Go Me
TITLE:
I assure you that I am, in fact, Not Dead
INTRODUCTION:
Okay, so, for various and sundry reasons which you may or may not know about (damn me for a close-mouthed pain-in-the-rump) it's been awhile since I've posted. (Well, actually, I expect all of you do know what I'm talking about, but, well. Meh.) Life has sucked, been alright, sucked some more, and been pretty okay. Which is not, in fact, informative, but suffice to say that I'm alright, still as sane as I ever was, and not in any danger of doing something drastic, like going postal on all the stupid freshman in my psych class who feel the need to talk the entire time. Which, in all honesty, I don't think anyone would blame me for, but I'm still resisting the urge. Can I get a huzzah for self-restraint?
DATA SUMMARY:
I saw crotalorumaurum today, and that was lovely. We did coffee, hit Target and Copperfield's and discovered that I could not, in fact, be taken anywhere as I have become seriously clumsy in my dotage, and cannot be trusted not to knock things down. I did get a bit (a tiny, minuscule bit) of Christmas shopping done, but not nearly enough. *Woeful look.*
I'm really trying to enjoy the holidays this year, I am. Well, okay, I'm trying not to be such a wet blanket about them, since I usually hate Christmas with a firey passion, which amounts to about the same thing. I still hate Christmas carols, though, which is actually what prompted this. They were playing Christmas carols on the satellite radio at the bookstore, and I was muttering about how much I utterly loathed them and wanted my iPod. To which a co-worker inquired as to wasn't I used to them playing Christmas carols at the bookstore, because hadn't I worked there last year?
Which I actually had to stop and think about, for a moment, because I honestly couldn't remember. Cognitively, I knew that I'd worked over break, of course, but I couldn't figure out why I had no memory of the obnoxious music.
And then I remembered exactly what I spent most of last winter break doing, and I figured out why I didn't really have any memories of that time period. Honestly, I don't think anyone in my family does. It's all kind of a haze of exhaustion and misery. And, in my case, sick, because the portion of time I wasn't spending with my grandparents and well through sheer force of medicated determination, I spent working at the bookstore with my immune system kicking me in the unmentionables going "You effing moron!"
So. In light of how I spent last year, I've determined that I'm going to be ... holiday-ish. This year, I mean. Maybe not all peace on earth, goodwill towards men and all that, but slightly more into the spirit of things. (And no, I do not mean the spirit of consumerism.)
Now. One small problem. Having spent the past eight or nine years working on an irrational loathing for Christmas and all things related to it, I've discovered that I have absolutely no idea how to enjoy the holiday anymore. Clearly, being holiday-ish is going to take some work. Any suggestions? I'm rather fond of the thought of vacationing somewhere warm, preferably far, far away from anyone who's actually related to me, with the exception of kwishin. You lot can come with me, if you like, because I want to see you all. Even if it looks like there's going to be precious little chance of that happening as it seems I'm going to be working a great deal of winter break. (Honestly, this is not my fault. My bosses guilt tripped me into working, even when I was going to take a week off, which isn't happening anymore. And then my parents guilt-tripped me into taking a day off, which didn't make one of my bosses very happy with me, but oh well. Guilt, apparently, is the currency of the realm these days.)
*Scowls.* I love my family. That's one of the unquestionable truths to life, I guess. But I can also honestly say that they're one of the major reasons that I will most likely never have children. Between the guilt-trips and an infuriating inability to be mad at them, I've a fair example of why it is that humans should not breed, lest they inflict themselves on a future generation. (Oh, Fates, I really wish I could be angry with my parents. I really do. I think my guilt-complex is too severe for that, though. Trying to be angry with someone I love is physically sickening, and never ends well.) Take tonight, for example. I was enjoying a small bowl of ice cream. (Yay, ice cream!) One of my parents then wanders by, pinches me in the tummy-pudge and glowers disapprovingly to convey their (unfortunately true, if unflattering) opinion regarding my weight and why I should not be eating ice cream and does not take kindly to a kick of retaliation. (Look. If you're going to invade my bubble of personal space, I'm going to retaliate physically, even if you are older, wiser, and outrank me in the familial hierarchy. That's just the way it works. You do not invade the bubble.) Anyway, it was a small thing, yes, but ultimately not one that did my self-esteem any good. I ended up dumping the rest of my ice cream in the sink (waste, I tell you!) and wondering why the hell my parents thought having children was a good idea. That was about the end of it. Trying to be angry about it just produced a tired mental sigh of frustration, so apparently even my inner angst potatoe has given up and moved on.
Which is kind of sad, now that I've stopped to think about it. I mean, come on. Even my inner angst potatoe has voted me off the island, jeez.
CONCLUSION:
But at least my inner angst potatoe is mostly in mental seclusion these days, as we're currently in a 'life doesn't suck that bad' period. Which is good, because my inner angst potatoe is largely insufferable.
Kind of like my muse, who needs to be drug out and shot on general principles, and especially for opening her big mouth about things that Don't Concern Her At All. *Glares at the muse.* I reject your theory, and I don't care if the null hypothesis supports your data statistically. Can't you be all inspiration-y for DecNaNo? Isn't that what you do? Bitch. (Doing NaNo in December this year with some fellow writerly peoples, because November was a really bad time to do it.)
And that's all. Hopefully further updates on tastelikeapples with writing, although I'm not sure how much of that will be fit for public consumption. I may need to stick some of it under a friends filter, but I'll let you all know ahead of time if it turns out that that's the case.
I assure you that I am, in fact, Not Dead
INTRODUCTION:
Okay, so, for various and sundry reasons which you may or may not know about (damn me for a close-mouthed pain-in-the-rump) it's been awhile since I've posted. (Well, actually, I expect all of you do know what I'm talking about, but, well. Meh.) Life has sucked, been alright, sucked some more, and been pretty okay. Which is not, in fact, informative, but suffice to say that I'm alright, still as sane as I ever was, and not in any danger of doing something drastic, like going postal on all the stupid freshman in my psych class who feel the need to talk the entire time. Which, in all honesty, I don't think anyone would blame me for, but I'm still resisting the urge. Can I get a huzzah for self-restraint?
DATA SUMMARY:
I saw crotalorumaurum today, and that was lovely. We did coffee, hit Target and Copperfield's and discovered that I could not, in fact, be taken anywhere as I have become seriously clumsy in my dotage, and cannot be trusted not to knock things down. I did get a bit (a tiny, minuscule bit) of Christmas shopping done, but not nearly enough. *Woeful look.*
I'm really trying to enjoy the holidays this year, I am. Well, okay, I'm trying not to be such a wet blanket about them, since I usually hate Christmas with a firey passion, which amounts to about the same thing. I still hate Christmas carols, though, which is actually what prompted this. They were playing Christmas carols on the satellite radio at the bookstore, and I was muttering about how much I utterly loathed them and wanted my iPod. To which a co-worker inquired as to wasn't I used to them playing Christmas carols at the bookstore, because hadn't I worked there last year?
Which I actually had to stop and think about, for a moment, because I honestly couldn't remember. Cognitively, I knew that I'd worked over break, of course, but I couldn't figure out why I had no memory of the obnoxious music.
And then I remembered exactly what I spent most of last winter break doing, and I figured out why I didn't really have any memories of that time period. Honestly, I don't think anyone in my family does. It's all kind of a haze of exhaustion and misery. And, in my case, sick, because the portion of time I wasn't spending with my grandparents and well through sheer force of medicated determination, I spent working at the bookstore with my immune system kicking me in the unmentionables going "You effing moron!"
So. In light of how I spent last year, I've determined that I'm going to be ... holiday-ish. This year, I mean. Maybe not all peace on earth, goodwill towards men and all that, but slightly more into the spirit of things. (And no, I do not mean the spirit of consumerism.)
Now. One small problem. Having spent the past eight or nine years working on an irrational loathing for Christmas and all things related to it, I've discovered that I have absolutely no idea how to enjoy the holiday anymore. Clearly, being holiday-ish is going to take some work. Any suggestions? I'm rather fond of the thought of vacationing somewhere warm, preferably far, far away from anyone who's actually related to me, with the exception of kwishin. You lot can come with me, if you like, because I want to see you all. Even if it looks like there's going to be precious little chance of that happening as it seems I'm going to be working a great deal of winter break. (Honestly, this is not my fault. My bosses guilt tripped me into working, even when I was going to take a week off, which isn't happening anymore. And then my parents guilt-tripped me into taking a day off, which didn't make one of my bosses very happy with me, but oh well. Guilt, apparently, is the currency of the realm these days.)
*Scowls.* I love my family. That's one of the unquestionable truths to life, I guess. But I can also honestly say that they're one of the major reasons that I will most likely never have children. Between the guilt-trips and an infuriating inability to be mad at them, I've a fair example of why it is that humans should not breed, lest they inflict themselves on a future generation. (Oh, Fates, I really wish I could be angry with my parents. I really do. I think my guilt-complex is too severe for that, though. Trying to be angry with someone I love is physically sickening, and never ends well.) Take tonight, for example. I was enjoying a small bowl of ice cream. (Yay, ice cream!) One of my parents then wanders by, pinches me in the tummy-pudge and glowers disapprovingly to convey their (unfortunately true, if unflattering) opinion regarding my weight and why I should not be eating ice cream and does not take kindly to a kick of retaliation. (Look. If you're going to invade my bubble of personal space, I'm going to retaliate physically, even if you are older, wiser, and outrank me in the familial hierarchy. That's just the way it works. You do not invade the bubble.) Anyway, it was a small thing, yes, but ultimately not one that did my self-esteem any good. I ended up dumping the rest of my ice cream in the sink (waste, I tell you!) and wondering why the hell my parents thought having children was a good idea. That was about the end of it. Trying to be angry about it just produced a tired mental sigh of frustration, so apparently even my inner angst potatoe has given up and moved on.
Which is kind of sad, now that I've stopped to think about it. I mean, come on. Even my inner angst potatoe has voted me off the island, jeez.
CONCLUSION:
But at least my inner angst potatoe is mostly in mental seclusion these days, as we're currently in a 'life doesn't suck that bad' period. Which is good, because my inner angst potatoe is largely insufferable.
Kind of like my muse, who needs to be drug out and shot on general principles, and especially for opening her big mouth about things that Don't Concern Her At All. *Glares at the muse.* I reject your theory, and I don't care if the null hypothesis supports your data statistically. Can't you be all inspiration-y for DecNaNo? Isn't that what you do? Bitch. (Doing NaNo in December this year with some fellow writerly peoples, because November was a really bad time to do it.)
And that's all. Hopefully further updates on tastelikeapples with writing, although I'm not sure how much of that will be fit for public consumption. I may need to stick some of it under a friends filter, but I'll let you all know ahead of time if it turns out that that's the case.