubber gloves down the toilet for fun, but still. I'm just glad the carpet is made of synthetic fibers as opposed to natural ones, otherwise we probably would have had a fire on our hands. I say "our," but I wasn't actually there at the time, which is why I think the whole thing is funny. If I was there, and had to evacuate everybody, I doubt I would have gotten as much of a kick out of it.
I have a psychiatrist appointment on Thursday morning. I don't remember the exact time, which is bad, but I can call and find out. I'm kind of looking forward to it, because I like my psychiatrist, but at the same time I'm not, because as of late I haven't been tolerating any new medications very well and she'll probably want to try something else. Grar. I mean, there's always the chance that something will, in fact, work, which would be very nice indeed, but somehow I doubt that'll happen any time soon. Wish me luck, people.

In a field of yellow flowers/Underneath the sun

So once again I got yelled at at work. One of my coworkers, who is the single laziest person I know, was reaming me out for getting my guys up on my own. Keep in mind, she was the one assigned to help me, but she just sat and watched TV while I worked, and then she got mad at me for not finding someone else to help. I was a little bit confused, considering it was her job to help me, but then again, this is her we're talking about. I just shrugged her off and kept working.
I almost passed out this morning, from the Headache. It's getting worse by the hour now. I managed to get an appointment with my doctor on Monday morning, thank God. It's all I can do not to burst into tears, but crying will only make it hurt worse. I know this from experience.
I did something very stupid last night, and I spent most of my time at work bitching myself out for it. It was totally uncalled for, and immature, and hurtful, and just plain wrong. I'm so sorry. I'm just so scared I screwed things up beyond repair...please, God, let things be ok.
Back to work tonight. Yippee. Not.
It's infernally hot here, like 80-something, which also makes me want to cry. Geez, if I let myself go I'd be sobbing for days over inconsequential things, except for the one major screwup.But I did cry about that one, so...yeah.

I will twist the knife/And bleed my aching heart

The past few days have been really hard. As in, when I took my sister to Rochester yesterday, I very nearly kicked her out of the car so I could drive said car into an overpass pylon at 75 mph with no seat belt. It's still a very tempting thought. I told my shrink about it this morning, and he was more understanding than I thought he'd be. Granted, when I explained just why I wanted to do it, it made a lot of sense, even to me. Ever feel like doing something everybody has accused you of either doing or wanting to do, just to prove them right so they'll leave you alone? My parents, having found out about my most recent cutting incident--which revolved around my mom's comment, by the way--I wonder how she'd feel about it, if I told her she's the reason I started cutting again--decided that I, in fact, couldn't take my sister to Rochester because "I wasn't safe to drive her," meaning that I'd put her life at risk. Hello, you stupid prats, I would never put someone else's life in danger. Just my own, because it's not worth as much. I'm tired of them going into a panic every time I try to be honest with them about something. I'd much rather just prove them right, that I'm a freaking hazard to myself, end it all, and be done with it.
God, it's tempting.

With a thousand lies/And a good disguise

So this morning I had to go to work at six, which means I had to be up by five. I wake up, look at my alarm clock, and panic because it says 6:32. So I bolt out of bed and over to my computer, thinking that maybe when I set my alarm I accidentally set the clock, too. Nope. So the first thing that runs through my head is "oh, fuck." The second thing that runs through my head is, "well, I won't make it in to work until 7:30, so I'll just call in. Besides, I have to take the Joj (my sister) over to Mayo Clinic (which is two hours away) this morning, so I'll let them know I have to take my sister to the hospital too." I did just that, I just neglected to tell them precisely when I had to take her to the hospital. I've never called in to work before, so I doubt they'll be too upset. And I saw the schedule last time I was working, and they were fully staffed. So (I hope) it wasn't a big deal. I hope. *cringes in terror that nobody showed up this morning*
So we get there, having been told in no uncertain terms that she absolutely had to be there at 11:30, only to be told upon checking in at the desk that her appoinment wasn't until 1 pm. *headdesk* So we ambled off to get lunch, and in the process discovered a Barnes & Noble. I figured, 'now's as good a time as any to pick up Chalice,' so we wandered around the store checking every possible place, only to not find it anywhere. I therefore did the only responsible thing left to do: I found a salesperson and bullied them into helping me. In their defense, they did try to help me, but none of the B&N's in Rochester bothered to order any copies of Chalice, so I left empty-handed. I wasn't happy at all about that. I'm still inclined to pout, actually.
We went back for the appointment, which took a whole fifteen minutes, and were politely shown the door. So Joj and I hopped in the car and decided to stop at the mall on the way home to see if I could find anything to cheer me up. I couldn't, which was, in itself, rather depressing. But we made it home in time for dinner, and (once again) my blasted headache is raging.Why me?

If you want me/Come and find me

Not a whole lot better from yesterday, though I was able to vent a little bit when I went to pick up my brother from school. He was in a particularly bad mod, and when he directed it at me I told him to either shape up or get out of the car. It's about a two mile walk, so he got real quiet and stared out the window for the rest of the ride home.
CHALICE CAME OUT TODAY! I'm going to order it from Amazon eventually, but I have so many other new books to read...it absolutely kills me. *grumbles* I'm sure I'll survive, but it's not my idea of fun to put off getting a book I've been anxiously awaiting for a YEAR.
So I got hold of this show called "Hex", which is actually rather interesting. I'm enjoying it so far; I've seen the first four episodes (there were only 20 or 21 made) and it's remarkably well-done. It's...well, I suppose it could be considered a British version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, except there aren't any vampires and there isn't any slaying. So I'm not sure what to compare it to, exactly, or even how to describe it except that it's dark and grim and very well-written. And it's British, did I mention that? Hence my liking it. They even killed off a main character in the very first episode. How do I know she's a main character? It's...complicated. But cool.
It's over seventy degrees outside right now, I feel like I'm going to melt. Yesterday it was a glorious 55 degrees--at the hottest point of the day. I don't know where the nice weather went, but it's miserable outside now. *pouts*
I feel a bit awkward at the moment. Yesterday apparently I was instant messaged by someone I haven't seen in three or four years (I haven't kept track because I never particularly cared), but I didn't get the message till today. I felt a bit bad, so I replied. It's just...well, this particular fellow and I were never exactly friends, more like the smile-and-nod-politely-in-the-person's-general-direction type acquaintances. He's my brother's friend, kind of, though he and my brother were never exactly close, either. It's just all a bit weird, especially since we first met in high school, and I'd much rather not have any connection whatsoever to my high school existence. He wasn't a bad guy, mind you, but...I guess I always categorised him as a "all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing"type.
Oh, well. Can't have everything, now, can I?

This day, this day of wrath/Shall consume the world in ashes

So I don't really know what to say today. I went to work, which was (wonderfully) uneventful. I came home, read a bit, took a nap, received some disappointing news, overreacted to said news, bitched to my sister about said news, ate dinner, read some more, and took a shower. I'm kind of, mostly better now, because (I think) I've found a way around the problem that arose (I hope). I'm not sure yet, because life has a way of sucking ass.
Speaking of sucking, my mom showed me (again) the bill from my hospital stay, and after I told her that yes, I'd seen the original balance, she muttered something about "We don't have the money for this," which makes me wonder why the hell she let me go in the first place. If it's such a problem, mother, then don't offer to drive me there, don't offer to let me live at home while I get my act together so that you can cover my medical bills and don't let me go in the first place. All your muttering and glowering and whingeing about costs does is make me feel even worse about being sick in the first place, which in turn makes me worse. Why can't you understand that? Don't you realise that I already carry shitloads of guilt around every day, solely because I feel that I shouldn't even exist? If it's such a fucking problem you should have just let me die on my bedroom floor seven years ago when you found me that night. Pick one or the other, but don't get all concerned about me and then gripe about the costs afterwards. It doesn't do anybody a lick of good and all it does is make me even more resentful. It's precisely this kind of crap from you that makes me hate talking to you, that makes me want to get away from you and never see you again.

Sorry, guys. That was uncalled for and I know it wasn't something you particularly wanted to see, read, or even know about.

I believe the world is burning to the ground/Oh, well. I guess we're gonna find out

So I started reading The Historian again last night, and I still love it as much this time as I did the last two times I've read it. It's a beautifully crafted story, so well crafted that, unless you're looking for it, you don't notice that you never learn the main character's name. Plus it has vampires, which makes it even better.
It's cold in my room. It's like fifty-something outside, and my room is...colder than that. The rest of my house has central air, but, as I keep repeating, my room does not. So I'm wrapped up in blankets and shivering just a bit. I can't find one of my slippers, so instead of being sensible and putting on extra socks (or something along those lines), I've just jammed both my feet into the slipper I could find. Yes, this is how my mind works.
My team won today, thereby restoring themselves to my good graces after their ignominious defeat last week at the hands of the (shudder) Bears. Granted, they almost lost, and to the Vikings, no less, but they pulled it off in the end, and that's what really matters. Granted, it means that my boss is going to be in a foul mood tomorrow, as she is rather a die-hard Vikings fan, but I think that as long as I don't wander around cheering "Go Colts!" I should be ok. As long as she doesn't remember that the Colts are my team. And I had to explain some of the rules of football to my mom, which was weird, because I never thought I knew enough about football to explain some of the technicalities to someone else, but apparently I do. My dad was in the room at the time, and he was very proud.
My sister bought (actually, my mom bought for my sister) the fifth Artemis Fowl book. I'm tempted to pick it up and read it, because it takes Joj forever and a day to finish a book, but I've got about a dozen books of my own to read, first, so maybe later this week I'll get around to it. We'll see. I've got other things to do, first, though. Like hope and pray I can...well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Or I will, anyway. Maybe. If the world decides to slant things in my favour for once.
My brother S.'s insulin pump stopped working on either Friday or Saturday, (I don't remember which because my days all run together) which was bad, because he's a freaking diabetic and kinda sorta needs insulin to stay alive. He called the doctor and they told him they'd see him on Monday for it, which is stupid because like I just said, he's a diabetic and it needed to be fixed immediately. I'm not sure what he did, because I don't think he carries around spare vials of the stuff just in case his pump breaks. He'll cope, I know, because he's good at coping (far better than I am, in any case; but really that shouldn't be surprising because I can barely cope with normal stuff and so even your standard, everyday run-of-the-mill crisis tends to send me into histrionics) but I do have to admit I'm a bit curious to see if he managed to do something creative about it. He's a creative one, my brother. Ask me about his Cuba travel journal, or his paper on the ancient Phoenicians. He makes me look like I don't have a creative bone in my body. Which I very well may not, but that's totally beside the point.

I have faltered, I have stumbled/I have found my feet again

So I was reading this evening, and I thought that maybe an hour, at most two, had passed, and when I finally put my book down I found out I'd been reading for over four hours...It's a little bit embarassing, especially because it happens to me all the time. Ok, not all the time, but a lot.The world could literally come to a spectacular end, and I wouldn't notice.
So I used to take Ambien to help me sleep, but my doctor had me stop because I had started to see motion trails all the time, and he thought it was somehow connected. Well, it's been over two years now, and I'm still seeing motion trails. I'm not entirely sure what's going on there, but it's low on my priority list at the moment. I've got other things to deal with, like this thrice-damned headache. I'd condemn it more than three times, but there's no word for four times, at least not that I'm aware of.
Oh, and a British girl I know from high school helped me out with the Aga question; apparently it's a type of old-fashioned stove.
It's frustrating, you know? I was doing better, I really was, but...M., don't be mad, but I owe you $3. (At least it's 3 and not thirty, right?) And before you ask why I did it, I don't know. I just...had to. Granted, I always feel like I have to, but sometimes it's just too much to say no to.I guess I should consider myself fortunate that that particular situation doesn't arise very often.
So I read Twilight a while ago, and it wasn't as terrible as I was expecting, but it wasn't as good as I'd hoped. Granted, I'm fussy and nitpicky; but it was very well-written. It's just...it was very obviously written for people who read at the 8th-grade level, and that's...irritating. I like my books to offer a challenge, or to at least...not be easy. But if you're looking for a quick, easy, mostly engaging read, I'd say go for it. If you're looking for something a little more difficult and not that quick, I've got boatloads to recommend. All you have to do is ask.

I'm taking my time/To plan your demise

I love Voltaire. Not the writer (well, yes, I love Voltaire the writer; I think Candide was absolutely brilliant), I mean the singer. His music is so entrancingly morbid. I owe my old roommate T. a great deal for introducing me to his music. Granted, some of his stuff is a bit...out there, like his 'Cannibal Buffet' song, but for the most part it's just great stuff. I also get a big kick out of the Arrogant Worms, because, I mean, hey, who couldn't love the Last Saskatchewan Pirate?
It's my weekend off, which is very nice, because I was growing more and more exhausted with every passing hour and I needed a break. I'm relieved I finally got one. I plan on sleeping in and doing laundry and other productive things. Or maybe I'll just stay in bed and read, which is a very appealing option.
Anybody out there know what an Aga is? I keep coming across references to it in a British blog that I read, and I have no idea what it is...the best option I've found is a Swedish refrigerator, and somehow that doesn't quite seem to make sense. I have, however, learned that the Brits don't go in much for central heating, and since it's rather a Northern country I feel a bit bad for them. I can empathise with their plight, seeing as how my bedroom here in Minnesota doesn't have heating either, which sucks big time.
I shaved my legs today, but I forgot I had a new razor and pressed down rather too hard a couple times so I sliced up my knee a bit...stupid thing. I hate shaving my legs. A lot.
Everybody who reads this, all two of you, needs to check out YouTube for the song "I Google You". It's hilarious and slightly creepy. The lyrics (and melody) were written by Neil Gaiman, and it's sung by the chick from The Dresden Dolls, which is another good yet slightly disturbing band. What is it with me and things that are (at least) slightly disturbing? You know what? Never mind. I don't think I want to know, and I doubt you really do, either.

I'm still a rock star/I've got my rock moves

Sorry about missing yesterday, but I couldn't wake up for the life of me. Oh, well. Sleep is more important than blogging. (GASP! Such heresy!)
I've been alone each morning the past 3 times I've worked, which is okay but it's very tiring. Getting four wheelchair-bound guys up, showered, dressed, and fed in 3 hours is energy-consuming.
I got sick again today, I think I ate something that disagreed with me. Or something. I feel better now, though, except for that thrice-damned headache.
I had the news playing in the background this morning at work, and I had completely forgotten that it was the whole 9-11 anniversary. But there it was, all over the news. Which was fine, because it was a tragedy (though I firmly believe that if they're going to commemorate it every year, they should commemorate the other acts of domestic terrorism that have occured, too, like the Oklahoma City bombing back in the 90's) that ought not be repeated--ANYWHERE--but then they started reading off the names of everyone who died. Which is boring. And very, very time consuming. Forgive me for not being more sympathetic, but I spent 3 and a half years in Peru while a very large terrorist group was very, very active and I routinely fell asleep to the sounds of bombs going off. While I was there the Ecuadorian embassy was burned to the ground by said rebel group. School was cancelled at least once a month because the roads were filled with rubble from nearby buildings having been bombed into oblivion. When I lived in Venezuela there were riots in the streets all the time. To be honest, terrorism doesn't shock me anymore because I grew up with it. So I don't think very highly of the war on terror, because they're not doing enough.
ANYway. I'm done with work until Monday, which is nice. I get to sleep at night, which will be a nice change from sleeping during the day.
OH! There was a frost warning a few nights ago, which was freaking awesome. I was so happy, even though it didn't get quite cold enough to actually frost over. I love the cold. The colder the better. I'm still hoping to move to Alaska one day.
My dad is getting sick now, I think he has what my mom had. She's finally better, but Dad is miserable. At least he works from home, so it's not too bad that he's too sick to leave the house. Hopefully I don't get sick too, because that would really suck.