Apoplexy

Friends only! is a myth.
This blog is friends only and I kind of wish it were a myth too but here we are, so clearly I'm staring it down as I type.
I'm not sure how to describe this blog but it's pretty archetypal. "Woman being twit" would be the most obvious branding but I'm pretty sure if you look left you can find a listing of about 500 entries that share more than a passing similarity to that description.
It's not that I'm sexist it's just that most bloggers happen to be women.
Or act like women.
Anyway it's all very complicated.

Hello, peeps. Hello as well to bunny peeps, patriotic red/white/blue peeps, and the like. Just some updates, nothing too thrilling, but you're still reading, so yay.

I just turned this song on and suddenly I feel a lot more stately than I did previously.
Name one soundtrack better than the Final Fantasy Tactics soundtrack.

Just got back int from walking the dog. Yes, we now have a dog. Crandall was giving away his dog, Bella, so we agreed to take her. I thought it was a bad idea to get a dog at this point in time, but I was overruled. She is cute, she's part golden retriever, part something else. She has very short ears. they're still the floppy kind, not the stick-uppy kind. I like her, she's a sweet, affectionate dog, but very stubborn.

I'd just like to take a moment to say bloggers as a whole have a very bad habit of telling, not showing. This single paragraph has more exposition than both of my two previous stories I've written combined.
Describe characters through action or their speech. If you can't and you can't mention it in passing, the detail is irrelevant and the audience doesn't need to know!
WRITING.

I am sick and tired of being here. There are too many people in the god damned house all the time. I can never get any peace. The people that are supposed to be here invite a shit ton of people over. They make noise, eat our food, and leave messes everywhere. I am tired of there always being someone else in the bathroom every time I turn around to want to pee or shower. I'm tired of having to go upstairs and fill up plastic jugs full of water to lug downstairs to refill the animal's water bowl, or to rinse my pasta. I'm tired of having a broken dryer, tired of stepping in water from a leaky toilet valve every time I go into the bathroom. I'm tired of scrounging food out of whatever I can, because the food stamp budget runs out halfway through the month.

Oh tired of scrounging food?
Looked into an occupation?

I remember at one point eating two meals a day for an entire week consisting of spoonfuls of peanut butter, and glasses of chocolate milk. Not even sandwiches, because gluten free bread is not one of those things that's cheap and can buy anywhere, like regular bread.

Living on handouts means you have to get rid of your fictional food allergies.

So, yeah, just eating peanut butter off a friggin' spoon.

Is there anything better than a spoonful of peanut butter?

Hello, all. I'm at Craige's house.

How do you pronounce "Craige" exactly?
Is it like Craig?
Cray-j (soft g)?

Been here for three days. It's kind of nice so far, except today Craige's mom stole his money and drove off like a frigging dirty thief. It's disgusting. Anyway. Enough disgust. I've just been chilling since I got here. Craige ordered some bulk foods from amazon for me.

Crayj.
Cray-guh?

We're also going to go to Famous Dave's. It's a barbecue place that makes these ribs that are amazing. They re-awakened my love for barbecue. They have, like, five different kinds of sauces sitting right at the table, it's fantastic, and they're all delicious. We'll probably see a movie while we're there, 'cause it's movie theater-adjacent.

I can't eat gluten but ribs with God-knows-what kind of sauce goes down smooth as butter.
I know ribs have nothing to do with an inability to digest gluten but I dunno I still call bullshit.

I wish I could socialize more. I know a ton of people that would hang out with me(unless they're just saying that 'cause they know they'll never meet me), but everyone lives far away. The only local friend that I have is Sarah, and she's never here anymore. If I'm lucky, I see her once a month now, when she used to come over every frigging day in the past.

What about cree-guh?

When she does visit, it's only for a very short period, like maybe 15 minutes, half an hour, something like that. I'm sure everybody who passes through this house (my brother's friends, basically), wonders why I'm always in my room, on the computer, talking to Craige all the time.

Kraid.
You know, from Metroid?

Are there any subjects you either embrace or totally avoid talking about when you meet someone new?

I'll talk about whatever dumb bullshit they want to talk about because if we talk about what I want to talk about they'll get lost.
Peasantry.

Er, religion. People tend to think I worship the devil or something. I'm a Wiccan, not a Satanist. :P

You're a bullshitter is what you are.
True story: I pissed a girl in high school off once in science class and she wanted to cast one of her little Wiccan spells on me but needed my permission.
What kind of bullshit spellcasting is that? You need the victim's permission to inflict harm? Who is going to say yes?
Well I did because I feel my collective video game experience would at least give me high magic resistance and either it didn't work or I'm right because here I sit.

Internal Monologue:

One Part of my Brain: "I laugh at people and think they're hugely lame dorks when they freak out over something I'm not interested in. Then I turn around and dork out like crazy over Harry Potter and Eragon. Does that make me a hypocrite?"

Other Part: "Yes. Yes it does."

Internal monologue:
One part of my brain: holy shit this woman is a cunt.
Other part: holy shit, yes.

Well, I figures it's about time I make another post. It's been about ten days since my Birthday, and I still don't feel any different. I think it's because I got used to referring to myself as 25 before I actually turned 25, so the transition wasn't strange.

There's a lot of transitioning to be done from age 24 and 364 days to age 25.

Anyway, I feel especially immature right now, because yesterday I had a dream that I was still in school. I mean, high school, or junior high, not like college.

You're supposed to be out of college by the time you're 25.
Unless you're a doctor.

In the dream I felt that I was going back to school, but not that i was done with it, but I had one more year that I didn't attend, so that's why I was there. Like dreams are supposed to, it gave me the feeling I was actually there. Not the physical feeling, but the emotional state that I felt when was actually in school. I wish I could interpret dreams well. All I can do is guess what they might mean for me. Do I feel I'm still too young? Do I feel like I reached adulthood too soon, that I should still be in school?

IS THIS THE REAL LIFE?
IS THIS JUST FANTASY?
CAUGHT IN A LANDSLIDE
NO ESCAPE FROM REALITY
OPEN YOUR EYES

Well the only way I can learn about the real world is to go out into it, there's really no other way. One thing I'm very sure of is I can't stand being so far away from Craige all the time.

Kratos. From God of War?
Also god of power in Greek mythology.
I don't know why I can't get over this Craige name.

I get this anxiety sometimes when we're close to saying goodnight on Skype, like I desperately don't want to say goodbye to him. I don't want to hang up and go to bed alone. Craige is urging me to see a therapist;

Kaldor.
From Warhammer?
I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. I think "Craige" vaguely reminded me of "Kraid" from Metroid if you pronounce it with a soft g sound but now I'm just thinking of fictional characters whose names start with a K sound.

he has one, and he talks about how much better it makes him feel. I know it would be so liberating to pour all my feelings out, all my anxieties and worries and perhaps articulate these feelings I don't have a name for. I'm not suicidal, or depressed, thankfully, but it would be nice to talk with someone and work out some of my issues, maybe improve myself a little bit. I want to wait until Mom comes home, to suggest therapy for me. Dad worries about me too much, sometimes irrationally so.

Maybe that's where you learned that behavior from?
Everyone should pay me to solve their problems.
However you must take my advice.

I want to go down to Craige's, but I don't want to leave right after she gets here.

Kayvaan Shrike.
Also from Warhammer.
I can do this as long as you can, Craige.

Hello, everyone, today is my 25th birthday! Yay! Nothing going on today, really. Dad's going to give me my present when he gets home from work later.

He's going to molest you.
It's long overdue.
I don't even know what I mean by that.
I think I just advocated child molestation in this blog.
Most tasteless joke I've ever told?

I swore to post more, and I haven't, really. I'm ashamed. Not that there's been much to post about, but still. Dad's still in Florida, I've been basically by my lonesome here. Chris, my brother, is usually working at his job where he makes money that he spends only on himself. Feh.
Well it is his money.

See what I mean? If only the father had done is fatherly duty and molested her a little it might have evened her out.
Ok I'll stop.

I keep getting up really late, like quarter to five or so, which is not good. It's a hard cycle to break. I'm not tired until late(early?), because I got up really late, so then I wake up late because I stayed up late, etc. I forced myself to bed, around 4:30.

I fall asleep at 5 and I still manage to get up at 1.
SUMMER MOTHERFUCKER WOOO.

Random thought: When you change your name, what happens when you need to show your birth certificate for something? How is that all taken care of?

... They give you a new birth certificate?
Are you stupid or something?

Also, I found out Craige's mother

The Aggro Crag.
From GUTS?
Remember that show?
Yeah me neither.

is even more of a shit person than I thought she was. The day after the accident, I wasn't cleaning my dishes. I was just leaving them in the sink. Because I was in pain. Up until then, I've been trying to clean up after myself. I just wanted to rest as much as I could. Well, it turns out she was bitching to Craige that there were dishes in the sink. She was angry that I, who was in severe pain, didn't wash dishes one day. The messed up thing is that she didn't even yell at me for it. She yelled at Craige.

Oh boy. I need two things that sound vaguely like "Craige" now.
Well if "Kayvaan Shrike" counts this shouldn't be an issue--
Maybe I should actually read these words instead of just playing this weird game.
Sorry I can't get more than two words without my eyes crossing. Something about dishes and an accident--
OH
YEAH.
Warhammer always bails me out. Pedro KANTOR and CANIS Wolfborn.
Hard K and hard K, baby.
Huh, what am I doing again?

Craige. She doesn't even care how much pain I'm in, and she doesn't care that Craige has nothing to do with my actions. Craige tells me that every thing I do that she has a problem with,

Oh God three Craiges in one sentence!
I'm in trouble now!
I also use that picture to reference my earlier quoting of Queen.
It felt more appropriate here, though, for some reason.
What am I doing?
Speaking of those creepy fucking snow monkeys:
I had an entire speech in Japanese class a few semesters ago about how those snow monkeys are the devil.
Seriously every year they come down from their creepy mountains (more like the mouths of hell) and kill a bunch of old people.
And this is your national treasure, Japan? Really?
Compare and contrast:
snow monkey
Predator
Beady yellow eyes, creepy elongated face, killer instinct
facial cloaca--
and hey, while the Predator was bound by the code of the hunt and they'd only fight targets they find challenging, snow moneys frequently target old women and young girls.
I HAVE CONCLUSIVELY PROVEN SNOW MONKEYS ARE MORE OF A MENACE THAN PREDATOR ALIENS.

So, I thought I was having a good day. I went to the beach, with my brand spanking new bathing suit, and sat on the beach and let the waves wash over me. I splashed around, and had a wonderful time. Craige

Oh right. I've been derelict of duty.
I need four Craige counters now.
Uhh--

and I walked back to the house, and I got in the shower to wash the sand out of my bathing suit. I kept it on in the shower, so I could just take it off and rinse the sand out while I showered. I decided to sling my suit over the curtain rod. Unfortunately, it's not attached to the wall. I slipped, the curtain rod came down, and I fell and hit the side of the bathtub square in the chest. I crawled out of the bathroom, half naked, and gasping for air, and collapsed onto the floor of Craige's room. I was sopping wet, in severe pain, and I couldn't breathe. His mom got me a towel, and I had to sit there and try to catch my breath. I was in a lot of pain, so they drove me to the E.R.

Ha, ha, ha oh God.

I managed to put on my pajamas before I left, thankfully. I was seen fairly quickly, for which I was thankful. I got x-rayed, and it turns out there was no severe damage. I didn't fracture any ribs, and I didn't mush any organs. While I was waiting, they gave me a motrin and a percoset. It didn't kick in until I was getting ready to leave. I don't know why everybody's always going on about pain medication. I thought it felt horrible.

Well yeah. They gave you Percocet because you fell on your bottom.

Today's Craige's 25th birthday, also our 2nd anniversary. We've been together two years already! It's hard to believe. We're going out to dinner tonight. It's this place called Ginza, it's a japanese restaurant. It's the kind where they cook the food in front of you. I believe it's called a hibachi grill.

Not sure though.
Google? What?

A word/phrase I love for a reason I cannot discern: "Clusterfuck".

Suggestions for "Clusterfuck" by spellcheck: Cluster, Lackluster, Blusterous, Knuckleduster. What the hell is a knuckleduster?

Brass knuckles you twit.
Other things I don't know:
Google.com
Wikipedia.org
Asking a friend

I realize how bad my problems with gluten are, how much I've lapsed on my diet lately. At the present, I'm reading a thread in the celiac comm about someone who has problems resisting foods with gluten, just like I do. I think I'm going to go write negative stuff about gluten on the chalkboard decals in my room, stuff like, "Eating gluten gives you CANCER!" Because it very well could.

Too bad it can't give you rapid-onset AIDS.

I know Mom and Dad won't like this, but I'm going to ask for my own pots, pans, and instruments for myself, which nobody is allowed to use but me, A.K.A. "Dedicated" stuff.

DENATURING PROTEINS VIA CHEMICAL INDUCTION?
IMPOSSIBLE. YOU SPEAK IN RIDDLES, SORCERER!

The only reason they won't like it is because this costs money for extra pans, which we are low on at the moment. At least I know that when Craige and I have our own place one day, he's okay with our house being completely gluten free. Just have to deal here, the best I can.

Or you could get some dish soap.
Seriously if you can get the starch out of flour by soaking it in cold water I think a little Dawn will get that shit off your pots.
Anyway this entry is way too long now so I'm going to go find something more productive to do with my time.

Apocalypse Nigh

Did you guys hear the world is ending? Yeah, if you add up a seemingly arbitrary series of numbers and dates you end up with a sum that vaguely resembles tomorrow's date!
HOLY SHIT.
And I thought the Mayan calendar was a specious connection to the end times.
One question I ask people who believe in the 2012 bullshit again and again and I can never get a reasonable answer: HOW IS IT PEOPLE THAT HAD ENOUGH INSIGHT TO ACCURATELY PREDICT THE END OF THE WORLD COULD NOT FORESEE THEIR OWN DESTRUCTION?
Makes you think-- no it doesn't.
This blog is locked with this message:

My drawings and creative writing are usually public, as are most memes. It's the personal/therapeutic stuff that is locked. If you want to read that too, please comment to be added.

Which I find especially humorous because nothing is locked.
At least, stuff that would definitely fall into the "personal" category is flapping free in the breeze so go fucking figure.

I'm really pretty happy with how this turned out. It's so functional and clean-looking! My first wedding site design was much frillier, but I realized that people will be visiting it to get information, above all else. In this version, you know immediately what you're looking at: it's a site about Jim/Angie's wedding, which will be on 6-30-12 on Orcas Island.

That is next year.
I'm pretty sure the royal fucking wedding had less plan time.

I'm kind of shocked that I pulled this off - I'm usually so bad with deadlines. I got behind on Wednesday, when Eric & co were so intent on having a drinking night. I told him about my self-imposed projects, and he thought it was pretty silly. As you can tell from the ridiculous f-locked post below, I succumbed to peer pressure... and was incredibly sick the next day.

Well I can't tell but I assume someone can.

Anyway, I persevered and finished everything pretty much to my satisfaction. My approach to projects feels very different now. Less stress/anxiety/I-just-want-to-be-sleeping, more focus. Another benefit of therapy?

ANOTHER BENEFIT OF THERAPY? Go fuck yourself, Jesus.

Getting stressed about making a website for your own wedding has to be one of the most banal, self-indulgent, ridiculous things I've ever heard on Livejournal.

If you had to eat the same breakfast everyday for a year (and it would be prepared and served to you), what would you choose?

Just giving you some background for the douchiest response in the world:

Hahaha, I already eat the same thing for breakfast every day. Jim is always teasing me about how simple it is, and meanwhile, I feel incredibly lucky that we can afford to eat this way, not just once in a while but all the time. It's wondrous!

My breakfast: a slice of the rosemary bread from TJ's, a piece of tasty cheese (this changes, but it's often smoked gouda or cheddar), and sliced strawberries. (Okay, sometimes the strawberries do not look good and then I have blueberries or blackberries instead. But you get the idea.) Also, a glass of milk.

I have no idea what smoked gouda is but it gets worse:

I would not change it even if someone else offered to cook for me (though I do enjoy Saturdays, when Jim often lets me sleep in and engages in some cooking alchemy. He usually wakes me up with an egg/potato/cheese concoction which is delicious and sinful, but would not be nearly as good every day of the week).

Something about the phrase "delicious and sinful" seriously sent shivers down my spine.
DOUCHE SHIVERS.
Good grief.

Now here's a post entitled "Hedonism" and my body is ready for a douche seizure.
I sometimes get the sense from my more urban friends that they think people like me - people who want to live on the edges of mountains away from everything - are ascetics of a sort. We are missing out, they say. Maybe for some higher purpose (they are kind and don't evaluate the reward) but certainly at cost.

O ye lives bereft of content to think such thoughts.

And I think, but do not say, that I am the better hedonist. Who cares if you can get a skillfully mixed martini in a stylish bar? Who cares if you can rub your skin against another lonely human? The air smells bad in there. It smells like smoke and sweat. You are neglecting one of your senses, and that is shameful for a hedonist.

I wish there was Warhammer wisdom here but, alas, the writers of Warhammer never considered a steel for such douchebaggery.
Let's check the records, in fact.
"Happiness is a delusion of the weak."
I think that's about as fitting as it gets.

I have to admit, I'm a little embarrassed about this one.

Favorite Cover

It had to be a Glee song. What other choice did I have?

What other choice did you have?
I dunno, any other cover ever?
Or no, let's simplify this:
THIS SONG.

I am beginning to feel many things again. It's like - after you recover a head cold, when the woolly layer of sickness is removed from your tongue, and you take your meals with this sense of wonder. You remember what bitterness is, discover how a seared fish can go down in savory glory, and learn again to love the sweetness of ripe strawberries.

Whatever.
This just really underscores how awesome I am as a writer and how DELUUUUSIONAL everyone else is in my mind.

But what's funny is that I am tasting very little this week, because many of the things I'm feeling are so difficult.

Because when things taste bad you can just opt not to taste at all.
This is where you should check your analogy before it becomes increasingly difficult to follow.
Well anyway that's the first entry so job well done, me.

OH NO

Light is a complex and confusing affair, and probably the most important thing one can study in Warham painting. Many novices make the mistake of looking at an effect and trying to reproduce it wholesale without thinking of the constituent parts that create it.Why do I bring this up? Because specular highlighting is hard and going from one blinding activity to another is HOLY SHIT I'M BLIND.
Fucking Space Marines and their armor.
Also fuck Livejournal and their font choice.Anyway, today we have some bitch teaching English in France.
It's real pretentious in case you couldn't guess.
Our first entry is "Thoughts about teaching grammar, even if you don't care." and thanks for giving me the option. YOU'RE GOING TO HEAR THIS WHETHER YOU LIKE OR NOT, MOTHERFUCKER.Actually I could just scroll down and be done with it. Or close the browser and do something else.
In fact I have a lot of options "even if I don't care" but apparently I do, because here we go.

I think that grammar needs to be explicitly taught - because the student is going to ask eventually - but WHY is it like that?

Ah yes, flashback to yesterday's Japanese class.
Sometimes things just are the way they are because Japan is an isolated backwater when its language is developing and it does shit its own way on its own time.
Just roll with it. Polite form ましょう+ と思う = "I think we should _______" whereas plain　よおう + と思う= "I plan to ________" just go with it. They don't think it be like it is, but it do. I guess it's because that verb can mean "to think" or "to plan" and so-- no, it still doesn't really make that much sense in an English context.

But if you were to put it into some better context, not a cartoon, and not a tight and clean control. How?

Is that a fucking word jumble or are you asking a question? I thought these were your thoughts on grammar, not asking a bunch of dumbass questions about textbooks?
Ugh, forget it.

And I do. The mint-green fishnets and black leotard. They say 'wow what a lion we've got with this show-stopper.' Hair all a mane. I walk around with a shadow between my legs on stage from the spotlight overhead.

WHAT THE FUCK AM I READING?

Sometimes old men give me candy afterward. Don't take it from strangers, they say, but I do, because it's so good.

YOU'RE TALKING IN TONGUES, WOMAN! THE DEVIL IS IN YOU!

if I'd get a tattoo, it should be of "sexy flower." Not a rose, he said, something with the petals opened, a little "haute couture," a little soft and natural, and put his wrists up to his neck and fanned out his hands.

WHAT

The best things I do are artistic - whatever'll let me do that.

OK.

Oh yeah, your last three entries have been filled with artistry but NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT.

I might say that Italian films are my favorite foreign kind.

... Of film. Why are you teaching grammar, again? 10/10 sentences of yours, on average, will be opaque and not make much sense grammatically.OR NO, EXCUSE ME.Teach grammar why are you again? Sentences many as in 10/10 sense grammatically they will not make. Opaque.

No one but me in my family for French - how did I choose this isolation? In fact, if I think of it, I'm pretty sure there isn't any "Romantic" ancestry. French, Italian, Spanish, Romanian, Portuguese. Interesting, sort of. Languages, and the connected cultures, bypass ancestry.

Interesting to you, maybe. Meanwhile in metown I'm rubbing my temples wondering when the milky white fog will finally overtake my vision.

Let's think about the Basques.

You know what? No. Let's not think about the Basques. How about that for once?

ring out like a roar
in the night.

Suddenly reminded of something that doesn't suck, hold on.

All this talk of warm and cold fronts is pretty romantic.

Instead of two lovers meeting it's - air masses.

SORRY CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF AWESOME.

taking a walk. They were each standing about a foot into the street so that at first I'd watch the cars zooming up

WHAT? SORRY, THIS IS REALLY LOUD NOW.

The thing is, I couldn't stop thinking about sex.

Eww, you think about sex when you talk about Mormons? The only thing I think about when I talk to the religious DEVIANTS on campus is how awesome it'd be if Warhammer was real.
The religious deviants on campus being:

• everyone

Quite a list.
Haven't been confronted by Scientologists recently, come to think on it.

Usually a song, after I've heard it once or a few times.

Like I need, need, need, to hear it again, like it touched something hard in me and I need it touched again.

Tongue tiedshort of breath, don't even try
ooooo try a little harder
something's wrong, you're not naive, you must be stronger
oh baby try
hey girl
move a little closer
you're too shy too shy, hush hush eye to eye
hush hush eye to eye

Whoa, sorry. Completely off topic but it just came on and I decided it was a lot better than this.
I was taking a walk reading The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass and was stopped for my number and I said had a boyfriend he said had a woman he said you go on with your walk then, smiling, said damn mm-mm as I walked off.

Holy God what the fuck does that say? Bitch: punctuations. Now.
Also: the Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass? Really? I mean, I had my arm twisted in school and read it (a bit). Who reads that for pleasure, seriously?
Hey Douglass, here's an idea for you: narratives often have a narrow focus to keep the reader's attention. Just a thought.

If you only had read how Frederick was beaten, you'd see how silly my fall was.

Fall as in "oh no I'm falling" or a symbolic Fall like in Paradise Lost?

Still, some things are significant for meaning other things, if you'd just think about them.
I give you what you wanted, girl. I have some hate left in me that is reasonable. I think it all gets worked out, especially in art and life.

You're right. Suddenly that Lady GaGa song I heard on the radio the other day has a whole new meaning for me. Like when she says "stop calling, stop calling I don't wanna think anymore" I think I suddenly understand exactly what she means. That's you. Stop calling.

I have so many books, and thought yesterday that : damn it if I had no books in my life I'd have so much space. It's not really the space though, I don't need so much space. I think rather than the space it's the weight.

You should write a book. You'd fit right in with those postmodern, pretentious assholes.
Anyway, I'm going to leave you today with two thoughts. One totally awesome to make up for THIS HORSESHIT and finally something I'm going to tell our pretentious cunt here.
The first shall be her thought for the day:
And finally:Fucking rad.