I'm not like the girls that you've known, but I believe I'm worth coming home to.
Look, new icons! I keep meaning to change my LJ layout from the drab black-and-grey-and-yes-Brett-Anderson-album-themed layout to a flashy Friends-and-Lovers-Bernard-themed layout, but I look at LJ and get lazy and just leave people comments and don't update.
You may think this is not a travesty, but if I'm not writing in LJ, I'm not writing at all. And writing is what I do. Writing is what I major in. I have written 2 crap poems since my poetry workshop ended at the start of May, and just enough shit for my summer fiction writing class to get by. Granted, I use words good so I keep getting As on the stories, but I'm not really happy with them. I slept through class on Saturday, don't have it this week, and it is getting harder and harder for me to care about the work. I have to dream up a story that's due on the 14th, then start rewriting and fucking around and lengthening this story I wrote about some gay boiz that I have. And several journal entries, including this "dream journal" bullshit that I keep failing to do once a week.
I'm sleeping really weird hours again. I keep missing my pills so my IBS is acting up all the time and convincing me to eat less. That may be good or bad, I don't know. The sleep is bad because I stay up 24+ hours to make up for sleeping in the daytime, and then I sleep for like 16 and screw it all up again. And I'm still tired when I do get up. Then I start getting depressed and it is bad. Right now I am finding myself grinding my teeth and I don't even mean to. I have a ton of bruises on my body and scabs crusting from various weird injuries.
I went to Immanuel Hospital (where my mom works) on the orders of Dr. S. (new PCP) to see about this weight loss program they offer. Basically, you eat their entrees and shakes and snack bars and add some fruit & vegetables and NOTHING else. You go to weekly classes for support. And you lose weight, because it's all medical. I'm actually willing to try it, because I can only do things that are hideously structured, but Mom and Dad are really iffy. You have to pay for the classes & the food but I wouldn't be buying groceries so it would balance out. I don't know. I go to see a nurse for a fasting glucose rate and some other bloodwork next Tuesday morning. And that's a $94 appointment so I damn well better be doing it or it'll be for naught.
Smeg and I went to Love's Labour's Lost, the Shakespeare On The Green's other play, on Sunday night and it was even better than the first one. I don't know why I can't write about these things. So. Dead.
We got the basement cleaned (mostly Smeg's work, honestly) and I am currently cleaning my room. I just have to put some laundry away and rake & vacuum the carpet and my sanity will be completely restored. Thank god for that. I then need to clean the bathroom and the entire first floor is a literal disaster area. Dad shattered a giant glass bowl of fruit salad in the kitchen and there are still shards and spots of fructose, I'm sure, despite our cleaning with wet towels.
Smeg and I talked to him the other night about his raging Dad issues. The insane anger. The obsessive hoarding of money. The ridiculous raving. The fact he makes himself into a martyr for us. And he actually listened. I want him to go to therapy like I did and he actually MIGHT. Fuck knows, though. He's been better the past few days. I don't care if he never buys us anything again (his way of showing us love?) as long as he's happy and he shows that he loves us that way. (He doesn't understand that concept, if you are wondering why I sound like a princess suddenly. He really doesn't.)
Sconeborough 2007 should cheer me up, if I can keep from my usual panicking (and get my homework done this weekend):
Veer arrives at 4 PM on Tuesday, July 10th.
Chesh arrives at 8 AM on Wednesday, July 11th.
Sarah arrives at 6 PM on Wednesday, July 18th.
We will play, watch movies, hunt ghosts, shop, drive about, listen to noises, take pictures and generally have a grand ol' time. I love my girlz. <3
Yeah, well! There's an update. Maybe I'll write some fucking fiction later, who knows?
J.
You may think this is not a travesty, but if I'm not writing in LJ, I'm not writing at all. And writing is what I do. Writing is what I major in. I have written 2 crap poems since my poetry workshop ended at the start of May, and just enough shit for my summer fiction writing class to get by. Granted, I use words good so I keep getting As on the stories, but I'm not really happy with them. I slept through class on Saturday, don't have it this week, and it is getting harder and harder for me to care about the work. I have to dream up a story that's due on the 14th, then start rewriting and fucking around and lengthening this story I wrote about some gay boiz that I have. And several journal entries, including this "dream journal" bullshit that I keep failing to do once a week.
I'm sleeping really weird hours again. I keep missing my pills so my IBS is acting up all the time and convincing me to eat less. That may be good or bad, I don't know. The sleep is bad because I stay up 24+ hours to make up for sleeping in the daytime, and then I sleep for like 16 and screw it all up again. And I'm still tired when I do get up. Then I start getting depressed and it is bad. Right now I am finding myself grinding my teeth and I don't even mean to. I have a ton of bruises on my body and scabs crusting from various weird injuries.
I went to Immanuel Hospital (where my mom works) on the orders of Dr. S. (new PCP) to see about this weight loss program they offer. Basically, you eat their entrees and shakes and snack bars and add some fruit & vegetables and NOTHING else. You go to weekly classes for support. And you lose weight, because it's all medical. I'm actually willing to try it, because I can only do things that are hideously structured, but Mom and Dad are really iffy. You have to pay for the classes & the food but I wouldn't be buying groceries so it would balance out. I don't know. I go to see a nurse for a fasting glucose rate and some other bloodwork next Tuesday morning. And that's a $94 appointment so I damn well better be doing it or it'll be for naught.
Smeg and I went to Love's Labour's Lost, the Shakespeare On The Green's other play, on Sunday night and it was even better than the first one. I don't know why I can't write about these things. So. Dead.
We got the basement cleaned (mostly Smeg's work, honestly) and I am currently cleaning my room. I just have to put some laundry away and rake & vacuum the carpet and my sanity will be completely restored. Thank god for that. I then need to clean the bathroom and the entire first floor is a literal disaster area. Dad shattered a giant glass bowl of fruit salad in the kitchen and there are still shards and spots of fructose, I'm sure, despite our cleaning with wet towels.
Smeg and I talked to him the other night about his raging Dad issues. The insane anger. The obsessive hoarding of money. The ridiculous raving. The fact he makes himself into a martyr for us. And he actually listened. I want him to go to therapy like I did and he actually MIGHT. Fuck knows, though. He's been better the past few days. I don't care if he never buys us anything again (his way of showing us love?) as long as he's happy and he shows that he loves us that way. (He doesn't understand that concept, if you are wondering why I sound like a princess suddenly. He really doesn't.)
Sconeborough 2007 should cheer me up, if I can keep from my usual panicking (and get my homework done this weekend):
Veer arrives at 4 PM on Tuesday, July 10th.
Chesh arrives at 8 AM on Wednesday, July 11th.
Sarah arrives at 6 PM on Wednesday, July 18th.
We will play, watch movies, hunt ghosts, shop, drive about, listen to noises, take pictures and generally have a grand ol' time. I love my girlz. <3
Yeah, well! There's an update. Maybe I'll write some fucking fiction later, who knows?
J.