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.