I just can't resist the urge/To stand here in the light

There's actually going to be a day about me. That's weird. I mean, yeah, ok, I know that there won't be that many people there, maybe 30 if everyone who says they're gonna come actually comes, but that's about it. But it's still weird. I've always been that one. If I didn't want to be noticed, and you tried to pick me out of a crowd, you'd be wrong. I'd be the other one. And I'm not huge on attention. But...
I have a day. In 9 days, I will have a day. It's frightening, yet wonderful. And then I'll be able to be with Andrew--my family. He IS my family. The people who raised me are just...the people who raised me. But Andrew showed me what family can mean. I only wish that more of my friends--the rest of the people who matter to me--could come. So I could share this with them. Share my day, with the people who mean the most.
I have a day.


Dum, dum, dee-dum, dum, dum, dee-dum...

Sorry it's been so long. In my defense, things have been a bit chaotic.
So...the wedding is coming up in a little over two months now, and I'm starting to panic JUST A LITTLE BIT.
Which may have contributed to my development of asthma, but then again, knowing my disease-prone history, probably not. On that front, it's not going so well, and I will probably have to begin routine (i.e. daily) nebulizer treatments as the handful of inhalers I currently use aren't working.
But back to the wedding. I'm excited--I just got the wedding party favors in from Costa Rica (yes, Thellie and Michelle, you're getting nifty Costa Rica stuff) and the regular wedding favors in from (insert company name here), so the rest of you who read this who are coming will also be getting something nifty and a bit out of the ordinary. Very little left to do, actually, except for find a nifty car to leave the reception with. And have it out with the photographer over who is in what picture and how many and where and such. Other than that, things are pretty much set. Which is terribly exciting, because I always thought that weddings were horribly nightmarish in the putting-together bits and all one could do afterwards was collapse into the nearest convenient chair and mumble "so glad it's over!" to the nearest conscious body. Not to say that that won't happen, but thus far things have been running relatively smoothly. Which means I have pretty much jinxed everything now.
Oh, yes, and apparently I've been missing work not for my rather (read: extremely) dramatic and sudden onset of asthma, but because of gastric bypass surgery. Must have gone wrong or something, for me to miss so much work. If anyone feels like telling me about how I decided to get the surgery done, or what went wrong, please tell me, because I'm totally blanking. Must be the inhalers. Or the ativan, but that's a different story.


If you are dead or still alive/I don't care

So it's been six weeks, or so, since I last posted. Things have been hard, and easy, and good, and awful. I had to go back to therapy for a short while to recover from the client's death (see last post) because every time I closed my eyes I saw his already-cold and stiffening body and his eyes, his horrible horrible eyes, open and blank and staring right at me, saying, "why didn't you save me?" For the most part I'm better now, but once in a while I still see him and start to hyperventilate.
I got engaged, which is absolutely wonderful. At some point I'm going to post a picture of the ring, etc, but I haven't actually gotten round to it yet although we've been engaged for like 3 weeks. For those of you who read this who I haven't contacted directly for addresses and minor notifications, I'm really sorry but that means you're most likely not invited because we're having an absolutely tiny wedding because of a myriad reasons not the least of which being my problem with crowds in general, a dislike of most of the people we'd have to invite because our coworkers are creepy, and cost. It doesn't mean we don't like you or anything, it's just that we have to keep it down to an absolute minimum of people.
As for the story of how it happened, we had made plans to go to this street dance thing (though it's more a stand-around-in-the-street thing) for a few hours before I headed into work for my weekend on shift, so I dressed up a little bit. He had talked to my dad earlier in the day, which I knew about, but I figured the question itself wouldn't pop up until the next weekend because I was working this weekend. Anyway, he took me to the one and only nice restaurant in town, saying basically "what the hell, we're dressed nice anyway, might as well do this right." I wanted to know how things went with Dad, but he told me that he wasn't really up for talking about it until after we finished eating. I was, of course, very worried because it sounded like Dad had said no. We finish eating, I go to the bathroom, and get back to the table and he says, "before you sit down, this is how it went with your dad." He had a ring in his hand and got down on one knee and I started just bawling while he's talking, and I'm so overwhelmed that I'm not actually paying attention to the details of what he was saying (but he doesn't know that yet) and then.
A little old lady walks up and starts talking at us, "oh, isn't that sweet, oh it's so pretty" etc etc etc and ANDREW WASN'T EVEN DONE ASKING YET!! I did, of course, say yes and it was terribly exciting and I fulfilled my promise to Michelle to call her first. I'm excited.
And now I'm in Chicago with him, for a group reunion of sorts, with a lot of the people I hung out with in college the first couple of years, and I haven't seen any of them in at least two years and I did some nasty things before we started hanging out and so I was very nervous that it would go badly but it's been going quite well thus far except for when they all called my ex boyfriend and wanted to talk to him and I felt terribly terribly awkward.
And I'm sure there's more to talk about, like how my brother is back home for the summer because he couldn't find a teaching job down in Texas and the job in Korea fell through because of the whole scary maybe-war thing. And how I hate my job more and more and more every day but I really don't want to get into detail because I'm very sure you don't want to hear about my alcoholic slutty coworkers or the antics of my clients or the more disgusting aspects of my job that primarily involve body fluids. My elementary-school sense of humor (you know, the one where you laugh when someone says Winnie the Pooh because, OMG, they said "poo") has come back into play because being able to laugh at the whole body-fluids thing is the only way to get through it. So I find poo funny again. And how old am I?

I'll try to get back to actually writing in this thing, as it's fun and cathartic and it keeps my typing semi up to par. Kind of. And it's a lot easier than having to repeat my story over and over again to various people when it's much easier to just write it down once. Granted only two or three people are even interested in my stories, but you get the point. I think. Maybe.


Raise their souls up to the sky/Why must helpless creatures die?

There was another death at work. This one on Thursday night/Friday morning, my shift. Since I can't call him his real name, we'll call him Gerald. He just...died, in the middle of the night. My coworker, Natasha, found him first and screamed for me and I saw it and called 911 and the boss and the nurses and everything else is a fog. For several reasons. Reason number one: that apartment was my responsibility to check every hour. Room one, check that she's not on her stomach and that her body pillow is in the right place; Room two, that he hasn't wet himself; Room 3 that he hasn't fallen out of bed; and Room 4 to drain the catheter bag and rotate him to prevent bedsores. Gerald was in room 3. So all night I peeked in, ok, he's still on the bed, good. That was all. That's all bed checks are. He hadn't been sick or degrading medically so breathing checks weren't necessary. He'd been dead for four hours when we found him. After my spurt of efficiency. I sat down and just...left. My mind went totally blank. People are still wondering if I'm ok and I think they were rather worried about it; looking back, I wasn't too far from having to be taken to the hospital myself for shock.

the funeral was yesterday.

I feel horrible about this. I just...yeah.


I will hope for things unseen now/One day my heart will be at peace

This weekend was...eventful.
First, a coworker was driving into work on Sunday morning and got swiped on the Interstate by a blue truck (which kept going, by the way) and she was forced off the road and almost off the overpass she happened to be on. She hit her head and has a bump, and the car is rather banged up, but she's fine.
Second, Sunday afternoon a client was found dry-humping his housemate in her bed. Yes, they are different genders, and yes, it's allowed, because he hadn't made any sort of sexual advances towards anyone since 1996. Then he tried to do the same to two different staff people. The housemate got moved into a different apartment, but that's only temporary due to legal restrictions.
In case I never clarified, I work for an ICFs/MR, which is an Intermediate Care Facility for people with Mental Retardation. Yes, that is the actual, technical, legal term. Basically, these people can't function in society for one reason or another--either their MR is too profound, or it's not bad but they have significant health/other mental issues that prevent them from living in more informal settings. I am a night attendant there, and unlike less formal houses, called Waivered Homes (meaning the regulations regarding care of people with MR are waived somewhat because they are very high-functioning), it's an awake job. The people I care for need 24-hour awake care for various reasons--catheters need to be drained, they get bedsores and need to be rotated, they have seizures, they're schizophrenic, they're bipolar and while manic don't sleep, etc.
Third event. Another client, we'll call him Fred (no, that's not his name. I'm bound by HIPAA laws to some extent), was complaining of a headache and was throwing up on Friday. He got Tylenol for the headache, and by the time I got there at 11 pm he was fine. He slept all night and woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Saturday morning.
Fourth event. When I get to work Saturday night, I'm told that Fred is in the hospital because his stomach bloated up and made him look five months pregnant. He's only 95 pounds anyway, so....yeah. Turns out, he had a massive air bubble in his colon and the only treatment for it is lots of pain meds and a clear liquid diet to keep the intestine empty while waiting for the gas to leave--i.e., have a massive fart. I notify various other people who left messages to be informed and went about my business.
Fifth event. Fred died at 8:30 pm yesterday, April 5. He was twenty-five years old. He just...stopped breathing.
I was out of contact for a few hours before I went into work because I don't have a cell phone and wasn't home, so I didn't find out until I got to work at 10 pm. Once everybody but my fellow night-attendant cleared out, I called home and asked that they call Andrew, because I needed to talk to him.
Andrew used to work where I work now, you see. And Fred was his favorite client.
Andrew showed up a few minutes later, and held me and reassured me and just in general helped me feel a LOT better. He also brought caffeine and ice cream and flowers (yes, flowers) and Solace. He helped so much, just by being there when I needed him, even though he had his own things to do. Andrew, I love you. Just so you know.
It's the first time anyone in my care has ever died, and if I stay in anything remotely similar to this line of work, I have no doubt I'll see it again, over and over.
But like another client pointed out to me this morning, at least now Fred can walk.
Sorry. I'm going to cry again for awhile, and then (finally) go to bed. It's been a long and horrible day.


Guess this means you take back/All you said before

So the Black Phoenix Lab perfume samples showed up, and I have to admit, at first I was very disappointed. I didn't like the way most of them smelled in the bottles, the exception being Two, Five, Seven. Everything else smelled--unappealing, at best. But I sucked it up and have been trying them one by one, so I've tried seven as of today: Two, Five, Seven; Cheshire Cat; Epitaph; Queen of Hearts; Engine No. 93; Tiger Lily; and Dirty.

Once on me, they all smell pretty good. So far I like Cheshire Cat the best; but is that really surprising? It doesn't hurt that it smells like a berry-chocolate tart of some kind. Two... smells like roses, but not just tea roses and let's face it--not all roses smell lovely. But it's also very nice. Dirty smells, somehow, like spring. Epitaph does, in fact, smell like a grave. Well, okay, to be more precise it smells like funerals. Which is cool and all, but not something I particularly want to go around evoking in the minds of everyone around me via my scent. Queen of Hearts starts out REALLY sweet, and it took about two hours for it to stop smelling like middle-aged-lady perfume. After that two-hour window, the sweetness faded to tolerable levels, but I'm still not a huge fan. Tiger Lily did smell like lilies; unfortunately some lilies are prevalent in funerals and so there is a VERY slight funereal effect, but it's mostly unnoticeable. Engine No. 93 smells good, but it's rather masculine so I'll probably pass it off to Andrew.
As for the eight, and as-yet-untested, bit, Envy, it might be awhile--simply because the vial fell out of the box and I can't find it.

Cheshire Cat is definitely my favourite of all of them, and I think I'll also order a bottle of Dirty and maybe even 2, 5, and 7 as well... we'll see how it goes.


What the hell am I doing here?/I don't belong here

So the Black Phoenix Lab perfume samples showed up, and I have to admit, at first I was very disappointed. I didn't like the way most of them smelled in the bottles, the exception being Two, Five, Seven. Everything else smelled--unappealing, at best. But I sucked it up and have been trying one per day, so I've tried three as of today: Two, Five, Seven; Cheshire Cat; and Dirty.

Once on me, they all smell pretty good. So far I like Cheshire Cat the best; but is that really surprising? It doesn't hurt that it smells like a berry-chocolate tart of some kind. Two... smells like roses, but not just tea roses and let's face it--not all roses smell lovely. But it's also very nice. Dirty smells, somehow, like spring. If I had unlimited funds, I'd buy bottles (full-sized ones) of all three, but I don't, so I'll probably just buy one of Cheshire Cat. But then, I've still got the other two that I ordered, plus the two free samply bits that I was sent, to try as well. So we'll see how this turns out.


Blackbird, fly...

So a few days ago I was driving home from Andrew's and I saw a dead black pigeon in the road. Knowing me and my extremely morbid sensibilities, you shouldn't be surprised when I tell you I spontaneously burst into song and made up some new lyrics to the Beatles' song, "Blackbird."

Blackbird laying in the middle of the road
Use your broken wings and try to fly
All your life
You were only praying that that car would pass you by.

Blackbird laying in the middle of the street
Use your sightless eyes and try to see
But your life
Was stolen by that monster SUV.

Blackbird died.
Blackbird died.

What? I'm morbid. Also, forever and a day ago I got hold of the Black Symphony, by WT, and I watched it...and, of course, loved it. Well, not all of it. There are some parts, like the ridiculous jacket Sharon wears in the beginning, and a couple of duets that could have been better, but still...overall, A+.


Raven's lad upon her hair/Clouds adrift on her skin

About 3 weeks ago I went to the doctor to get checked for a couple of things, one of them a UTI because my lower back was hurting. Turns out, I didn't have a UTI but a mild case of pyelonephritis, which is scary--even more scary is the fact that my back wasn't hurting because of it. I had a symptomless kidney infection.
What was making my back hurt, you ask? Well, this morning I went to the chiropractor, and it turns out that my tailbone was out of place. As well as another bone 2/3 up my spine and two bones in my neck. Woo-hoo. So now my back still hurts, but it hurts in a "been jerked around and the muscles are sore" type of way as opposed to a "there is something seriously wrong with my back" kind of way.
And so the saga of Winter and The Medical Problems That Won't Quit continues...


I'm going home/Gonna load my shotgun

I'm a bit ashamed of myself. I suppose that requires some explanation, doesn't it?
I've caved. I've never thought much of the idea of buying perfume online when you've never smelled it before, because, I mean, come on, people, just because something is described as "a light floral scent with slight citrus undertones" doesn't mean it actually smells good. And even if it does smell good on Cindy Lou Who, everybody's body chemistry is different and just because it smells fantastic on Cindy Lou doesn't mean it will be even remotely tolerable on me.
And yet fifteen minutes ago I went online to this (admittedly very, very cool website) and bought six "imp's ears," also known as "imps" (they're 0.5 mL samples) of perfumes. *headdesk* Granted, if even one of them smells good on me I'll probably buy a full-size bottle of it, but still...
I've been wearing the same perfume for...oh, gosh, five years now, I think. Maybe a little less. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the scent ("Rich floral fragrance captivates the senses with a heart of water hyacinth, brightened with mandarin and blond woods.") but it would be nice to have a little bit of variety once in a while. And it will only be once in a while, because by my calculations, I'd be paying three times as much for the new perfume as I do for the old one, were I to buy a same-sized bottle.
Oh, I suppose I should probably plug the site a bit; it's the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, and it has literally hundreds of different scents to choose from. The site itself is rather nifty, and you can buy samples of almost anything; you can't, however, buy samples of the Neil Gaiman- or Terry Pratchett-themed scents, which sucks because they sound interesting and I'd like to try a couple of them, just to say I have "Agness Nutter" scented perfume, but...I'm not willing to pay full price for something that could very well smell horrible on me. For example, this one perfume I've tried sounds quite nice ("Our fragrance interplays fresh, vibrant notes--ruby red grapefruit, bergamot--with soft, sensual ones--Hawaiian wedding flower, spring mimose") and it just so happens to smell like puke on me. No, I'm not kidding.
So, anyway, these are the ones I ordered, and I will let you know how they turn out, when I receive them in two to three weeks.

Cheshire Cat (can't imagine why I picked this one!)--Grapefruit, red currant, dark musk, Roman chamomile, delphinium, and lavender.
Ok, ok, confession. This doesn't actually sound appealing to me, but it's the Cheshire Cat; I mean, come on, people!

Two, Five, & Seven- A huge bouquet of squished rose petals: Bulgarian rose, Somalian rose, Turkish rose, Damascus rose, red and white rose, tea rose, wine rose, shrub roses, rose, rose, rose... and just an itty bitty bit of green grass.

Queen of Hearts- Lily of the valley, Calla lily, stephanotis and a drop of red cherry.

Tiger Lily- A feisty bouquet of golden, warm, gently honeyed lilies.

Epitaph- Roses and funeral lilies perceived, faintly, though an indistinct, ghostly mist.

Dirty- A fresh, crisp white linen scent: perfectly clean, perfectly breezy.

So, we'll see how they turn out. I'm trying not to get my hopes up.


But I can see/You're unimpressed

Sorry it's been so long. I feel a little ashamed, actually, that it's been well past the acceptable mark, at least in my opinion. But I am remedying that now, at least for now.
Work has been work, nothing great or special going on except that they ripped out the kitchen floor and therefore we don't have a kitchen downstairs and whoever brought out all the "necessary supplies" and put them in the (much smaller) upstairs kitchen did a really crummy job and most of what we need isn't available. *grump*
The latest Kim Harrison book has been out for over a week and it finally showed up at my door. Unfortunately, I can't read it right away because I've still got one-and-a-half library books to get through in the next few days and Margaret Atwood doesn't read terribly quickly. Hm. I might actually just finish that one (Blind Assassin, which is so far very good--but then, everything I've read by Atwood is phenomenal. But then [don't you love "but then's?] I've only read 3--this is the fourth--novels and a small handful of poems, so I don't know if I have a reliable foundation for saying she's great) and renew the other one for another three weeks, so I can read my Hollows book in peace. Actually, Thellie, you should read this series--you'd enjoy it. Dark urban fantasy, where a big chunk of the human population was killed off by a mutant virus that spread via a biogenetically engineered tomato.
Things are going very well with The Boy. I should point out that when I say "very well" I don't mean that we've never had an argument (actually, we haven't--the most we've ever had is a conversation that got a bit heated, but you get the idea) or never disagreed. We have, and it's been good, because we have been consistently working our way through that stuff, and each time it brings us a little closer (not that we can really get much closer, but you understand what I mean).
I may actually have the chance to introduce said Boy to "The Group" (if you're not sure it's you, it's not) this summer, as they're having a bit of a reunion and Headache #1 (I am Headache #2, btw, and the third party of this particular name-thing, Confusion, has dropped off the face of the earth. I used to feel quite upset about that, but over the past several years it has been downgraded to mild-to-moderate chagrin) sent out the letters and stated in said letters that significant others are invited as well.
Which brings me to another interesting bit. It's been years since I've seen these people. I've changed significantly, I know everyone who knows me from college would say so, except for maybe Austin because I was mostly like this around him anyway, but anyway the point I'm getting at is that I am almost a completely different person than I used to be and I'm not sure what (or who) they're expecting.
Some examples of changes in myself:
1. I actually have confidence now. I used to fake it, but now it's real.
2. I think well of myself.
3. I no longer dress in black. I mean, I wear some things that are black, but not that many and not all that often.
4. I smile a lot more.

Granted, I'm still the same person in the whole sarcasm, not willing to suffer fools, speak my mind sort of thing. But I'm finally comfortable with who I am and it shows, and I like it.


You can't understand/How I could just kill a man

So apparently my parents have arbitrarily raised my rent by 50%, and told me that it has, apparently, always been that high instead of the amount I've been paying them this whole time.
Nice to know how unworldly they are, that money doesn't matter.


I believe the sun also rises/Drying our tears, bringing the blue skies of day

Well, my aunt passed on Wednesday night. I was numb about the whole thing; still am, actually. I barely knew her, rarely saw her, so it's strange, more than anything. She'd come to visit every couple of years for a week or so, so that's actually going to be the hardest part--accepting that she's never going to come visit again. My mom is devastated, but she's coping remarkably well.
Remember the coworker I was talking about awhile ago, the one with lung cancer? She passed yesterday. That one hit me a lot harder, because I'd seen her so much and we would get letters and phone calls from her at work sometimes. Several clients close to her are also really sad. I spent a good part of the night at work trying not to cry. Sad example: Awhile ago everyone who worked with her was offered the chance to buy one of those tacky little jelly bracelets with inspiring messages on them (these particular ones were yellow and said, "courage"), and the money was going to go to the sick staff member. The clients closest to her received them, too. Anyway, this morningI was working with one client, let's call her Y., who had an especially close connection with the staff member. After helping her dress, I offered her the bracelet, and she said, "It doesn't matter anymore, because she's dead now."
Work is going to be hard for awhile.


I'm rusted and weathered/Barely holding together

My aunt Jan (aunt isn't capitalised because I've always just called her Jan) is dying of leukemia, and last week she took a very, very sudden turn for the worse. My mom and dad and siblings were planning to leave on Saturday and come back Tuesday (the kids wouldn't be missing school because of the President's Day weekend), but they left on Thursday instead, hoping to make it in time to say goodbye. Well, Jan's a tough old woman, and as far as I know she hasn't died yet, though by Thursday afternoon her kids were thinking it was over for good. Anyway, on Saturday I got a phone call just as I was getting ready to go out with Andrew for Valentine's. It's Dad, saying, "I have some bad news."
My mind jumps to the obvious, that Jan died. I say so, and Dad said no, though that's imminent. So I asked him what it was, and he said, "Mom's in the hospital."
O.O I start to freak out a little bit.
Apparently, she missed two steps on Saturday morning going down some stairs, landed wrong, and broke both ankles. One was a clean, simple break, but the other...she completely shattered her other ankle, so she had to go into surgery to have it fixed, and she was in so much pain and so nauseated from everything that she's been in the hospital since she fell. Which was Saturday, and today's Tuesday, and she's not getting discharged until tomorrow.
And like I said, I don't think Jan has died yet, which I find somehow ironic to the whole situation.
To make this increasingly long story short, this kind of thing does not happen infrequently. Not the falling-and-breaking-both-ankles bit, but the whole nasty accident/illness/etc/etc sort of thing happening to unpleasantly prolong a trip that was not made for pleasant reasons to begin with.
And you thought my bad luck was just me...


I'm starting to trip/I'm losing my grip

My parents and siblings left for N.D. on Thursday to visit a dying relative, leaving me with the dogs and the fish. And I somehow managed to kill off three of the fish. There were only four to begin with, but one has completely disappeared and two more are floating belly up with white eyes. Yes, I've been feeding them. I think it has something to do with the tank being full of snails. But don't quote me on that...

More later about other things.


I'm longing to be lost in you/Won't you take me away from me?

I haven't posted much, and for those of you online, I haven't been active online much either lately, because I've been sleeping a lot. I've been very tired for the past several weeks, and not getting enough sleep this past weekend (read: 5 or 6 hours of sleep instead of the usual 10+) has only compounded the issue. Part of it is, admittedly, my own fault--staying up too late reading; starting my nighttime reading at obscenely late hours; staying out with Andrew until said obscenely late hours; getting up early (relatively) and doing it all over again. Ok, so it's almost entirely my fault. I am, however, getting over a nasty cold that has been hard to sleep with, if you get my drift--coughing and sneezing fits, stuffy nose switching randomly to runny nose, etc. So that has a bit to do with it.
On the bright side, I filed my taxes today, and I'm actually getting most of the money back; the government is keeping a whopping $143. I can live with that. Mostly. *grin* I even know where the money will be going.

Some of it, at least, will be going towards pants. New pants. Nice new pants. My weight has finally stabilised (thank heavens for Phenergan) and I haven't shrunk a pant size since Christmas. Considering I went from a 14 to a 6 (or a four, in the case of Levi Strauss) during the interval of September through December, you'd think I'd have lost another size by now if something was going to change again. *crosses fingers*

Aaaaand...now I'm going back to bed.



Food allergies came back. Here's the list:
Cow's milk
Cottage cheese
Kidney bean
Pinto bean
Navy bean
Brewer's yeast
Psyllium seed
Brown rice
White pepper
Poppy seed
PLUS, I am very nearly allergic to the following:
Ricotta cheese
Safflower seed

My doctor, who I just saw (I'm assuming "who" is correct, but to be honest I don't care all that much at the moment), told me that it would really be best for my system to avoid not only the allergy foods as much as possible, but the near-allergy foods, too, in case too much exposure sends it over the edge into a full-blown allergy. I refuse, however, to cut out gluten. Sorry, but I like my wheat products and additives.


Of Governments and Cows

"Of Governments and Cows"

Biblical Capitalism: You have two cows. You take care of them and sell the extra milk.

Feudalism: Your lord lends you two cows. He takes most of the milk and leaves you some.

Pure Socialism: You have two cows. The government takes them and puts them into a barn with everyone else's cows. You have to take care of all the cows. The government gives you as much milk as you need.

Bureaucratic Socialism: You have two cows. The government takes them and puts them in a barn with everyone else's cows. They are cared for by ex-chicken farmers. You have to take care of the chickens the government took from the chicken farmers. The government gives you as much milk and eggs as the regulations say you need.

Fascism: You have two cows. The government takes them both, hires you to take care of them, and sells you the milk.

Pure Communism: You have two cows. Your neighbors help you to take care of them, and you all share the milk.

Russian Communism: You have two cows. You have to take care of them, but the government takes all the milk.

Cambodian Communism: You have two cows. The government takes them both and shoots you.

Dictatorship: You have two cows. The government takes them both and drafts you.

Pure Democracy: You have two cows. Your neighbors decide who gets the milk.

Representative Democracy: You have two cows. Your neighbors vote for someone to tell you who gets the milk.

American Democracy: The government promises to give you two cows if you vote for it. After the election, the President is impeached for speculating in cow futures. The press dubs the affair "Cowgate."

British Democracy: You have two cows. You feed them sheep brains and they go mad. The government doesn't do anything.

Bureaucracy: You have two cows. At first the government regulates what you can feed them and when you can milk them. Then it pays you not to milk them. Then it takes both, shoots one, milks the other and pours the milk down the drain. Then it requires you to fill out forms accounting for the missing cows.

Environmentalism: You have two cows. The government bans you from milking or killing them.

Pure Anarchy: You have two cows. Your neighbors riot and kill you for trying to sell the milk.

Capitalism: You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull.

Clintonomics: You have two cows. The government requires you to take harmonica lessons.

Totalitarianism: You have two cows. The government takes them and denies they ever existed. Milk is banned.

Counter-Culture: Wow, dude, there's like... These two cows, man. You got to have some of this milk.

Feminism: You have two cows. They get married and adopt a veal calf.

Political Correctness: You are associated with (the concept of "ownership" is a symbol of the phallo-centric, war-mongering, intolerant past) two differently aged (but no less valuable to society) bovines of non-specified gender.


And you're laying on the ground/All messy and dead

Soooo....yesterday Andrew and I went out to eat and we ran into this girl who's been after Andrew since the dawn of time--no, not the Slut from New Year's, this is a different girl. Long complicated backstory which NO I will not share, even if you ask. Thellie knows, but I doubt she'd tell you either. Anyway, the girl in question was giving me death glares every time she looked at me; it was all I could do not to snuggle up to Andrew even more. She picked up this weird-ass "musician" type on Tuesday, I think solely to try to make Andrew jealous...trust me, people, it's not working. If the guy will have her, more power to them both. She's called him twice since yesterday, asking him what he "thinks of Guy." I'm actually rather proud of Andrew for not pointing out the fact that he's kind of a greasy unwashed (redundancy alert, I know) creepyish (just creepyish, not full-blown creepy) OLD guy. Who apparently still lives with his mother, but he's ALMOST 50. *shudder* He reminds me of Jarvis, just less icky. Granted, that's not saying a whole lot, but still...
All right, I'm off to work in a little bit. Just wanted to update you on the pseudodrama that my life has become.


All I know is/You give me something to dream to

I've been spending a whole lot of time with The Boy lately, and I've yet to grow sick of his presence. This is a fairly good indicator that I won't, in fact, grow sick of him. I do rather hope that to be the case.
With each day that goes by I hate my job more and more, but I haven't exactly had much opportunity to look for a new one, considering that I'm always at work. Grr. Andrew's holding my sanity together. I'm starting to feel a bit bad for asking so much of him, not just time and energy, but support in all forms, as well. I know he gives it willingly, that I don't really even need to ask, but...I've always been so independent that relying on someone, anyone, is hard.
Friday morning I got a phone call from the Mankato Clinic, calling to confirm an appointment with Dr. So-and-So for Monday. I was like, uh, what? I've never heard of this doctor, let alone made an appointment with them. Turns out my primary care guy had made an appointment for me...at a time while I'd be at work, so I rescheduled. Not even knowing what kind of doctor it was for. Turns out, it's for a neurologist. For my headaches. Which are getting worse again. Don't tell Andrew, he doesn't know. He won't be happy, either, but...I suppose I ought to tell him before I start collapsing again. Which, at the rate things are going, should be in a month or two. Which is bad, because my now-rescheduled appointment with the neurologist isn't until mid-March. Grr.
I need to clean out the fridge today, and do dishes. Icky. I'm not particularly looking forward to doing either of them, but my family has been gone since last Tuesday and I haven't really done much housework since then except run a load of dishes through the wash. There are lots of leftovers that need to be dealt with, and all the pots and pans. Hm. Maybe I can enlist Andrew to help...

And now I'm off to work. Again. Grr.


Dare me to leave you/Tell me I'd never forget

Sorry it's been so long, but things have been crazy-busy here. Since the weather got crappy, I've been having to stay at work longer, which means less sleep and less time to do other things. The day program the clients go to was two hours late again today, for what would be like the fourth day in a row except that Monday was cancelled altogether and they had the weekend. But my boss went around asking people to stay and I told her I'd be staying and she said no, you can go home on time because you've been helping out so much, blah blah blah. I didn't argue, I wanted to go home.
Things are getting serious with The Boy. Normally I'd be scared out of my wits (what few I have) at the prospect of things going, you know, there, but in this case, for whatever reason, it doesn't scare me. He's the first relationship I've had no doubts about, ever. Things fit in a way I never thought they could, or would. It's bizarre and wonderful and should be terrifying but isn't. My mind is going places....yeah, I'll stop there. All I can say is on the off chance this ends, it's going to be the gold standard to which I will hold any and all other relationships from here on out. I've never been treated so well so consistently before, or....ok, now I'm going off and rambling about things you probably don't want to hear about.
Not much else to say, though, so I might as well get going. Later, all!


This can't be love/Because I feel so well

So before I move on to the main substance of the post, I have a story to tell. I was in a car accident today, kind of. Don't panic, I'm fine, the Joj is fine, the car is fine (mostly). No worries at this point. I think. Basically when I was trying to turn the car decided it would neither slow down nor turn, so I went straight into a traffic island thingy in the road. I went up over the snow and ice, but I got back off just fine, no worries at that point either. I get into the parking lot I was originally aiming for, and check the car over for damages. I see no dents, no scrapes, and nothing hanging down from underneath the car. Again, no worries. Until I get back in the car, and smell gas. Lots of it. But I made it home just fine, and told Dad, and he wasn't too terribly worried about it either. So, no biggie. He'll get whatever's wrong with it (if there's anything actually wrong with it) fixed and all will be well. Hopefully before Monday because I work and Mom works and the kids go back to school and I think that's the day when Sam goes back to TX. Speaking of Sam, we haven't fought once yet, which surprises me. Granted, we haven't exchanged more than about seven words at a time, either. Can I have a boo-yah for the uneasy truce?

On to the substance of the post. This one will actually be a bit tricky, because the Blogger format vs. the LJ format is slightly different and therefore requires more maneuvering of HTML and links and whatnot, but here's a brave effort presented by yours truly, of me and Andrew from New Years. And yes, I had tarted myself up a bit there, but I figure I dress like a convent teacher the rest of the year, why not have a little fun one night a year? So, here's me and Andrew #1. Quick aside: my hair has grown long again, so I'm getting another two inches hacked off the back and an inch off the front when I get round to it.
Yes, that's a tattoo on his arm. He has 3 of them.

All right, on to Me and Andrew #2:

I thought the above was a sweet picture. And the mark on his cheek? Not from me, actually. It's a scar from his childhood. Cooler thing yet? He's got another scar on the other side of his face, going down from his eyebrow past the corner of his eye onto his cheek, just like you read about it books. My only complaint is that it's not terribly prominent.

All right, Me and Andrew #3:

He's such a dork sometimes...but his obvious pride in being with me just...I don't know, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Last one, #4:

Aaaaand I think this one speaks for itsel


What I've felt, what I've known/Never shined through in what I've shown

So apparently I have this bad habit-slash-problem of not actually showing my emotions on my face or through my body language unless they're on the intense side. This is, in fact, a problem because my default stance is once of "F*** with me and I'll rip your face off." More or less, anyway, according to various friends. The whole visibly conveying emotions thing is rather more of a struggle than I thought it would be, but I'm getting there. Apparently on New Year's Eve I successfully conveyed "I am approachable and friendly", though Lord only knows how hard it was to do, to constantly monitor my body language and facial expressions and control even the subtlest movements therein in an effort to avoid the scary-Winter bit. Oh, and I just totally avoided the one chick who was all about Andrew, because if I'd ever looked her square in the eye she would have seen the challenge in it. It's funny...everybody there was convinced the girl could take me in a fight because she used to ride bulls or some such; everybody except Andrew, that is. I outweigh the girl by about ten pounds and have a good four-inch reach on her, plus I know how to hit people so they don't get back up. But as I was a guest in her home, I felt it best not to set anybody off in that direction.
Oh! And Thellie, next time I talk to you online or on the phone or whatever, ask me about Stacy. You'll love this, trust me. It's funnier than bunny grenades.


Even the man in the moon disappears/Somewhere in the stratosphere

So New Years with friends was good. Very interesting. This one girl was shooting daggers at me the whole time, because apparently she had designs on Andrew and he conveyed to her in no uncertain terms that he wasn't interested, and never really was--especially since not only is the girl in question married, but her husband was there. *does the awkward turtle* Apparently that's just what she's like, and that really just kinda sorta appalls me to no end. Ugh.
There's a really nifty poster up on the Coraline movie website--didn't I tell you? Neil Gaiman's Coraline has been made into a movie by Henry Selick, who's the guy who did Nightmare Before Christmas. It's just an old-fashioned advert, featuring buttons. If you've read the book, you'll understand why it's so freaking cool.
I've got some pictures from New Year's, of me and Andrew. They're really adorable and I actually look good. OK, technically they're on Andrew's camera and computer, but once I get my hands on them they will be transferred over to the public domain, i.e. my Facebook and my blog. Actually, there's one that he took of just me that turned out marvelously well, and I think I'll post that as my profile photo on my Facebook.
That's all for now, toodles!
p.s. I love Hock! He's amazing.