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Nope! Nuh-uh! Eh-eh! [Nov. 30th, 2009|06:49 am]
[Tags|, , , ]
[Current Location |Work]
[Listening to |Err'clear]

It's been a long weekend, very long. Mine was average...better thAn working i guess. Sad to see it ggo. FUCK i hate the ipod keyboaerd.

I sort of want nothiong right now. Not in the mAterial sense but in an utter nothingmness kind of way. Sleep for 72 hours. No food, no smokes, no media, no people. No thanks to all of the above. Leave me alone to hibernate. I did read a book this weekwnd. One teeny book. First one in a while

No, no, no, nothing's worth typing even. Rrrrrr.
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Contacts / "Viral Videos: A generation's pasttime effecting the children of tomorrow" (By S.R.B.) [Nov. 25th, 2009|10:02 am]
Given the fact that every time I go to buy new prescription glasses, I am incapable of picking a pair out of utter disgust...I got some contact lenses!

Everyone tells me how be-yoo-tiful my eyes are. Being uncomfortable with compliments, I mutter my thanks and run away. I only got the damn things because the pool of acceptable eyewear is so terribly lacking....and so I can wear sunglasses. And, oh-my-god, I am so excited about sunglasses.

Sunglasses are not inherently exciting, but for someone who has worn glasses most of their life (and never the prescription sunglass type,) sunglasses are a big deal. Before today, it was either a) look awesome, not have sun in your eyes and be COMPLETELY BLIND or b) not wear sunglasses and be able to see further than 1 foot.

So it is a very exciting time for me, vision-wise. I won't lie, however: I haven't quite got used to the contacts yet, and my eyes are watering and blinking excessively in attempt to be free of them.

Lately I've been wondering what keeping this journal for however-many years will mean to my future. Will my children read it? Will historians read it 200 years from now and try to learn about this time period through it? (Oh, come on, give me a break; I'm trying really hard not to limit my creative process by telling myself this journal is not important enough for that.)
Similarly, and on a wider scale: what will video blogging and the rise of YouTube mean for the next generation? They will have all this video evidence of their parents, young and starry-eyed, and putting their cat in a sweater or whatever the hell the latest YouTube viral video is.

Our generation only has oddly-colored photos and grainy video of our parents' generation as kids and young adults. Have you ever seen pictures of your parents as teenagers? It's very strange, and exciting, like you're looking into the secret, long-forgotten history of someone you know well but obviously not that well. I've seen maybe five of my dad and only two of my mother. None of the pictures really demonstrates what they were like. But a video...

Will our kids know us, feel better-connected to us after watching our YouTube droppings of old? Will our teenage videos undermine our adult superiority, make our kids less obedient to us? I read once that there comes a time in adolescence when the child realizes their parent is not a God, that the parent has human flaws, etc. Will the prevalence of digital recordings now, how will this effect how our children see us?

...and why do I feel like I just wrote a research paper.
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Love Song for the Kids - Chloe, featuring Anna - NSFW [Nov. 23rd, 2009|01:53 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Mood | blah]
[Listening to |See entry]

Lyrics are important to any song...these were written by my dearest friend, "Alabaster Disaster" and featuring my sister. The song is actually good enough that I listen to it right along with the rest of my playlist. HERE ARE THE LYRICS which demonstrate the creative spirit and intelligence of its artists:
( I thought about it and put it behind a cut so as not to offend anyones sensitivities....feels kind of like I sold out, though... )

Look for it soon on Ain't Never Being Released Records. To actually hear it and all of its amazingness, (Yes! You can actually subject yourself to this!) go to http://www.myspace.com/annabrewplusnoise and click on it.

I'll stop making posts soon, I swear

:D <333 f.u.
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...if only to bump the woman-ass off the top of my page [Nov. 23rd, 2009|11:21 am]
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My phone was dead for a week. Loved it. I wish we as a culture could ditch mobile communication...would be bad for business and commerce, but good for a heck of a lot of other things.

This post is about cars, really. (Unexpected, I realize.) Bastards. Wish we could ditch them, too. Well...not really, but yeah. ( Cars messing with my plans, being the expendable friend, and dreams of foreign places with beautiful women )

( ...rambling about the movies I watched this weekend, yeah, interesting, I know...also, my thoughts on Invader Zim and my growing interest in westerns... )
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Trigun, Beeball, Cosplay, Dentistry [Nov. 19th, 2009|06:33 pm]
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Pardon the woman-ass first thing on my entry. I was just demonstrating the cool new thing I've bought (they will surely look exactly the same on me.) Actually, it's part of the Vash cosplay. Yeah. Getting THAT detailed. Not to mention, $$9 + SH is a lot to spend on something you're only gonna MAYBE see 1/8 of.

I think my first "actual sewing" will be the chaps...I figure, get all the little things out of the way first, then spend a straight weekend sweating over the red coat. Truth is I'm obsessed with whatever it is he's wearing under the coat. There are about 2 images, total, of the "under armor" and I want to make it soooo baaaad.

[info]sing1118 put me on to Angel/Danny slash (Hot Fuzz) wtf? Must investigate further.

Oh yeah the real world: I saw the Wizards beat the Cavaliers last night, but I couldn't tell you the final score or any specifics of the game (I was mistakenly cheering for the Cavs by the fourth quarter...let's just say there was beer involved.) Also, in celebration of her birthday, [info]sing1118 intends to make use of the tooth fairy.

On account of it is six-thirty now and I only got five hours of sleep last night....early bed. Tomorrow's Friday and maybe I can keep things low-key this weekend.

...probably not.
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Another entry just exactly like many before it [Nov. 18th, 2009|12:41 pm]
My day just got a lot more interesting than I expected...I FORGOT ABOUT THE BBALL GAME TONIGHT. WTF. It's only been staring at me from the calendar across my desk for, what, a month?

Luckily due to [info]sing1118's proximity to my place of business, my completely open evening schedule, and the fact that I still have a change of clothes in my car from the last party I went to, a surprise rockin' evening out watching cheerleaders a basketball game is absolutely fine by me.

...Wish I had my favorite Wodehouse with me. I want to quote Psmith....it was something along the lines of "I will never understand the habit of young women to work while unsupervised." Made me laugh so hard when I read it: what an interesting stereotype to make, and then: boy, do I ever fit it. Oh, I bring it up because--though I'm not exactly getting shit done at the moment--I am alone at the office for the time being and all I can think is "What else should I get done?"

I think it's high time for a Doctor Who-a-thon, I've been Trigunning for about 2.5 months now. Any day I'll get the final volume from Amazon.com, read how it ends, and be able to put that obsession to rest (for the next six months at least.) Then: Whotime.
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Haircut [Nov. 17th, 2009|05:54 pm]
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[Current Location |woik]

At work today all the construction workers saw me and their faces fell like, erm, my skill at making similes. Even if I'm not the slightest bit interested in garnering their affections, it still kind of hurt my feelings.

Edgar: "Why you cut your hair?!"
Me: (not looking up) "I have cancer."
Edgar: "Why?!"

The oddest response to "I have cancer" you'll ever hear...communication is awesome funny. (Casual readers: I don't have cancer, but I have a permit that says I can make fun of it.)

Even my auntboss seemed a little credulous...uncle seemed cool about it ("You still have more hair than me!") I don't rely on their opinion of my looks, but I wish they could be as content with my spontaneous hairdump as I am. Despite my day at work....this haircut makes me feel cool as shit.

11-18-09 edit: inappropriate use of office supplies: camera edition
pardon the quality/photographic skill, I was rushed





Yes, that clock says 6:40 AM.
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Enough of this EMO bullshit. *sigh.* [Nov. 16th, 2009|03:03 pm]
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.............*sigh.*

Tonight I think I'll buzz most of my hair off. I'm not even pained about the $40 haircut I just got....I must create some kind of dramatic change in myself and fast. For some reason haircut = emotional release. It'll be like a sacrifice to something or other...will decide what/who later. Satan? Thor? Stephen Fry? will consider. If this doesn't work, there's the tattoo idea I've been throwing around.

Oh - speaking of that. About 6 mos ago I was going to get a tattoo, and what I wanted to get is no longer relevant! Thinking it over, I decided that I would totally be able to live with it (had I gotten it,) and it would still have held SOME significant meaning (a permanent testament to emotional pain) but what I thought was a hardcore deep-as-shit symbol for forever was passe in less than a year. Just goes to show you that you need to be careful what you pick.

("New Tattoo Idea" is emotionally, to me, the same as the "Mom" in a heart with an arrow - though by looking at it you'd never make that connection - and it's not like I'll be over my Mom in 6 months, so I don't need to worry about it getting old. The only question is where to put it. I want it to match with my sister, so we have to make a sibling compromise. Ugh.)

What other drastic changes can I make in attempt to put some meaning into my life? Join a law enforcement agency? Work at a dude ranch? Fear of academy failure makes me hesitant about the first and lack of knowing any dude ranches makes me hesitant about the latter. I'll keep them in mind, though.

There's this guy who works in the warehouse, and he speaks about six words in English, and I speak about six words in Spanish, so when we talk we both just kind of speak in our own languages and hope for the best.
"Where is the material for this one?"
"¿Éste? Hice ya la puerta."
"La puerta? You already made the gate?"
"Sí, sí, allá. Hecho todo."
"Is there anything else besides the gate?"
"Puse todo allá. Para mañana."
"Mañana? Oh - no. Not por mañana. For, uh, next week...er, for later."
"Ah...Si..."
"Good. Good. Okay."
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This life thing [Nov. 15th, 2009|12:14 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |Kitchen.]
[Listening to |Wolf Parade]

I'm surviving, not living.

I think I was alive in college, and then in Boston, because the high were so high and the lows were so low, and I remember feeling everything very intensely. Each day was different and the memories of everything that happened are very clear.

The past two years are all jumbled up. I remember things being slightly different when I had my last job compared to now, but it was only slightly different. This house doesn't change, the characters haven't changed, nothing is standing out. Nothing is shining brightly. In thirty years I won't remember this period of my life very well, if at all.

I am only floating, and you make me miserable with jealousy and resent. You. I read about you moving forward, touching the stars or at least taking the first steps to that end. Finding love. Exploring a new country. Improving yourself. Discovering amazing people with amazing skills, like your own.

I feel that I am failing, though I'm not sure what class I'm in. It is as if everybody else got the memo about how to do this "life" thing, and I didn't. Not only won't you tell me what I'm missing, you don't even know how to say it. It comes so easily to you that you don't know how to put it into words, and it is so foreign to me I wouldn't recognize the secret if my head were bashed in with it.

Every day I do as I'm told just a little bit more, follow the suggestions of others more frequently. I lose a bit of myself; I don't trust any of them entirely, but I have no ideas of my own, and maybe following their lead will set me right. Take vitamins. Exercise. Look at jobs in the _____ industry. Take a class on _____. Tell me what to do and I'll just do it, because I haven't got anything better.

It gets worse. "Be my friend." Yes, I'll be your friend. I'll be your friend because you're the only person who's said that to me in over a year.

"Go to this party with us." I'm so flattered. This place is a mess, and these children are completely stupid. I listen to the boys relate their black-n-white opinions of gays and non-whites and am glad to be somewhere other than my parent's house on a Saturday night.

Mandy S. is right - I need something to live for.

Please tell me what to live for.
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Percieved self v. Actual self = Gender anxiety? Or something? [Nov. 13th, 2009|02:49 pm]
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If you have never met me -- only read my blog and etc -- I think you'd be surprised if you did.

Squeaking a pathetic greeting to a co-worker yesterday morning, I began thinking about how I act in relation to how I think and feel most of the time. I startled myself.

Really what was going through my mind is "I hate living the lie," which basically is that I'm a quiet librarian-type hetero girly girl. When I greet the workers in the morning, I really honestly do wish them a good day and feel genial about seeing their smiling, hardworking faces - but the squeaks and smiles that come out of me really aren't ME. They're library girl.

I suppose I am quiet. Not in my head, though! In my head it's like standing in the middle of a freeway - cars zipping past at remarkable, dangerous speeds (I flatter myself) and no idea what's going on or where I'm supposed to step next. I'm quiet because I'm processing. Can't talk and think at the same time.

Politeness. Doormattery. These are things I project in the 'real' world. I'm proud to be polite. I'd rather have someone's shoe on my face than start a fuss. But the curses and evil thoughts in my head just don't match library-girl. Yesterday I spoke to this awful guy on the phone, another contractor who was sending a client he couldn't help over to us. "So, you have a job for me?" I said dumbly. "Heh heh," he said, "Yeah, I have a job for you - also some fence work." It sort of blew my mind.

There's feminist outrage, of course, somewhere inside me, all the time, but only after I overthink things. At that moment I just sort of felt...confused. "Did he really say that?" The only way I can think to put it is, imagine a straight man getting this from the same lewd guy. (Apologies for any stereotyping.) The response isn't particularly disgust, it isn't hanging up the phone or yelling at him, it's just, "....Uhhhh.....what?.....I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that....maybe I can stay sane."

Anyway, that's just part of it, the gender ambiguity. I feel I am so vulgar and devil-may-care and lazy that my office persona is simply too inaccurate and I am living a lie.

Then the question is: isn't polite and businesslike and quiet and non-vulgar GOOD for any office person? Shouldn't we all be like this? If I acted vulgar and devil-may-care and lazy at work....I'd be FIRED. Duh.

Nothing makes me wish I could be a man like working in an office. Wear a tie to work. Shiny black shoes. (Would rarely get inappropriate calls from Mr. Lewd Guy. Unless I were a particularly attractive man?) I'd meet my bros for beers after work and when it came down to "talking shop," I'd listen to the guys' stories, fake laughter at the appropriate places, and then make ironic, awkward comments that were only funny to myself, and the boys would stare at me and think I was insane, immasculine, or possibly gay. And then inch away from me.

Ahh, I can only dream.

How did it get back to gender? I must be having a very transgender day. Some days it's worse than others.

Anyway, bringing it full circle: I don't much act the way I feel, or the way I describe myself. You may have a mental image of this terribly foul-mouthed, half-ghetto, chain-smoking, annoying rambling prat of a dyke, but if you ever actually dealt with office library girl you'd be suprised. The big question is: how do I get enough of my real self into my professional persona without losing my job...or getting beaten up by homophobic construction workers?

...The end.
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Memph-venture: OBHR to Amanda [Nov. 12th, 2009|08:56 am]

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In unrelated news, apple juice = not my friend. Betrayed me like all the others.

Maybe I'll try NaNo. I could get to 10,000 words if I wrote 527 words per day. I'm just not sure if I have 10,000 FICTIONAL, NON-EGOCENTRIC words in me right now.
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Today's Egomaniacal Spouting: [Nov. 11th, 2009|05:18 pm]
No comment.
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Funny thing about "NaNo"... it means "rill small" [Nov. 10th, 2009|02:03 pm]
.....the Trigun fandom is in bad, bad shape. *browses fan sites* oi vey. Well, this means my fanfic will be the best. Yeaah, suck it.

...Now: what to write about?....I should finish reading the canon first, I suppose....eh, you know, it is a comic book, and a translation, and it's sort of dual-canon because of the television show....I don't care. It's not easy but I want to do it. Too bad nobody but me and two other people will give a shit either way :)

What I really want to do with it is a DocWho crossover....I cross Who with everything in my mind (it's so crossoverable...like the X-Files...) but I'm really shy to write Who fanfic since I'm the least British person in the universe, and I would want a Trigun crossover (which would be read, I presume, by people more familliar with Who than with Trigun) to be done as well as possible to try to "sell" people on Trigun, my baby. So the task is kind of daunting but it should be fun.

...
What the hell do you mean it's two weeks into NaNoWriMo? Fuck, I miss it every year!
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O Yay! It's like I'm nine again! [Nov. 9th, 2009|06:10 pm]
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Doooooi....Hi, I'm Brewer and I get yelled at because

1) People think baseball is more important than new episodes of House MD
2) DirecTV is retarded
3) Verizon internet service is a total rip-off.

I don't see how I caused any of these things.

To string it together: I bit the bullet and sat down with the elusive household internet card, which I have to share with my pop (AKA Techno Man - "Ooh! I have to do work! On the internet! For work! No that's not a boating web site!") so I could watch the episode of House that got preempted by the world series a few Mondays back. DirecTV was set to record it, but actually it was just set to record on Fox between 8 and 9....forty-five minutes of which involved some primitive ball-whacking sport and NOT House. ANYWAY...

I'm not a fan of watching things online, partially because the screen is tiny, partially because the quality is invariably bad, and partially because even though we have a card, we're still crawling through the 20th century out here in the boonies and our internet service is always slow to play TV shows. I'd rather wait months and months to buy things on DVD than watch with an overheating laptop burning my thighs.

BUUUUT House is on tonight, and I don't want to miss any more of it, and there was a link telling me I could catch up on that ONE EPISODE I missed...and there I was enjoying House on the interweb.

Then there I was getting yelled at for watching House on the interweb. What the fuck? 

Apparently Verizon, mastermind behind the "internet card" scheme, charges people extravagantly for watching more than 30 minutes of video while online. At least, this is what was yelled to me (and what I retained after the emotional trauma.) I don't quite understand A) how Verizon knows I'm watching video or B) how they define "30 minutes" (can I pause the video after 30 minutes, disconnect the card, reconnect the card, and watch for another 30 minutes without interruption?) C) how Verizon thinks they can make any money in TODAY's media obsessed Veoh-Youtube-Hulu-linktv-watching world if their internet service blows your brains out financially, and D) WHY ANY OF THIS IS MY FAULT AND I'M GETTING YELLED AT.

( Weh weh weh my life sucks soooo baaaaad I got a lecture weh weh weh )

Anyway, time to take a look at the true culprit, here. Lately I've played a lot of Mafia Wars on the Facebook. (I know, I know.) Now that I am, in many ways, a mobster, I would like to go ahead and tell the world that there is now a hit out on this man:



Bring me the head of Verizon man. Or at least his tight Dickies blazer. He won't be hearing anything when he's sleeping with the fishes.



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Do do do do DO do [Nov. 8th, 2009|02:52 pm]
I've wanted to own the entire X-Files series since I was 13. For years I have convinced myself that I will buy it when the price goes down. When the show was first released on DVD, each season cost about $100. "Too much," said I, and I have waited.

And waited.

I still owe my 13-year-old self a chunk of X-Files DVDs, and I do not intend to cheat that sci-fi-lovin' kid out of its very favorite TV show of all time.

But I was thirteen ten years ago. I am still waiting to buy it - "When the price goes down." The question is: when the hell will the price go down?! It's still just under $300. This consumer believes the entire 9 season run shouldn't cost more than $100 seven years after the show ended. 

..Just goes to show you how COMPLETELY TOTALLY AWESOME the X-Files is.

I would like to apologize to David Duchovny because I absolutely cannot watch Californication. Duchovny was very very pretty in the early nineties, it's true, but I loved Fox Mulder, not that poorly-aging jackass sex addict, and I can't watch him romp around in a role that is a little too similar to his actual self for him to really be "acting." 

I'm in Panera Bread. Next to me is a tableful of screaming middle-school aged girls in some kind of sports uniform. It's very peaceful. For a while I was browsing the Boston Craigslist - they have jobs up there and they have affordable apartments up there. What's up with that? There's absolutely nothing in DC. Also, I don't like DC. Strangely enough, there were apartments available at Commonwealth and Washington streets in Brighton, which is exactly where I lived before. Rent is also a bit cheaper than I remember, but we were getting ripped off badly with our apartment.

I figure: Me, Becca, my sister... that's three people. It's just a dream, living independently in a foreign city...but I could use the cool shock of reality in the financial department about now. I spend everything I make (luckily not MORE than I make, and I have a decent cushion in the bank,) and can't figure out how to STOP. Necessity would help.

Still thinking about how to get going on a writing career. Any suggestions from the peanut gallery would be appreciated.

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Look how artsy I am, posting poetry [Nov. 8th, 2009|01:58 pm]
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[Current Location |Panera]

The Haunted Palace - Edgar Allan Poe

IN the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace--
Radiant palace--raised its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow
(This--all this--was in the olden
Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied
In that sweet day,
Upon the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.
Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute's well-timed law.
Round about a throne where, sitting,
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace-door,
Through which came, flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling everymore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing
In voices of surpassing beauty
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn--for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate!)
And round about his house of glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
And travelers, now, within that valley
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly, rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh--but smile no more.

 

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Should try having these pronoun-less thoughts when in better mental state. [Nov. 7th, 2009|11:08 pm]
I'm considering turning this blog into part of my portfolio, to use for finding jobs and whatnot. It would involve friends-locking most of the entries, and a lot of backtracking to correct grammar and spelling and stupidity. It's just a thought at this point.

See, I understand that one of my few skills is putting words in cohesive order. Every career option presented to me looks completely awful. However, possibly I could enjoy a career involving writing. Since it's the only good idea I have, I ought to try and do SOMETHING to try and move forward on this. I have no portfolio to speak of, and I have to start somewhere.

...On another note: I am so drunk right now.

Ta
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...Welcome to your regularly-scheduled ellipsis-fest... [Nov. 6th, 2009|02:48 pm]
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[Listening to |Andrew WK - Ready To Die]

What a dismal evening I had yesterday...Parents taking turns giving me unwanted advice...nothing on TV, my computer wasn't working so no internet, I'm out of anime to read and anything more complicated than that required too much brain power...ended up watching Cops and Third Rock, because nothing was really worth doing. This is the same reason I cleaned the house Wednesday after work...couldn't think of anything actually enjoyable to do in my free time, so I just filled it up with chores.

Hours past. I got older. A little more of my life was whittled away, and suddenly I was driving 60 MPH at 5:45 in the morning, speeding off to a new day full of toil and boredness. Now the work day's almost over and...am I excited for the weekend? No. Am I excited for horse-riding? No. Am I excited about the half bottle of Jager in the freezer? No. Am I thinking of a disguise to wear as I sneak into the movie theater unnoticed? No. (Well...now I am.)

I think I know why I'm all depressed...I spent a LOT of energy yesterday being excited about going to Memphis, and now it's set in that I won't be going or even seeing all these friends for another month. What am I supposed to do until then? Nothing here is as exciting or awesome or perfect as the road trip (or the "Memph-venture" from here on) will be. The alcohol doesn't taste as good as it will on the Memph-venture. Music will be louder and more fantastic on the Memph-venture. Life will come at me in bolder, more stylish colors, and slightly too-well in focus (so as to give one a headache.)

So....I don't know what I'll be doing this weekend. But whatever I end up doing is going to totally suck compared to Memph-venture.
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ROOOOAAAAD TRIIIIIIIP! [Nov. 5th, 2009|08:00 am]
This December, I'm going to squeeze myself, three others, all our shit, and then a fourth other and even more shit, into my tiny-ass many-miled two-door pseudo-sports vehicle and drive to Memphis and back for twenty or however many hours. Why is this amazing? Because we're BFFS and we obviously want to hate each other for a change.

We're rescuing Amanda from Memphis! Seeing Memphis in the meantime! It will be our first real road trip. Personally, I want to go to Elvis's house. Hopefully there will be a hilbilly museum and a gator farm, too. All I really remember about Tennessee is how breathtakingly beautiful it was there....then again, that was Knoxville. From Amanda's description, Memphis is the definition of sketch and drunken delinquince. My mental visual is somewhere between Pleasure Island in Pinnochio and a Louisianna Mardi Gras carnival.

Anyway, the trip. The down side, of course, is that we're taking *MY* car. Even if we can deal with being squished together for hours on end, I think there's just too much luggage.

We could suck it up and use a parent's car...but...who knows what kind of hijincks we'll be getting up to. I want to leave parents out of this. WHY DID AUDREY'S SUV HAVE TO BREAK?
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Mean. Snarky. [Nov. 4th, 2009|11:35 am]
[Tags|]
[Current Mood | mean]

I feel snarky and mean today. Trying to keep it in.


Because I like to try to rationalize moods and behaviors:

...It's the new hair...?
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Konnichiwa? [Nov. 4th, 2009|06:42 am]
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American Express won't give me a credit card. My feelings are a little bruised. They decided quite quickly. Oh well - I'll figure it out.

Yesterday I set up a hair appointment and realized how horrified my stylist was going to be seeing me with my bad bleach job and grown-out roots, so I grabbed some brown dye and now I have nice chocolate-colored hair. After a month of being startled by blonde hair in the mirror, now I'm startled by brown. I'm sure she'll look at the bad dye job and be horrified, too - but probably less horrified. Really, I just didn't want to pay for getting my hair colored. It's enough spending $40 on a cut.

Actually I learned my stylist "specializes" in anime haircuts for conventions and cosplay, which was very surprising, and I'm going to quiz her on it to see if it's true. That's a good asset. I wish I could, I don't know, flat-iron my own hair...you can't have everything.

Seriously thinking about visiting Megan in Japan. Looks like a round-trip ticket would be in the area of $1000, which is a little steep for me. Still, Japan is one of those places in the world I've dreamed of visiting (screw Paris,) and I could check it off the life-list. I know a total of six words/phrases in Japanese, including "what is that?" and  "but..." neither of which are very helpful in bare-minimum survival conversation. Always time to learn, I guess, but the language is so different from Western languages that I doubt I could pick up very much in two or three months. I love pronouncing Japanese words, though, even if I don't know what they mean.

Still once I watched an un-subbed anime in Japanese while Megan translated it sitting next to me. I'm sure I could get by. Learn how to say "PLEASE EXCUSE ME BUT DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH" and try for the best :)
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What, oh, wait, Boo, Brr [Nov. 3rd, 2009|06:43 am]
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[Listening to |Silversun Pickups - Lazy Eye]

No, didn't die in horrible mass slaughter this halloween. Anna was "The Girl Who Dies First." I was a biker chick (...? I know. It just happened. Wish I had photos.) Stefano was a fairy princess (extra glitter.) We ate so much candy we spent all of Sunday on the couch watching TV.

Not much else has happened...I'm liking the time change, actually. Didn't realize I was gaining an hour of sleep. Somebody could have mentioned that. It is so ridiculous that we have "TIME" as this huge constant in our society, and the world runs off the clock, and twice a year we just change it and everybody accepts this as a given. If time is so bloody important, why does nobody freak the fuck out when it changes completely? Obviously, I freaked out. Ugh.

Ok, bring on the winter. Already I'm suffering huge office-freeze. That is when I am the coldest person in my office and there is nothing I can do about it but wear a parka or risk melting everyone with my personal space heater.
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Caprice / Suck it, social normality [Oct. 30th, 2009|11:43 am]
I think most normal people have no problem reaching out and sharing conversation with strangers - in line at the gas station, in a waiting room, etc. At least, sometimes. If something funny happens, or whatever. I NEVER feel that way! I never want to talk to anyone, though I admit it's kind of cool when a stranger tells me my t-shirt is awesome because it says "Hellboy" or has the Stones logo. That's always neat...anyway what I'm saying is, I would have to be really, really compelled to say it to someone else.

Well, it happened yesterday. I was at the doctor's with my mother, (she likes to go to appointments with us. She was set to go to Anna's appointment today, too.) and looking at the plaque on the wall I saw that my doctor's first name was "Ash." Ash? Like Bruce Campbell in Evil Dead, which I JUST WATCHED the night before? The totally badass crazy-faced chainsaw-armed supernatural-fighting hero?

So that rare thing happened: taking a chance, I decided to reach out.

"Your first name's Ash?" I squeaked.

"Yes," he smiled.

"That's cool, that's like...Ash...in the Evil Dead movies. Umm..." *noticing lack of response* "...the...he's the hero, he...fights...zombies..."

The Doctor stared. "Hmm, Is that a Pokemon thing?" he finally ventured.

"Uh, no," I stammered, "Just a cult...horror...flick...er, never mind."

"At least you're the hero!" My mom told him all chummy-like, and I wanted to kill her.

Leaving the office, I sighed to my mom. "Every time," I said, "every time I try to reach out to another human being with casual conversation, it always ends in gigantic social!fail."

"Not everyone knows horror movies made in the seventies," she pointed out, "And the poor thing's been in medical school for years, probably doesn't know much pop culture. You like weird stuff. Try starting conversations that don't refer to weird movies." Yeah, but what would be interesting about a conversation like that?

As I drove home alone, contemplating chance encounters, conversations, and how bad I was at initiating them, I had a thought.

Hours later, I met up with my broke-ass little sister.

"Hey, broke-ass little sister," I said. "I just learned....our doctor? His name is Ash. Like in Evil Dead."

"Ooh," she said.

"I'll give you ten dollars if you mention it to him during your appointment tomorrow."

When life gives you awkward....give some awkward back. That's what I say.


(....Happy to report that the giant simultaneous prank on
a) My mother
b) My sister
c) My doctor
went down swimmingly.)

...I guess the doc didn't really deserve it. Still, I see it this way: maybe now he will be compelled to watch a great cult movie.

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Halloweeeeeeen! Part Deux [Oct. 29th, 2009|01:57 pm]
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...aaaand we have candy at our house. Halloween candy is sort of a big deal on OBHR. Basically, it's "get the biggest serving bowl possible, fill with candy, enjoy." I towed a dumptruck full of candy home last night and went ballistic looking for the 18" diameter Halloween candy bowl ("HOW CAN YOU LOSE SOMETHING THAT BIG??!!" [Turns out it was in the yard.]) This morning all the Baby Ruths were gone. WTF? I advised the family that if they wanted candy BEFORE Halloween, they'd better contribute to the bowl, and no cheapsey candy.

Yesterday was actually great. Got the candy, and a giant styrofoam spider, got home and was home alone. I lit candles in every room and put Evil Dead II on the wide-screen and let its dulcet screams fill the house. Lovely.

This week I keep getting off work early for doctor's appointments (today makes the third.)  I really hate the doctor and I resent my mom for making me go...which sounds seriously immature now that I've written it out, but it's true. Anyway - after enjoying 2 back-to-back upper respiratory infections which together lasted the entire month of October, I am ready to start November healthy.

Bruce. So I have officially axed "Bartholomew" from my "List of Names to Name Sons" and have replaced it with Bruce. "Bruce" is a manly man's name. You've got UCE like a mighty spruce tree, raaawr, and then Broo, like BRUTAL. It's like "Brutal Spruce." Bruce carries the brunt of the of the weight. Bruce is braced like mace. Bruce is blunt and sounds like brews, so Bruce Brewer flows together practically like a pun.

Anyhoo...it can make up for how faggy all the other sons' names will be! :) I love my unborn and unadopted children.
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Halloweeeeeeeeeen! 2 Imaginitive mouse drawrings for ya [Oct. 28th, 2009|06:41 pm]
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[Current Mood | depressed]
[Listening to |ANGEL IN THE CENTAFOLD!]


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Save some time [Oct. 28th, 2009|10:29 am]
I'm decided. Let's not do daylight savings this year. Who's with me!

At least I'm not in Boston...When I worked in the mall I didn't see the fucking sun all winter long. The sun would come and go while I was at work. Boston was very dark.

Since I'm talking about Boston...anybody want to live there with me? It is a GREAT place to live. Safe. Accessible. Fun. Not that I have a job there at the moment, but there are some cool jobs in Beantown. Better than here. I'm seriously considering moving back. You should think about it too.

If my sister came with me, that would be an extra person paying rent. Just saying I'm up for it, is all.

So: horseback riding. Going well. Getting the hang of cantering, at least, instructor finally said it looked like I knew what I was doing as far as keeping the canter going. As a self-improving extracurricular it is going very well, but socially it is a total flunk. The only people I even sort of know are the 10-year old twins doing lessons before me, who don't really talk to me but refer to me as "that girl." Oh well, they're 10, they can do that until they learn better. One said she liked my hair, though: score.

( Lunch Break Isn't Free )
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Halloween / Movies / Scaring Self [Oct. 27th, 2009|08:19 am]
Anybody want to watch one of the following with me this Friday or Saturday? They're in order of which I want to watch the most, but I will watch any of them and take suggestions as long as I have company. Ideally we'd do this at my house, because I plan on drinking and tromping through the woods with a skeleton and trying to scare myself.

1) Donnie Darko
2) Young Frankenstien
3) Psycho
4) The Orphanage
5) Dead Silence
6) Silent Hill

Sup yall
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(no subject) [Oct. 26th, 2009|12:49 pm]
Five years ago a therapist told me to put something "on a shelf" in the back of my mind. I've been cleaning out my closet.

I wonder why she told me that, haha. Probably because it wasn't in her realm of experience. Well...no harm done, I suppose, but I wonder what would happen if every doctor I saw reccomended I do the same.

( So I was practicing asphyxiation this weekend... )
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Time is relative, after all [Oct. 21st, 2009|11:19 am]
Sometimes I freak out in the morning, not sure if I'm on time for work. At 4-ish, with a variable-length commute, it's often hard to tell.

All I know is that if I get in the car and the car-clock says 4:30, that means it's actually 5:27...and I'm good. Every clock in our house has a different time, but my fifty-seven-minutes-behind car clock is the "Master Clock." Kitchen? 20-30 minutes off. Hall? TV? Who knows, these aren't on at 4:30 AM.

All I know is, I'm absolutely certain that if I leave home by 4:30 AM car-time (5:27 AM,) I can get to work on time, maybe with time to stop for gas really quickly. If I leave at any time before 5:27, I can stop for gas and smokes and coffee and a sammich and also dick around a bit before and/or after the 1.5 hour-ish journey.

This morning was one of those mornings where I panic within instants of waking up, not sure really where I am or what time it is (I really have no idea how the time on the alarm clock relates to the clock in my car, which means I have no real idea about how LONG it takes me to get ready in the morning.)

When I found myself fully awake and alert at 4:45 (approximately) I figured I not only had time for a shower, but extra dickaround coffee time too. Ha, imagine that! Showering in the morning.

I sort of like waking up before 5:00...being early is relaxing for me. It give you time for a "zen" moment before starting off instead of rushing around hoping you're not late for anything.

Wow, suddenly I'm alone in the office and eight billion things are going on. I don't feel like eating because that would involve me leaving the office phone and being worried about missing phone calls. ...Dammit.
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