Food Om Nom Nom

I'm becoming worried on my eating status. I've started cutting portions and eating better which is, overall, a very good thing. I've gained weight, actually, and can manage to fit into my older jeans - the 6's. It turns out that fat is probably that new ass-muscle that I've been working out, bringing things away from my hips to make me not feel so disgusting.

But, when I'm alone. I don't eat. Most days when I'm alone, I'll eat nothing but granola bars (maybe two) and a lot of tea. That's it. When Mom is home and makes dinner, I'll have some small portions and eat some more the next day, if we have leftovers. I'll eat maybe half of normal restaurant portions, eat the rest the next day, ect. It's not a bad thing. I think. Well, the lack of eating entirely is. I've started eating about an hour and a half, maybe two, before I go to karate. I'd started getting dizzy.

This last weekend, I ate. I went out for sushi, ate lunch with my sister, had pizza with Jordan, things like that. We had food during the 4th of July (a holiday that was much better than expected, actually). That's when I'm with people. Alone, not so much. Without people asking me to eat, I just don't get hungry. It's not something that happens. I get caught up in cleaning or writing, maybe a series I was watching or timing when I can and cannot put my contacts in - Rosetta stone, maybe. Who knows, i just don't think of food.

Today, I had four cups of tea, about two cups of rice + broth, and two slices of toast with a little butter. It was delicious. I drank some water - have more waiting for karate and all that good stuff. I don't think I'm becoming anorexic? I'll eat when asked, I'll eat enough to be full. I take vitamins. Make my own food.

Maybe it's being cloistered up int he house like this. I'm thinking that when I can afford it, I'll fill up my tank, drive as far as I can get on half of it, and park somewhere soft, relaxing, and have my own personal little picnic. Maybe I'll even draw.

I just don't want to keep eating the same deep fried and sugared crap I had been. does this make sense? I'm not quite sure if any of it does.

Either way - I have a swim test for a lifeguard job coming up tomorrow. Tomorrow will be full of light and good for me foods.

Crude. I need to buy a bathing suit.

Hangovers and Relevations

Last night I drank way too much. The next morning after falling asleep at four in the morning, I woke up at nine and dragged my butt to karate. I almost passed out and/or vomited during the forty jumping jacks and the knuckle push ups. Ugh. I can't even imagine.

After coming home, though, I got hit by that big depressive 'what NOW?!' thing as usually after a night of hard drinking I tend to get into a funk and be an overall depressing and depressed person. It's always one of those days where the medication doesn't help, I don't know why. It just doesn't.

But! Today! I decided. I felt very alone, very upset. Ashley came over and helped me with it by sitting here, listening to me rant, and watching Heroes with my lame self. Before she made it over here, I came to the fantastic decision that, screw it, I will be getting to Virginia as soon as I can, even if Daddio is still in a hotel. I need to get out of here.

Now is when I have to talk to him about it, though, as my happy butt can't just drive up there without telling him. It's utter suckage.

This post has no other meaning than to write this out and put my emotions on paper. Rock on, my friends. Rock on.

Gay Boyfriend

After my parents divorced and my mother, sister, and I moved from out house, mom got this boyfriend. I guess he was nice enough although according to stories afterwards he was this total psycho. He wasn't bad to Kelsey and I, from what I remember. He'd buy us stuff, I guess to make sure the kiddies didn't verbally attack him to Mom and get him booted from her life.

It worked when he bought me a punching bag! From what I've heard, I've had violent tendancies and mood swings since I was nine years old. Before that I, apparently, smiled, laughed, played, and otherwise interacted like any kid. That says all sorts of fucked up things about what could've changed that but that's a completely different therapy session. Either way, he bought me a punching bag and set it up for me on the porch. It was one of those heavy duty, thick and black sorts, hung from the ceiling by this hardcore chain. He said it'd be a good way to get out my frustrated energies whenever I felt I needed to.

I never used it much, weirdly enough. If I had it now, totally, but back as a kid I'd get all but scolded for using it. My sister and I got into this big fight once about something completely stupid and I got so mad that I saw red stars infront of my eyes. Now in case no one knows, that's a Bad Thing. It means one is going to do one of two things: pass out or beat the mother-loving crap out of someone. I didn't pass out and luckily for my sister, I had that damned punching bag.

Instead of ending the fight with a fist to my little sisters face (again, something totally dumb, I completely mistreated that poor girl during our childhood and teen years; I'm surprised she forgave me and we became friends. i wouldn't have forgiven me), I went outside to the porch and started whaling on that thing. At fourteen, I had this bag the same style as the one in my dojo the black belts use swinging back and forth, denting a bit. Fourteen was two years after I dented a metal door at school by punching it in order to get in. Strong kid, yeah.

Mom came out and started getting mad because I had been "picturing [my sisters] face" on the punching bag and how it was wrong. Unlike most bad-asses my age, I didn't keep up with the punching but got mad at her instead. The punching bag was there so I could get out my anger! So what if I saw my sisters face - which I hadn't been. I had been seeing this black bag because I was messed up but not a total psychopath. When he'd installed the bag for me, her boyfriend specifically told me he purchased it for me so I would be able to take out my anger on something that would satisfy and help me. Looking back on it, I think he was the only one in my childhood/early teens who actively knew just how messed up my head was. Everyone else assumed it was anger at the divorce (although I had been told I was a freak by not showing any emotion throughout the entire ordeal) and anger problems in general.

Instead of getting in a second fight with my mother, I stormed to my room, closed, and locked the door. She didn't know about the lock-pick at the top of the door frame and pounded for a few minutes while my sister cried in the living room. She always cried a lot, more than I would admit to being something I did to her.

To this day I don't understand why it had been bad to hit that punching bag. Maybe if I hadn't been made to feel bad about getting violent at it, I wouldn't have hidden it all to myself. Maybe someone would have seen it earlier.

There's no grudges! Who wants to know their kid or niece or friend is violent and possibly dangerous? I wouldn't want to. It's hard thing to come to terms with. I still get violent urges to this day although they are, in my belief, well justified. You mess with my friends? You're damn straight I'll get up in your face. You touch my tit while I'm at a club? I will punch you and get those bouncers in your face.

But I have karate now! Also, medication. Not so much therapy but that comes next, when I get the money.

So this is my little story for the day, Blog. I'm not sure where it came from but there it is. Now I'm going to go play housewife, clean, and dance around to Aqua, Lily Allen, and Disney.

Until next time!

Editing

I never realized how many times I use the word 'had' and 'was' in my writing until I began to edit my own pieces. I generally avoid doing so and prefer others to do it for me (such as in workshops). The current short story I'm working on needs some major revisions. I'd written it over a year ago and figured I could take on the challenge of discovering just how much I suck.

Sentences have been cut and surprisingly few words added. I tend to assume that more words equal better works and, well. No. Is it odd that I do exactly what I berate others for when I take pen to their writing? I'm finding the same comma errors and superfluous words in my short stories I tend to threaten other writers with death with! Is it being blind to ones own flaws or thinking certain things are perfect in pieces an author takes pride in?

I'm not sure. Maybe I'll never be sure. All I know is that this particular bit of dyke literature will be better once I'm done ripping it to shreds with my red mighty pen and send it off to be looked at by a friend. It'll be this works - fourth? Fifth? run through the proverbial shredder. Hopefully this time I might be able to consider it 'done' or at least as close as it's going to get.

A lofty (and arrogant) goal, yes, but what am I going to do without them? I do love the piece I'm working on and hopefully others don't think it's some pompous lesbian stereotypical angst. Cliche is cliche for a reason and I'm doing my damnedest to steer away from it.

Back to work. Until next time!

Bull, Horns, Ect,.

A good portion of people think horoscopes are full of bullshit. They're generalized, they don't really work, how can the planets say something about you, personally, etc., and it's come to my attention that I don't give a flying butt on what other people think of them. For myself, I believe in horoscopes, Tarot cards, the whole she-bang. Ninety-nine percent of psychics are fraud but then again, I told a kid someone was dying when his mother had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer in the eighth grade because the cards told me. I had never seen the boy before.

Lately, my horoscopes and Tarot cards have been giving me a rather specific message: get your life together and DO something about it.

On behalf of the Tarot cards, I asked them a while back the typical single-girl question of "Give me the low down on my lack of love life, please?". Usually when I ask things about myself, they like to tell me to go figure out myself, bugger off, and stop asking questions. That particular time, they told me that I am going to be alone for quite a while, go through a time filled with darkness and pain all alone and lost even when surrounded by people, and in the end it would leave me happy with a lot of paths opening up to me. I'm pretty sure this is the time of alone and lost and darkness because, whoo, my brain is not exactly the nicest place in existence but it gives hope that the crap times will end at some point.

The horoscope's have been telling me I've stopped taking control of my life and falling complacent. Too true - being laid off and strung along by the jobs (oh yeah, both of them) threw me into a clusterfuck of 'what now'. The only physical thing in life keeping me grounded right now is karate and when my three paid months come to an end in August, I don't know if I'll be able to afford more. That'll be super fun.

Every sign I'm getting says I have to DO something, CHANGE something. I have to find something to jump at and do it. Problem is that whatever's out there, I totally don't see it. The plan has been to move in with Dad but he doesn't have his own place in Virginia yet and I have about two hundred and fifty dollars in the bank period, with an insurance payment coming out in two weeks and another car payment coming up. Can't move anywhere, there are no job opportunities in this freaking place anywhere. What, exactly, am I supposed to do?

The more I write this the more I realize this is the talk of someone whose worst choices came from within and not from an outside source. So many people don't have choices on what drastic things change in their life, either from being thrown out of their homes, fired without notice, or, hell, shot in the back of the head when things get nasty. My problems have all stemmed from mental illnesses and if not for the support of those around me, I wouldn't be here anymore. There's no background, to me, on what to do or how to say it.

Maybe I'll edit a story of mine, throw it out there to see if anyone in interested. Kelly is ten times more talented than myself but seeing someone I know (and adore dearly, major hearts for Kelly) get published and go out there again is inspiration. Maybe I'll go to Virginia and chill out with Dad in his hotel, find a job there doing something. Maybe Vancouver, although I can't get any jobs out there just yet.

Maybe in learning Japanese, I'll meet a nice person from Japan and be whisked away to Tokyo or a small town or something. Who knows.

Nothing will get done unless I DO something, right? Right. Until next time!

Surviving Work

I need to understand the mindset of people in charge of offices and I need to do it fast. My two previous half-finished rants were written in the heat of anger and discarded as soon as I realized I was being a huge grouch. This particular upset is something that has been a long-time irritation of mine and something I beleive everyone working in the retail business with less than straightlined bosses can identify with.

The key to running a smooth office is akin to keeping up a good relationship: communication. In this case, I am scheduled to be laid off from my office job and have been told my usual summer job at the hardware store won't be needing me. I spoke to Bossman at the office job; in lieu of my root canal, he said to take of Monday (yesterday) and I asked him to call me over this previous weekend to tell me whether or not he wanted me in this upcoming week.

I worked seventeen hours this weekend for the last time at the hardware store. As far as I know, I never received a call or text message from the Bossman or Bosslady, my supervisor who works directly under him. According to her, she called me once yesterday morning and sent a text -asking where I was-. I don't doubt her as I am still getting used to my Droid and have yet to figure out all this notification mumbo-jumbo that's associated with it. So, I set up an interview with an ice cream place and a day of typical jobless relaxation before the panic set in.

Oh. I also signed up for unemployment. While not something I wanted to do, I saw it as a sign of Doing What I Need To In Order To Survive and thus a sign of maturity. My first summer after being laid off I was too proud to go back to the hardware store or sign up for unemployment. If I had done either of those things, my bank account probably wouldn't be in the shambles it is today. It guaranteed me enough to pay for food, gas, car, and cars insurence, which is all I really give two craps about. My other bills are secondary, frankly, mainly because my mother is affected by any lack of payment on aforementioned car.

This morning, another text message. As I was about to head into the dentist to get my temporary filling inspected (part of it sloughed off yesterday, much to my panic), I got another call from my lovely Bosslady. I sent her a text asking what was up and explaining why I didn't call her back just that second. The resulting conversation frustrated me to no end.

In an effort to not explode on her via text message, I sent another to a coworker of mine. We share the same opinion on Bosslady, he's just a wee bit more vocal about it than myself. He suggested I text Bossman, asking if they needed me in that day because he hadn't talked to me about it previously and being me, I was very confused.

According to Bossman, no, they did not need me today. They had two other people coming in. He -did- make a point of asking me if I could come in tomorrow. Fabulous. Twenty-four hour notice is all I ask, really. Luckily for them, I am unemployed (technically) so why yes, I -can- go in tomorrow. How thoughtful to ask instead of calling me at ten in the morning tomorrow and demanding to know where I was and when I was getting my candy ass in to work.

What seems to be lacking in this whole situation? You've got it, folks! What's missing from this is actually -talking- to one another. It's quite the novel concept and in this day in age it's so very hard to get in contact with one another. FaceBook, text messages, instant messages, phone calls, and plain ol' chit-chatting in the office just doesn't cut it, not really. It's all about the slap-and-dash things, demands, and angry phone messages.

This isn't a post about surviving retail although I wish it were. This post and rant is all about surviving bosses and the frustration they bring, especially when on the larger scale of things they aren't the meanest of people. Bossman has his moments of being a dillweed, this I'll be the first to aknowledge. For the rest of it, he's just a bit absent minded (or chooses not to remember) and an overall nice guy with a few repressed issues. Bosslady tends to be the stereotypical Italian Jersey woman and is not very fun to work with.

It's a balance. I've gotten to the point in my working career where I've gotten used to the constant push and pull of emotions. When bossman is angry, you avoid him like the plague. Bosslady gets yelled at, you avoid her or compliment her shoes. It's what goes on in a small office without cubicles or secrets. It sucks.

Once more for the sake of being redundent: communication. Bosses out there - learn it. Employees - don't ever expect it. They're easier to deal with than customers but ultimately last a lot longer.

Until next time.

Absolutely Nothing Worth Talking About.

But I will anyway. This blog is to document things, right? So they'll be documented, whether they're interesting or not.

Ashley and I will be doing a comic based on my short stories. She wants to do an entire series as I have about four of them in my head. One is already finished (The Little Mermaid), another is being written (Little Red Riding Hood), and Beauty and the Beast is entirely written in my brain. Rumplestiltskin is forming as is an original fairy tale. None of them will be NC17 although they'll involve nudity and, for some, dirty thoughts. Especially Riding Hood. Claude (the wolf) is something of a Sick Bastard.

Ashley's art is lovely; I have the upmost faith in her ability to portray the stories correctly. As i will be overseeing production and the stories, this quality will be assured. The short things were never meant for publication so I have no qualms on them being displayed to the public.

Linking will occur when we have it up and running, of course.

That's pretty much the only thing worth talking about. Everything else in life is mundane, right down the continued use of soy milk instead of Milk milk, Daddio enjoying his job, and being able to-

OH. I've been drawing again! Expect pictures. I like them.

Until next time and hopefully a longer post!