in between listings, trying to manage sanity
I chose the icon just because I wanted to use it, since I just made it and am actually rather pleased with how it turned out. I say this because I know where this post is going to end up and I'm not being needy. Jared is just pretty, even when all you can see is his chin and his t-shirt.
I think my brain is inching toward an actual idea for my header. Maybe. Its percolating, anyway, and I've liked some of the affects that I've pulled off with the coloring etc in icons lately. Its a lot bigger space than I'm used to dealing with, though, and graphic design (hell, art in general) isn't my strong suit, so I'm not sure how I want to fit things together...
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Will is sick, so I can't be nearly as mad at him about not being as up and at'm as he should be. Maybe he was sick yesterday too and hadn't said anything, so I kind of feel bad for bitching. Well, about Will in particular, anyway. Boss is still a moron.
Sort of like how we haven't had a buy-list for the latest MTG set, or an updated one for the older sets. Current set-up means that we have to call Boss any time someone has cards to sell to see if he's even interested in them, nevermind how much they should get for them. Considering the reason he hasn't made the list is because he's "spinning too many plates" I don't foresee this ending well.
At least the masters level course about comic books seems to be going pretty smoothly. The prof set it up so that we're the ones the students go to to pick up their "texts" namely awesome graphic novels that he and my boss picked out. Watchmen and V for Vendetta and Promethea and Authority and a whole bunch of others are on the list. We're giving them some pretty sweet deals (30% off just for being in the class, plus a few other specials), so despite the fact that only $600 actually mattered for the day, yesterday was a $1300 day. (That's an amazing daily total for a store like ours, believe me.)
A shame the undergrad teacher hadn't reached out too. Not because I want more customers (though hey, it wouldn't be bad) but because our store would be a valuable asset in outside exploration. Boss (or hell, me or Jonathan or even Will) could have recommended books for extra reading or extra credit. There's good conversation to be had in a comic shop, and students coming in with a more academic purpose in mind than "who would win in a fight..." would be refreshing. Yeah, I'd totally want the kiddies coming in and ending up addicted to the crack that is a good comic book. I'm no altruist. But it'd be sharing stories with people that give a damn. (They'd have to, right? To sign up for the class?) And who knows what kind of lightbulb would go off, with all the genres and all the authors and the questions being asked in the class. ...Or maybe I'm being optimistic again. I like the thought that maybe the store could mean more than just that place that sells Batman and Spider-man...
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As I was in the process of creating the icon table from my earlier post, it suddenly occurred to me that it had been a long time since I'd started utilizing Scrapbook and I didn't remember some of the stuff that was in there. Some of my best icons from back then (I don't even know how long its been, a year? two?) were alright, but God, most of them sucked lol. Its like suddenly finding that story I started writing in middle school and forgot about, a little embarassing despite being able to see the beginnings of what I'd do later.
I found a picture of me:
My hair is almost that long again now, though its been a hell of a long time since I've worn a skirt. Its not too bad a picture either, even if it seems so far away from where I am now. I think it might have been as far back as before David's breakdown. Hn.
No pictures of the cats though. I can't find the cable to the camera and I keep forgetting to get batteries, so I may just hijack David's Mac later to utilize the nifty built in cam and try and convince Neko and Pip to hold still long enough to take a few shots. Not optimal for iconing, but it would be a hell of a lot better than only having pictures on my phone. I think he's got random camera affects like doing it as a photobooth and instant effects, though I don't properly remember. deralte's laptop had more advanced affects, and now I can't figure out if I'm transposing them or not... In any case, I think they should be fun photos.
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So yeah, that thing that's kind of weighing on me. (This is the part where you read this as a string of facts, because I'm not asking for comfort or validation or pity or even judgment. Its just the way things are, and I'm getting it out.) Don't think I've blogged about this before. I had this friend growing up. I didn't meet her as early on as I met spaltor, but it was pretty early, I was maybe 8. Her parents and my parents were friends, my dad worked with her parents. This was back when my parents actually had a social life. We were inseperable as often as we could get together, were on the phone the rest of the time. We had fun tormenting her older brother by reading his X-Men comics, pretended to be cats until that wasn't cool anymore. Eventually her family moved to Utah, and writing letters back and forth with her was how I started writing fanfiction. It was a godawful mary-sue, but no one was reading it but us so it didn't matter. She'd write a part with every letter, and so would I.
And then something happened. There was a lot of drama in Utah, her parents got divorced (found out then he wasn't actually her father, that her mom had been divorced before). Her mom dated some douchebags before pulling herself together and married a good man. Her mom got sick (and I was getting through middle school then I guess) though no one ever really told me what was wrong. All I ever had to go by was my friend's word on anything in Utah. How hard it was to be a Protestant in a school full of Mormons. Problems with her brother.
That her new step-father hurt her. I don't remember if she said he was beating her or something worse, I don't remember now and it makes me feel a little sick. Of course I believed her. I stayed on the phone with her til all hours and I got in trouble, giving her the ear she didn't have.
That I thought she didn't have. Turns out it wasn't true, though I didn't listen to anyone but her for a long time. Of course they'd believe her step-dad right? She told me about how she was going to culinary school and living on her own, about this life she was living. And I believed her. Of course I believed her.
Til the lies unraveled. She'd never gone to so much as community college. She was living with her boyfriend in his mom's basement. Her brother told me about how what she said about her step-father couldn't be true because of all the things that were wrong with the story, the places and times that couldn't possibly be. She'd been lying to me the whole time, and for no reason I could think of. I was half a continent away, and ever sympathetic. She was like blood to me, and had lied to me about everything.
So. I cut off contact with her. I had to, because I couldn't trust her. The only thing I ever ask for is the truth, for honesty. And she knew that. She used that. I couldn't deal with that.
I think maybe somewhere toward the end, before I shut her out, she started to have a breakdown. The world caved down around her, alone, and I couldn't care because I hurt too much. She got better, as time went on (at least as far as I know from her mom to my mom to me). She got married, at some point, to a decent guy.
I didn't get better, not like that, not so quickly (as if that could be called quick). It took me a hell of a long time to forgive her. To not be angry every time I heard her name. I deleted all her voicemails, didn't read her emails. It took me a long time to let go. Mostly let go. According to my parents it isn't really forgiveness if it still hurts. Although I did friend her on MySpace when she requested it. Its not like I hate her.
I just don't know how to be around her. I have to listen to voicemails from her in bits because my brain just clicks somewhere else. I know its selfish. I know I'm being a coward. I kind of hate myself for it, I'm trying to work through it. I'm trying, with steps that seem to small even to me, but I can't seem to force myself to be better. To be the friend that I ought to be.
I haven't heard from her in a while. She leaves a message on my MySpace wall or whatever its called every once in a while. I haven't gotten a call from her in ages.
Last night David and I are walking to CVS to get his ADHD meds, and my phone rings. It was the sort of hour that I couldn't imagine who'd be calling me, and I see an unknown NJ number. Usually that means its a wrong number. I've got all my parents work numbers, all the cell phones, both my brother's phones, his girlfriend's phone and her dad's phone. Even in an emergency, it would have to wind up coming from something I recognize. I ignore it and we walk, trying to stay alive in the Texas heat and avoiding thinking about what we'll do if the TX res discount card doesn't work. I remember the call in the morning and listen to the voicemail.
Its her. Which at first means I'm not hearing anything and I have to play it again. Then I just can't believe it and play it again.
She gave birth to a baby boy. That day. And she called me. She was exhausted, enough so that most of the message didn't make sense because she was mumbling. She had a beautiful baby boy, was proud of him, gave all the details that everyone always asks for. And then started talking about how she wants us to be friends again, wants me to call her. She was under the weird impression that my phone was disconnected, despite the fact that she was leaving a voicemail.
Its like a kick in the gut. I'm happy for her, I am. I'm glad she's happy and send all my love to the little one. I'm proud of her, that she's come so far from whatever it is that happened before. She has a family and she has a home and she has a life.
And I'm such a dick because I'm too much of a coward to call her. I did send her a message, texted her that I'd sent a message. I'm a coward but I'm not a douchebag. She called me the same day that she had been in labor, I can at least send a message, neh? Even if its equal parts congratulations, apology that she thinks she has the wrong number for me, and explanation for why I'm not calling. Telling her that I could do messages online if she wanted. God I'm such a dick.
And part of it? Is definitely that dude. Someone I grew up with gave birth...
ETA: I'd like to point out that I wasn't exactly nice about cutting ties, that I didn't just quietly shut down and pull back. I recoiled like a whip, and while the memory is a blur, I'm fairly certain I let her catch as much of the cat-o'-nine-tails as I could without actually lashing out. I'm not a wronged saint, here. I'm not just self-depricating when I call myself a dick. Maybe you think its justified, and that's one thing. Doesn't change the fact that its a bitchy move to make.
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So, its time to go home. I don't close today, thank god. We've been busy as fuck.
I think my brain is inching toward an actual idea for my header. Maybe. Its percolating, anyway, and I've liked some of the affects that I've pulled off with the coloring etc in icons lately. Its a lot bigger space than I'm used to dealing with, though, and graphic design (hell, art in general) isn't my strong suit, so I'm not sure how I want to fit things together...
_____
Will is sick, so I can't be nearly as mad at him about not being as up and at'm as he should be. Maybe he was sick yesterday too and hadn't said anything, so I kind of feel bad for bitching. Well, about Will in particular, anyway. Boss is still a moron.
Sort of like how we haven't had a buy-list for the latest MTG set, or an updated one for the older sets. Current set-up means that we have to call Boss any time someone has cards to sell to see if he's even interested in them, nevermind how much they should get for them. Considering the reason he hasn't made the list is because he's "spinning too many plates" I don't foresee this ending well.
At least the masters level course about comic books seems to be going pretty smoothly. The prof set it up so that we're the ones the students go to to pick up their "texts" namely awesome graphic novels that he and my boss picked out. Watchmen and V for Vendetta and Promethea and Authority and a whole bunch of others are on the list. We're giving them some pretty sweet deals (30% off just for being in the class, plus a few other specials), so despite the fact that only $600 actually mattered for the day, yesterday was a $1300 day. (That's an amazing daily total for a store like ours, believe me.)
A shame the undergrad teacher hadn't reached out too. Not because I want more customers (though hey, it wouldn't be bad) but because our store would be a valuable asset in outside exploration. Boss (or hell, me or Jonathan or even Will) could have recommended books for extra reading or extra credit. There's good conversation to be had in a comic shop, and students coming in with a more academic purpose in mind than "who would win in a fight..." would be refreshing. Yeah, I'd totally want the kiddies coming in and ending up addicted to the crack that is a good comic book. I'm no altruist. But it'd be sharing stories with people that give a damn. (They'd have to, right? To sign up for the class?) And who knows what kind of lightbulb would go off, with all the genres and all the authors and the questions being asked in the class. ...Or maybe I'm being optimistic again. I like the thought that maybe the store could mean more than just that place that sells Batman and Spider-man...
_____
As I was in the process of creating the icon table from my earlier post, it suddenly occurred to me that it had been a long time since I'd started utilizing Scrapbook and I didn't remember some of the stuff that was in there. Some of my best icons from back then (I don't even know how long its been, a year? two?) were alright, but God, most of them sucked lol. Its like suddenly finding that story I started writing in middle school and forgot about, a little embarassing despite being able to see the beginnings of what I'd do later.
I found a picture of me:
My hair is almost that long again now, though its been a hell of a long time since I've worn a skirt. Its not too bad a picture either, even if it seems so far away from where I am now. I think it might have been as far back as before David's breakdown. Hn.
No pictures of the cats though. I can't find the cable to the camera and I keep forgetting to get batteries, so I may just hijack David's Mac later to utilize the nifty built in cam and try and convince Neko and Pip to hold still long enough to take a few shots. Not optimal for iconing, but it would be a hell of a lot better than only having pictures on my phone. I think he's got random camera affects like doing it as a photobooth and instant effects, though I don't properly remember. deralte's laptop had more advanced affects, and now I can't figure out if I'm transposing them or not... In any case, I think they should be fun photos.
_____
So yeah, that thing that's kind of weighing on me. (This is the part where you read this as a string of facts, because I'm not asking for comfort or validation or pity or even judgment. Its just the way things are, and I'm getting it out.) Don't think I've blogged about this before. I had this friend growing up. I didn't meet her as early on as I met spaltor, but it was pretty early, I was maybe 8. Her parents and my parents were friends, my dad worked with her parents. This was back when my parents actually had a social life. We were inseperable as often as we could get together, were on the phone the rest of the time. We had fun tormenting her older brother by reading his X-Men comics, pretended to be cats until that wasn't cool anymore. Eventually her family moved to Utah, and writing letters back and forth with her was how I started writing fanfiction. It was a godawful mary-sue, but no one was reading it but us so it didn't matter. She'd write a part with every letter, and so would I.
And then something happened. There was a lot of drama in Utah, her parents got divorced (found out then he wasn't actually her father, that her mom had been divorced before). Her mom dated some douchebags before pulling herself together and married a good man. Her mom got sick (and I was getting through middle school then I guess) though no one ever really told me what was wrong. All I ever had to go by was my friend's word on anything in Utah. How hard it was to be a Protestant in a school full of Mormons. Problems with her brother.
That her new step-father hurt her. I don't remember if she said he was beating her or something worse, I don't remember now and it makes me feel a little sick. Of course I believed her. I stayed on the phone with her til all hours and I got in trouble, giving her the ear she didn't have.
That I thought she didn't have. Turns out it wasn't true, though I didn't listen to anyone but her for a long time. Of course they'd believe her step-dad right? She told me about how she was going to culinary school and living on her own, about this life she was living. And I believed her. Of course I believed her.
Til the lies unraveled. She'd never gone to so much as community college. She was living with her boyfriend in his mom's basement. Her brother told me about how what she said about her step-father couldn't be true because of all the things that were wrong with the story, the places and times that couldn't possibly be. She'd been lying to me the whole time, and for no reason I could think of. I was half a continent away, and ever sympathetic. She was like blood to me, and had lied to me about everything.
So. I cut off contact with her. I had to, because I couldn't trust her. The only thing I ever ask for is the truth, for honesty. And she knew that. She used that. I couldn't deal with that.
I think maybe somewhere toward the end, before I shut her out, she started to have a breakdown. The world caved down around her, alone, and I couldn't care because I hurt too much. She got better, as time went on (at least as far as I know from her mom to my mom to me). She got married, at some point, to a decent guy.
I didn't get better, not like that, not so quickly (as if that could be called quick). It took me a hell of a long time to forgive her. To not be angry every time I heard her name. I deleted all her voicemails, didn't read her emails. It took me a long time to let go. Mostly let go. According to my parents it isn't really forgiveness if it still hurts. Although I did friend her on MySpace when she requested it. Its not like I hate her.
I just don't know how to be around her. I have to listen to voicemails from her in bits because my brain just clicks somewhere else. I know its selfish. I know I'm being a coward. I kind of hate myself for it, I'm trying to work through it. I'm trying, with steps that seem to small even to me, but I can't seem to force myself to be better. To be the friend that I ought to be.
I haven't heard from her in a while. She leaves a message on my MySpace wall or whatever its called every once in a while. I haven't gotten a call from her in ages.
Last night David and I are walking to CVS to get his ADHD meds, and my phone rings. It was the sort of hour that I couldn't imagine who'd be calling me, and I see an unknown NJ number. Usually that means its a wrong number. I've got all my parents work numbers, all the cell phones, both my brother's phones, his girlfriend's phone and her dad's phone. Even in an emergency, it would have to wind up coming from something I recognize. I ignore it and we walk, trying to stay alive in the Texas heat and avoiding thinking about what we'll do if the TX res discount card doesn't work. I remember the call in the morning and listen to the voicemail.
Its her. Which at first means I'm not hearing anything and I have to play it again. Then I just can't believe it and play it again.
She gave birth to a baby boy. That day. And she called me. She was exhausted, enough so that most of the message didn't make sense because she was mumbling. She had a beautiful baby boy, was proud of him, gave all the details that everyone always asks for. And then started talking about how she wants us to be friends again, wants me to call her. She was under the weird impression that my phone was disconnected, despite the fact that she was leaving a voicemail.
Its like a kick in the gut. I'm happy for her, I am. I'm glad she's happy and send all my love to the little one. I'm proud of her, that she's come so far from whatever it is that happened before. She has a family and she has a home and she has a life.
And I'm such a dick because I'm too much of a coward to call her. I did send her a message, texted her that I'd sent a message. I'm a coward but I'm not a douchebag. She called me the same day that she had been in labor, I can at least send a message, neh? Even if its equal parts congratulations, apology that she thinks she has the wrong number for me, and explanation for why I'm not calling. Telling her that I could do messages online if she wanted. God I'm such a dick.
And part of it? Is definitely that dude. Someone I grew up with gave birth...
ETA: I'd like to point out that I wasn't exactly nice about cutting ties, that I didn't just quietly shut down and pull back. I recoiled like a whip, and while the memory is a blur, I'm fairly certain I let her catch as much of the cat-o'-nine-tails as I could without actually lashing out. I'm not a wronged saint, here. I'm not just self-depricating when I call myself a dick. Maybe you think its justified, and that's one thing. Doesn't change the fact that its a bitchy move to make.
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So, its time to go home. I don't close today, thank god. We've been busy as fuck.