Promises? HA!

I'm making no promises on update frequency at this point; it's been almost a year and a half since I last posted and that is just fine with me. Virginia is good. I have my own place. It is full of dishes but I plan on taking care of that today. Reason I'm starting this up again after almost a year is that I have... 18.9lbs to lose again. It took me a long time to lose that 60lbs, like hell am I going to gain it back. I'm getting older (not old, thank you) but the older I get, the harder it's going to be to keep it off and stay in shape. I'm hoping this blog will make me hold myself accountable. The first five need to be gone by this time next week. Which brings me to the idea of when the hell did food become the enemy? I found myself thinking, "Ugh, food" this morning when I woke up because I knew that food could lead to the weight, that even working out couldn't make me lose it if I ate the incorrect foods or the wrong amounts. A week and and I'm already counting calories and making myself feel bad for eating what isn't right or for not working out. I need to become happy about exercising again and I need to gain control of my eating habits. That's what this is about. Not calories. I want to fit into my pants again, damnit. So here we go. Last Friday, I was 149.9lbs. Next Friday, I will be 144.9 lbs or less. This will be a thing. I'm making sure of it.

Fffff, lord.

Why do I keep abandoning this thing? I think I need to make it my homepage or something. Post every day, or something equally ridiculous.

Since February, life has changed. A lot. By a bunch.

First and foremost? I was promoted to Property Manager, and will be taking over once the current PM leaves in mid-July. This means that I have my own apartment, two bedrooms, washer/dryer, kitchen, that whole she-bang. It'll be right on property, and actually connected to the office. This, of course, means I will wake up every day at 9.10AM and be at work by 9.30AM. Dressed. With coffee.

As one can tell, I am motherfucking psyched.

I've actually started packing already. What I know of the situation is that it will be early-to-mid August in the moving part of it all, so that gives me a month. Ish. I need to talk to Bossman about the exact dates, but nevertheless, those are the rough estimates. So I'm packing up the non-essential items and tucking them away in my bedroom. The hope is to rent a unit at my future property andmove things over there, little by little, so that when the day of moving comes, all I'll have is my bed and ... well, that's it. A small suitcase of clothing, my bed, my snake, and the larger items that won't fit into my car like my desk.

I'm excited.

So excited.

Second note - I will be visiting Florida in the first week of August. Originally, Ashley was supposed to come up and visit me, but plans changed and somehow I ended up with a surprise ticket to Florida. We will be going to see the Harry Potter movie, go to a theme song, I'll see my mom and sister and Don again, along with some Florida friends... I'm excited. I like the life I've made up here, but I miss a lot of people down there.

I've started dating again. Nothing serious, but I'm trying. That's pretty much the only thing I have to say about it at the moment.

Not going out anymore. Stuff happened. Also only thing I'm going to say about it.

I've started writing again, as well! And drawing! I've actually been on quite the roll lately - short stories vomiting themselves everywhere, pictures being doodled in long-forgotten sketchbooks. Maybe stress relief outside of coffee is a good thing for the creative process. Either way, I'm pleased with how things are going in the creativity department.

I'll be trying to keep up with you again, blog, O readers. It's hard to remember sometimes, but I'll try.

Until next time!

Ending it.

So I've been trying to decide how to end the blog. It was only supposed to be over the course of a year, a take-down of my life as I tried to regain some sort of control over my own future. Instead of going to California, I ended up staying in Florida until August and, in August, moved to a state that I only thought about when watching 'Pocahantas' - a cold state, filled with horrible traffic and not a single person I knew.

While here, I grabbed a job, I made friends. Good friends, I think. I realized just how much I still had to learn about myself and that in order to do it, I have to step away from the familiar. For the first time in a long time, I finally began to grow up, whether or not anyone could see it, myself included.

When January rolled around and time to end the blog came, I tried to figure out how to end it all. January 2nd was going to be the last day, my 24th birthday. It happened to be the single most miserable birthday I've ever experienced, and I'm including the ones from 9-19 when I was an undiagnosed bipolar disordered person.

I posted nothing, because I couldn't decide what to say. This blog was never popular, only one or two people reading when I made a new post, and that never bothered me. The purpose of this, other than documenting it for myself, was to keep my family in touch with what I was doing in this new place, and how I was doing - Mom, especially, and Ashley.

Mid-January rolled around, and along came the birthday of my best friends late-father, Mr. Larry. He once told me that life itself is an adventure, and that while he loved me, I was doing no one any favors by holing myself up from the world. He said, I was the best friend his daughter had (because boys who were friends would later leave for other girls), I needed to encourage her to grow up along with me, and she would do the same.

He passed away when I was in the depths of my depression, on the verge of suicide. I didn't make it to his funeral, so consumed by my own grief of his passing, and my inability to cope with anything beyond lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I've never forgiven myself for that.

I like to think Mr. Larry has. Forgiven me, that is. I hope my friend has; we rarely talk about him.

On his birthday, I realized I wasn't ready to put away this blog; it contained a turbulent year of my life, something outside of the depression and the small bubble I kept myself in. Things happened, things changed, I got caught up on bills, of all things. I may be moving out, depending on work circumstances - I may be moving back to Florida, or Wisconsin, or to anywhere I damn well feel like going.

This year is a changing year for reasons outside of last year. My 23rd year on this Earth was taken up by discovery of, damn, I can do things. My 24th started off horribly, and I'm hoping will be filled with discoveries of myself, not just being able to complete things in my life.

So, O Reader(s), there will be another year of this blog. I'm hoping to update more frequently, with more things now going on in my life. Fingers crossed that this year will improve the same way that last year did (Car accident = no Cali = Virginia, Horrible birthday = GOOD YEAR, darnit).

Until next time, with new updates, with new awesome.

Yours.

Oh, holy crap

I missed the one year mark? Holy shizznit on a pogo stick! I thought today was the one year mark but... Well, my memory was never anything awesome to begin with.

So, blog, it's been a year. I started out on December 10th making the decision I would move to California and in with a friend. Since then, I've been in a car accident, was unable to move, was dumped by friend, saw Beth, cleaned my room, was laid off from both jobs, became depressed and poor with unemployment, moved to Northern Virginia, got a job I like, met people I like, and ended up crushing hard on a girl I like.

I didn't end up in northern Cali - I ended up in NoVa. Everyone I knew except for my dad are miles and miles away, I have a job at a place I never even thought I would. It's been crazy. I'm not even sure what to do with myself at this point or what to think.

It almost feels normal. The place we're living in doesn't feel like home but each day I drive to work, confident in my ability to drive to work without a GPS. Someone says, 'it's right off Machen' and I know what they mean. I have a social life, one outside of the internet and with people I met all on my own.

Bills still aren't getting paid on time but I'll get there. The important ones - car insurance, car payment - those are. My student loans are (I think).

I'll be posting every day until January 1st, O Blog. It's time to start kicking this up and finish with a bang.

Aka, I'll start writing actually funny stuff as opposed to things about my day-to-day life. Who knows. Maybe it'll be something worth reading.

Two Reasons

When moving, everyone faces some doubts, right? Is this worth it, what's going to happen, oh, fucking christ, what if I blow it? Things like that. Cold feet, they would call it in the world of marriage. While I often face those doubts, when my mind is made up, I go for it, and usually no one can keep me from going through with it. I'm told it's a very Capricorn trait (along with being a bitch, a prude, money-loving, and domineering).

I almost stayed in Florida for the dojo and had Jordan asked me to stay, I would have never left. The fact makes me sad now because then I would have never met the people I did in Virginia and they're fabulous people but when I went to visit the Dojo Wednesday, Shihan gave me a loaner gi and asked me to go to classes while in town.

Today was the first class available (Thursday night was dinner with mother and sister), a 9am thing with Shihan. I woke up at 7.50 by my own accord (which is odd - my alarm never even went off) and went in a gi that didn't feel like mine and having forgotten half the moves.

Gods, I forgot how much I love that dojo. The minute I walked in, people recognized me. I had been friends with some of the kids and so immediately, a purple belt accosted me. We don't know each others names in the dojo, for he most part, but we knew each other. He was excited to see me and vice versa. Then came the brother and sister duo I am totally apeshit over. They flipped out as well, I went spazztic and basically told them they would see me once a year so they better learn to kick some ass. Cool kids.

Class hurt. I almost passed out near to the end, not to mention the anger felt at realizing I had forgotten my kata. I can handle forgetting moves but my kata?! I'd been so proud to learn red belt kata and I forgot it. Jesus. Ugh.

Either way, earlier, before I moved, I almost stayed to keep going to that dojo. I hated almost everything about my life in SW Florida, had no job until September, late September, no money, no social life outside of two friends, but I had my dojo. Shihan, Sensei, and my sempai's - they were all the best part of my week. I could groan and gripe about going and sweating and becoming disgusting before getting there but the moment I stepped into the springboard dojo ground, all grumpy disappeared. I love it, I love the punching, the kicking, how my muscles scream during, the concentration, the structure, how the teachers just want you to do the best you are able to and not focus on just being the best.

It's hard to find a good dojo and I left them. I almost stayed for them. My goodbye and last class were rough.

Had Jordan asked me to stay, my visit to Virginia would have been just that - a visit. Instead, we drank on my last night, she told me to go, hugged me, told me to go again, to find someone to love, find a job I loved, to be awesome. To not stop writing. She told me that she would try to come over the next morning and bid me a further ado (or text me if she couldn't) but she didn't. I always figured she forgot, which is fine. We'd been drinking, after all.

I'd been reminded of this in coming here. What fail. Jordan and I haven't talked much - just for an hour or so before I had to run to Harry Potter. I think I'm seeing her tomorrow? And Meggie. haven't been able to get a hold of the Megs.

Florida, all in all, has been fun. Packing is to be had on Monday but - whatever. That's Monday. Today is sushi with Ashley, grabbing some boxes, some serious Avatar watching, and then her sisters play afterwards. Today will be a good day even if I have to shove good cheer down someones throat.

Maybe pictures when I get back to Virginia, maybe not. Hopefully another post before I scramble back to the place of Cold As Hell.

Dear lord, this has been way too long

I've actually written this out about ten times before I actually type it out. Sad thing is that I haven't actually written this out by hand - the rest of them are all going to waste. What happened, may you ask?

Unemployment sucks for things to discuss. I did not want to delve into awesome things of the past anymore, nor did I want to talk about what a miserable time I was having at not having a job. But! The very last day of September, I started my current job and things sort of... exploded.

Going from waking up at one in the afternoon and doing absolutely nothing all day to getting up at six am and working forty hours a week is - well, let's just call it 'jarring', to say the very least. Mind you, I rather enjoy my job despite all the pitying looks people give me when I say that.

Yes. I enjoy my job. For the most part, the customers are awesome, the pay doesn't suck, I will get benefits (even if they will take a while), and it's possible that I will get a place to stay if I get promoted. It's no ideal, it is not what I want out of life, and if I stay there for a few years, so what? I'll get my education and I am still planning to go back to Florida to get the certification for editing and publishing. The worst part of the job are those looks, the ones that ask, well, why do you enjoy this? You poor girl, you like this so much. All of those things.

Granted, the job includes old men and delivery guys asking me out on dates or to parties but hey, whatever.

On that note: I am not 'out' at work. That's all I have to say on the subject.

With the social life front, things are fantastic. Not everyone is as thrilled as I am at the turn of events but, hot darn, I have me some friends. I met them through National Novel Writing Month so there's always the chance I may not see them frequently, if at all, after the month is over but I would like to toss my eggs into a basket for a bit. It sounds like a good basket to throw them in.

I'm not really sure if I should use names or pretend names or whatever in this journal. I don't think any of them know about the blog and if they'd appreciate being named in it. It isn't as if I'm about to start flinging mud at anyone but, to be on the safe side, I'm just going to refer to them by things that remind me of them.

There's Synopse, a totally wickedly awesome girl who knits and crochets and doesn't mind me having no clue what it is despite multiple explanations. We get along quite well and tomorrow she is going to (supposed to be) chill out with me for a few hours tomorrow night after the write in. She's quite the awesome cat. There is Herd of Boys, only one of which I can see myself hanging out with on a semi-regular basis. They tend to get very intense while in discussions, to a level I don't even see at most anime conventions. That said, if someone punched me in the throat, they may get a bit upset. There is ML, who is just badass all around and I was going to call 'Handwarmers' but realized I may confuse her with Synopse. ML is perhaps one of the coolest moms I've ever met in my age group, she's funny, super nice, and it takes a LOT to shock her. I dig it. There is Pixie and Pixie 2, two girls who have known each other for years and it shows. They're funny, very cuddly girls. And they drink! I miss drinking. There is Netbook, Science, and Handwrite as well, but I don't see them as often.

I went out to this big town center place on Thursday with Synopse. We wandered around the ice rink, grabbed some food and then chilled out in this French bakery ... place. It had yummy pastries and while we meant to write, we ended up gabbing the entire time. It was fun to just sit around and talk and have fun, get used to the cold and bounce around with it.

Saturday night was the Night of Writing Dangerously - we hit up George Mason U to write for a few hours. Homemade truffles were dispersed, words were written. Synopse and I got into a foot war that ended in a deadlock and at the end of the night, I was running around in jeans, a tank top, arm warmers, and a hat. It was truly awesome.

Tomorrow night is my last write-in here in Virginia and then I fly into Florida on Wednesday to hang out with people, pack up my stuff, and get back up here. My early December paycheck will suck so hard it's ridiculous but I've MISSED those guys. And my pets. And the people there.

I'm horribly excited. The only downside is that it means no more write-ins with the new people. But! I have either their cell numbers or IMs or both so it means our happy butts can keep in touch. Someone suggested during the NWD that we have semi-regular meetups and see what goes down, see if we can keep writing, etc, etc.

Long story/post short? Life is getting better. I'm meeting people, working, paying bills. It means not as much time online as I used to be but - really, that's not a bad thing. People on and offline have been telling me to get a life for years now. I just finally have the opportunity.

I WILL be posting soon, hopefully while in Florida.

Until next time!

New Job, More Thinking About Stuff.

A friend and I were talking about five minutes ago. She just made cupcakes for her roommates birthday tomorrow - I think tomorrow? At some point in the future. I mentioned I'd always wanted a surprise party. It's been brought up once or twice among friends back in Florida and while I don't remember all of the reactions, I do recall Ashley looking at me doubtfully and saying, "Well, Erin, you're the party planner of the group."

I hoped anyway. Maybe that was a clever decoy! Or, you know, that was the way I was told it was never going to happen. I think I'm the only one dumb enough to plan a party over a month and a half in advance - Andi's was almost a year in planning. Party in a van, man. Party in a van. It wasn't disappointing, not really. I had been warned, after all. Still, I brought it up each year near to my birthday (and Christmas but, really, my birthday is cooler than Jesus).

Moral of that weirdly emo story: if anyone had been planning on throwing me on for my 24th, they wouldn't have a choice now. I won't be in Florida for my birthday. Andrea is in Wisconsin. Chances are I won't make (good) enough friends by January 2nd to throw me a birthday party. I see a quiet dinner with Dad and sitting up alone on my computer after he goes to bed at 9pm.

JesusAllahBuddhaLakshmi, that's depressing.

I miss Jordan, I really do. Out of all the friends I've made in my life, she was the one I've connected to the quickest. We met through my ex, Birdie, and at a party. Almost instantly we got along and I would have probably flirted if Birdie hadn't gotten rather intoxicated and done stupid things. We started texting the day after the party (after a delicious brunch with another girl from the party) and on finding out she lived so close, we hung out constantly. Most of our nights together ended with meaningful conversations on her countertop, either eating one dollar microwave pizza or five dollar fresh pizza from the Domino's down the street.

Before my move, Jordan was my saving grace. She gave me something of a life outside of my standard circle, encouraged me to keep writing and be more outgoing, be more me. She always had nice things to say, some so nice I don't feel like writing them down here because of how special they are to me.

I miss her. I need a Virginia-Jordan. I need someone who gets me almost instantly, who will listen to my inane theories and methods and counter them with their own. My stupid tiers were thrown asunder the moment I left Florida.

Work starts October 1st. It sounds as if I will be working with a variety of people (in five locations), which will be fun! I'm rather terrified of starting this new job just, out of the blue, with no one there I've ever met but it will be an adventure. Maybe someone will be around my age or know places I could go to actually meet flesh and blood people. There's always the possibility of making friends if only for the fact I will be getting out of the house and meeting people.

This entire post has been nothing but a huge emofest. My apologies, O Readers! I've been preoccupied with grumpy things and being excited over my mother visiting - I'll be able to see her this weekend! She's going to Washington D.C., and we're meeting up at Union Station. Hopefully we'll be able to stay up late to gab or. Something. I don't know. There will be crying?

Who knows. Until next time!

GNARFUNKLE

JOB INTERVIEW.

TOMORROW.

2PM

WORST UPDATE EVER, JUST SAYIN'.

SO BAD IT ISN"T EVEN GETTING TAGS NOPE DERP DERP

So once, I punched a guy.

I'm not exactly sure what made me think of it but, once, at a club I punched this guy in the chest. He deserved it like no ones business and I was slightly (very) inebriated but I still see it as a personal triumph on my end. As early as eight years old, I was a bully - it lasted until I was fourteen(ish) and I can still scare the ever living guts out of people if I feel the need. It's a very handy skill.

At the time, I was still talking to my ex-girlfriend. We'll call her Birdie for the sake of semi-privacy. Birdie was very into the club scene and I was very into Birdie. We'd had a bad breakup due to severe miscommunication and once we started talking again, the idea was never brought to a light again. She didn't like commitment, I think, and we lived a fair distance away. For her, that was a big deal. I'd had long distance relationships apart and didn't consider an hour too far but I digress.

She asked me to go clubbing with her one night. Saturday night so we were able to get some super cheap drinks. We pre-gamed it in the parking lot. I am a light weight. So two chugged hard lemonades, a few rum and cokes later, I actually agreed to dance. Anyone who knows me knows quite well that I will only dance when severely intoxicated or when alone in my house, dressed in a wife-beater and bandanna with the grungy pants. This dancing fell under stinking ass drunk.

As such, and being with a girl who showed many signs of being interested, the dancing was suggestive. We ended up kissing in the corner by the bar which, in itself, was fabulous. A guy had followed us from the dance floor, I think, as I'd seen his shirt briefly when we'd left it. He walked up to us, interrupting a very nice time, and started spouting stupidity.

"Are you two lesbians?" said the drunk frat-looking boy. Birdie and I looked at each other and started laughing. Birdie reply was something to the affirmative (I was watching her mouth and thus not listening very hard). He made some crude innuendos. I took offense because those words I do tend to hear.

I am a very protective person when sober, going as far to threaten someone if they are going too far and crossing lines. Someone gets in a friends face, I get right back into them. My mentality is that of a pack and when I see something as a threat to aforementioned pack, I'm very aggressive.

"Look, dude, she's here with me. Go away." My speech, admittedly, was littered with a few naughty words in there as well. I pulled Birdie closer. The guy was a creep. His friend urged him to just leave us alone and even tried to pull him away. Go friend!

The guy said something else and all of a sudden I felt a hand grab my chest. As Birdies arms were around my waist and she knows my boundaries. I knew full well that even when drunk, she wouldn't do something as violating as to touch me. A man arm was attached to the hand on me.

I spun around. All I remember was my right hand swinging out and clocking the guy square in the chest. He stumbled back, I pushed Birdie away enough to walk those few steps to him and glare. He was a lot taller than my 5'5" frame, hence the punch to the chest rather than the face.

"Don't you EVER touch me EVER again!" My voice, admittedly, was very loud. He stared down at me with the best expression in the world: utter disbelief. All of a sudden, I see a half circle of huge men with the word 'BOUNCER' written on their shirt. Their eyes weren't on me but the guy I continued to yell at. "If you so much as lay a hand on me OR her EVER again, I will kick your ASS."

The bouncers moved closer. Birdie grabbed my hand and tugged, hard. She said we should leave, her hand wrapped around my wrist tightly. I didn't want to end up getting arrested for assault as, let's be honest, I would have won any fight between him and myself, so we left. The last I saw of the guy was the crescent of bouncers narrowing in on him. The photographer asked for our picture before we left.

I hold that memory as a very fond one. Sometimes I miss being a violent little creature but all it takes to bring me down from that particular road of nostalgia is to remember that I had no friends, no real motivation to be a better person. The club let me know that standing up for myself and the people I am with at the moment is not a bad thing and can be done without being physically cruel. I can silence people with a Look as easily as I can a punch to the face and my weapons now are scathing words, a harsh glare, and the ability to out-think my opponent.

Moral of the story, kiddies? Violence isn't always the right path but don't let that knowledge keep you from protecting you and yours.

Also, clubs would rather punish a possible sexual harassment lawsuit than the two lesbians making out in the corner.

Neglect, neglect, neglect.

Poor journal, I've left you high and dry. You'd think since no life or job exists for me, I'd be able to post more. Thing is - with my life the way it is, there's very little for me to post about until after or before the weekends.

Weekends are when my dad is home all day and we actively go out and do things. No matter what I act like, I actually have a lot of fun. Sometimes during the day after we haven't eaten for a while, my blood sugar absolutely plummets and it leaves me either grumpy. If we're driving past a lot of green things, I stare out the window because, hello, Florida doesn't have green like this place has.

Have I posted pictures of this freaking green? ... No?

GREEN!

It's a rare thing, folks. Not so much here but for a Florida girl? Totally.

I was just told that apples are now in season. I think it's time for me to try to go with that interest I've always had with more extensive baking. Poor Daddio may soon be bombarded by a slew of apple-related deliciousness, especially apple pie. No home made crusts, just yet - the last time was an utter disaster and the money needed to purchase those ingredients just aren't in my pocket book.

That leads into Thanksgiving. It's right around the corner! Last year I was unable to make my fragging pumpkin pie I'd been looking forward to. I had forgotten the condensed milk at home with no way to get to the market. Pie crust and home-smashed pumpkin puree gone to waste. If the summers apple pie turns out to be a success, I may attempt to do that this year as well as the pecan pie as my pies are delicious, thanks, and just put together a smaller portion of sweet potato casserole than I usually do.

I think I've lost weight since coming to Virginia. Sounds odd but things are fitting better, shirts drape nicer than before. I haven't been exercising a lot (read: at all) but maybe not living right next to two gas stations and a neighborhood Wal-Mart may have something to do with my milder eating habits. If this is the case, awesome. I don't mind losing weight/inches if it's because I'm not eating like a candy-starved piglet anymore.

I miss karate.

Hells bells, I miss writing and the ability to draw properly. Being stuck inside because I lack any social graces isn't helping. I'm tempted to invade Dad's campus and just wander, go to the bookstore or library, chill in the cafeteria and eat there, try to write. I write well in public.

Okay. Werewolf story will be finished by the 15th, it is decided. So there.

Until next time, readers!

Hello, September!

I've worked myself into a steady and yet erratic daily schedule. I'm not exactly sure how that happened. It usually involves waking up around nine thirty or ten, stumbling out of bed in order to see if any caffeine has been brewed up. After a cup or two, I reach some semblance of normality and collapse in front of my computer.

E-mail is checked. The next few hours are spent slugging caffeine down my gullet, chatting online with various people, and applying for as many jobs as I can possibly muster. Unfortunately, most of the jobs I've encountered in the last twelve hours require cover letters. That takes up half of my day. It's kind of sucky but like Kelly said - it's can be the difference between death and job.

Daddio comes home around two thirty, three in the afternoon. We either chill around the house doing various things and watching such-and-such shows on the television and I continue to chat online and apply for jobs. It makes my brain hurt. Somedays we go out to explore or eat! It wakes us both up.

Bedtime is usually done around two in the morning and the entire thing starts right back over again. I've began to do Rosetta Stone again (feeling like such a newbie because I've forgotten a few things) and every so often attempt to write or draw but I'm just not feeling it. Maybe it's because I don't want to go outside in case I get accosted by the landlords brother again. Yes. Not son but brother, as in around the same age as my grandfather of a landlord. Gross.

I think I'm going to do Rosetta Stone for an hour every other day and put aside a half an hour (at least) towards editing and writing. Or writing. Who knows? I can get involved in a piece to the point where several hours pass and I run out of ink in order to do anything. My werewolf story isn't anywhere close to being finished and it needs to be. After all, the name of werewolves and sociopaths needs to be redeemed - can't have sparkles and guys in ripped short shorts ruining everything for the genre.

It starts tonight. I'll say it starts at three and I will be offline for at least half an hour while I edit. Rosetta Stone will be tomorrow. Editing/writing is more important than learning Japanese. Besides, people are home and I feel awkward practicing languages with others being able to listen. It's weird.

My expectations for employment have started to lower. I didn't want retail or anything because, well, I hate it. With a passion. A few places non-retail are hiring people with my (lack of) experience. When I expressed anger at being unqualified for the positions I wanted and the fact the only way to get it was unpaid internship (where I would be ineligible for unemployment because I was not available all hours of the day), someone pointed out that I was supposed to work full time to pay the bills while also doing an internship.

So, that's what I suppose I'll do. Get a job first and then a part-time internship. Kelly gave me a very useful site, where there are some internships that are only twenty hours or so a week. That's do-able. Even if I get a full time job, that's only sixty hours. I'd still have time to go out and volunteer at the local library as I wanted to when I first came here to Virginia.

Plan of attack is officially in place. I am excited. Even if the job is something I despise, at least I'll have other 'jobs' that I enjoy. It'll be alright.

Now, I go to edit. Until next time!

Today I found out why straight girls are such jerks to guys.

For the whole of my life, I always thought the girls who were absolute snobs to guys were the Bad Guys. There isn't really any sort of villain in this situation anyway but, heck - if I had known that being nice to a guy meant they were going to hit on you, I'd be a total jerk too. In Florida, we were raised to not be rude to people, no matter their color, sexuality, or where on the salary scale they fell. In the entire time in Florida, I never (to my knowledge) had a guy think I was flirting just because I wasn't being mean to him.

I mean - really? Now my landlords son thinks we're going to go on a date or, or something to the extent where he asked my father if it was okay for us to do that. Really. Really? It's very Southern Gentleman of him as Beth pointed out but JesusAllahBuddha, we talked for five minutes and in that span of time, he mentioned that he and other landlords son go bowling sometimes with friends and, since I knew no one in town, I should come with every so often. That's fine. A little bit awkward (especially after asking my age and telling me I wasn't a snob like the girls in Virginia) but I managed to get myself out of the conversation because I had defrosting mice in my bag and the newest Harvest Moon.

This blog is horribly short. I have more to tell about my first drive around Manassas, alone, and finding a few things around the town, but obligations are calling me away. I just had to express disbelief.

I forgot how much I hate unpacking.

Packing is fine. Packing is almost fun, when you get down to it. You get to crumble newspaper and shove things forcefully into boxes, leaving your room (usually) looking neat and tidy. Not so much with unpacking.

Unpacking involves taking out that fun newspaper, your floor covered with it, open boxes, too much confusion. At least it doesn't have a time frame, right? Right. Otherwise, standing in the middle of the room saying "I don't know. I just don't know what to do" would be a whole lot more stressful. As is, I don't have a job to flock to (that search starts again tomorrow morning) so I can spend the day chugging down coffee, cutting open boxes, putting things away, and, gloriously, setting up my beloved desktop, Fido. Those boxes being open and empty also means I have surfaces in which to put things, as Fido's monitor and Shreds are taking up the only two solid, flat places to put anything of importance. Shreds and the monitor are a hell of a lot more important than setting up my maneki neko collection, I'm sorry to say.

The day will consist of unpacking boxes and putting the room in some semblance of order - the night will have me dragging in the iron and it's board in order to take apart those carefully constructed piles of clothing, ironing everything, and hanging up what absolutely needs to be hung up. My business suits are already hanging but I can see even from my bit of floor that much of it is wrinkled from our cross-country journey and being rolled into an airtight bag.

I have too many jeans. How did I not realize I owned this many jeans??

Lists are being made on the places I need to know about and where, exactly, they are. I need to find out how to get back to that lovely, huge used book store and where I can get the best sushi. The library is crucial, even though I can't get a card due to my lack of state citizen ship. Places accepting employment, where I can print up further resumes. Where's the best local hair salon (is that teaching salon any good?), how do I get back to that 'Giant' sort of food store? Coffee shops? Locally owned ones, with sofa's and cool people, a place where I can sit and meet those around my own age (or mental group, whatever).

Where can I get the best tea?

But that's for later, when my room is set up. Concentrate on the small things first, get in order. Then the big things can be tackled.

Time for me to go finish the days chore, Blog. Until next time!

Holy snapapples in cucumber sauce

It's really odd that driving for a few hours exhausts a person more than wandering around a major city and museums for ten hours. I was asleep by this time last night, out cold in my new room. At that point in time, my knees and feet hurt. A lot. It probably had something to do with the fact I attempted to run on hardwood floor, and turn while running at that! I managed to land on my knees, computer intact, and the third roommate staring at me in horror from the table where she plugged away at her computer.

I, of course, burst into hysterical laughter.

We awoke around seven thirty in the morning for a fun-filled day of Washington DC, our nations capitol and all of that good stuff. My poor sister and father had to put up with me being a horrible cranky-face at them before I had any coffee or tea. They did well, being quite aware of my blood sugar issues, tea addiction, and the fact I hate waking up early.

We rode a train! The roommate gave us free passes both to and from DC, which is AWESOME because it would otherwise be almost nine dollars each person, each way. Talk about sucky, train. Boo to you. It was on the train that I began my list of 'Virginia has...' .

While heading to DC, I saw a suit on the train, playing with a white DS Lite. You heard me. Businessman, briefcase and all, was chilling on the train a few seats down tapping away at a little DS Lite. I had to laugh and immediately whipped out my notepad to write it down.

DC itself is - I don't even know. We were only visiting some of the museums, hitting up a few bits and pieces of it all. On a map, it looks horribly tiny. I've driven through counties bigger than DC! And yet, in person - museums as far as the eye could see!

We arrived just before ten in the morning (it takes about an hour and a half to get there from the house), hitting up the Museum of Native American history right away. I glee'd and frolicked gaily as the history of native tribes is one of the coolest things ever. There were truckloads of young children frolicking just as gaily as ourselves and about ten times louder so, sadly, we didn't stay too horribly long. I look forward to going back at some point and pouring over everything. The contents of that particular museum didn't interest my sister or dad save for the bits about warfare or history that my family had actually participated in.

Next up was the - I think it was called Space and Science Museum? There were airplanes and space crafts. History of flight, computers, all this confusing stuff that was way too advanced for my caffine deprived brain. I puttered around with them and, in return, they let me play around with the games in there probably meant for children but whatever, it was fun.

Third and last came the sisters oh, so uplifting pick of the Holocaust Museum. We didn't get all the way through this one because it was getting late and we'd been walking almost constantly all day, but it was very interesting. I will admit that out of the entire permanent exhibit of "The Holocaust" there were two mentions of homosexuals being taken and killed in those concentration camps - two! Just two. One was a sentence and a picture of a few homosexuals, the other a small sign and another picture. I saw nothing about Tibet in the 'current/recent genocide' section, although my sister claims she saw a sentence or something about it. So, slightly disgruntled. As for the exhibit itself, excellent! Highly recommended.

I was impressed with how they treated the history of the native people of America. They made no bones about how they were hunted down, villages slaughtered, women abused while their men were shot trying to protect them. It came across clearly that they still lived in reservations today, fighting for the rights to have their own government in the midst of all this... crud. Yes.

Guh. Tiredness has hit again. There is more to do, more to say, but tomorrow we're exploring caves and it's nearly midnight.

Until next time!

The hills have... hills.

After a few days of absolutely psycho activity and frantic packing, we managed to make it out of the hometown at 9.50 yesterday morning. And, er. Well. We drove.

Have to admit, Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina all pretty much look the same: flat and with a washed out sort of light pastel green. Both my sister and I were slightly disappointed with the turn of events as, well, we felt as if we were still in Florida and that is just a very Bad Thing. Displeased, we settled down in Florence, South Carolina for the night around eight thirty last night.

Sister and I got along really well, save for about ten minutes when we were lost trying to find the hotel, but otherwise the trip was full of sisterly bonding, giggles, rave dancing in the car, and multiple pictures taken from the windows. We drove in four hour shifts - for each of hers, there was rain or heavy traffic. I got open road and clear (if slightly darkened) skies. Poor girl.

We met up with Daddio around two in the afternoon. We did things.

I will go into further detail maybe tomorrow morning but I am tired and just fell on a hardwood floor.

Virginia Lesson #1: Do not run on a hardwood floor with a computer in your hands. It throws off balance.

Virginia Lesson #2: If you MUST run with a computer in your hands, remember to fall gracefully.

I broke #1, did #2. Rock on.

Smithsonian tomorrow. So even MORE details at some point. But. SLEEP.

T-Minus Three? Days

I am so over packing. So over it. I may never sound more Valley Girl in my life than when I say that, hand flipping included. It may be nullified by the fact I say it in mis-matched knee socks, a bright green tank top, and white bandanna. Vaguely trailer trash? Probably. But it makes me feel all butch and strong and Gods know what else.

The good news of the day is that almost everything that needs to be packed is. We need to get the dishes I plan on bringing all set up, rescue the pots and pans from the storage area, and Shredder's cage has to be scrubbed clean. The cage cleaning happens tomorrow and it's going to be one of the first things put into the car. Shreds will be traveling in his little feeding tank in a pretty pillow case with a brand new shoebox hide! He will be a comfortable customer, freshly fed even so he won't be overly hungry. Well 'freshly fed' means I'm feeding him tonight so he has time to digest and poop before we scurry along. I'm sure he'll be very excited to come into the hotel with us, hitting up the states in style, the lucky little reptile.

My clothes are, once and for all, packed. I have the next few days outfits ready and my necessity bag is looking alright; it will have a few more things than planned in there as my shampoo and conditioner are the squirty types and like to irritate me.

On happier and less moving related notes, breakfast/lunch was had with Mommia, sister, and the grandparents. Granddad was having a good day - he remembered he'd seen Kelsey and Mom in pictures and that there were three of us. Grandma looked like she was going to cry near the end of things. Yeaaaaaaah, I don't blame her, really. The move hasn't hit me, not yet; it's mostly this ball of stress in my life.

Oh yeah. Yesterday. I meant to post about the move but, dear lord. It was not a good day. I wrote a list of what I needed. Lists are awesome. I love them. They're beautiful and when I'm twisted up about something, I make a list in order to sort it out. Hell, it's how I decided months back I wanted to move to Virginia - Pros and Cons, of course. The list for this particular endeavor went to shit and a mini-meltdown went into effect in the late afternoon. I stood in the center of my clustercrud of a bedroom, clutching my stuffed pig and kept repeating, "I just don't know. I don't know. What do I do?"

Fabulous time, that. It ended with Ashley's house and ice cream. We watched Clash of the Titans and Avatar until finally passing out. By the time I got home this morning, I had managed to create a vague plan in my face-place on how to put things together. The major turning point came when I packed up Fido, my desktop.

As of now boxes are taped shut, my book shelf is waiting to be stored away in the trunk of my car, things are sucked up. I'm only bringing my four favorite books ( 1984, The Giver, Enders Game, and Serial Killers) - the rest are stored away in the now-empty dresser. My art supplies are all stowed in my closet along with a good portion of the writing I've done in the entirety of my life. Looking at ones life in a multitude of boxes and PackMate bags is an odd, odd feeling.

My computer break is nearly over. I think I'm going to go start packing the dishes just to get it the hell out of my way. It's been about an hour sooo must be responsible. Loading the car starts tomorrow, after all. ... So not looking forward to it.

Until next time.

T-Minus Five Days

Whoever invented packing sucks. The same person probably invented steam, the jerk. How do people figure this sort of stuff out when they have a severely limited amount of space and places to put things?! I stand here in the middle of my room (that looks like a disaster area due to squeezing two rooms into one) and just stare at all of my belongings. My room in Virginia has no space in which to put my knick-knacks. But I like my knick-knacks and my little decorations scattered over the room.

They range from a stuffed pig to picture frames and Japanese vases, stuff from my DORM ROOM back five years ago, a whole bunch of fairy statuettes... The only ones I know I'm bringing are my Buddha figures and my maneki neko pieces. Photos are a given as I adore you all and that good stuff but. What else? What do I like enough to take with me?

I've already chosen the art supplies I'm bringing. If I have room at the end of all the packing, I'll bring more but as it stands, it's down to some drawing paper, bristol board (smooth for the win), a sketch book or two, and my Wacom Intuos 3 tablet. Books are being limited to the ones I read most often or have been meaning to read for quite a while. My collectable series are being kidnapped off - who wouldn't bring books worth 20$ each because they're no longer in print?

Maybe the most important question is how do I want the new bedroom in a new world (to me) to look? When people walk into the bedroom now, they're hit by a barrage of stuffed animals, pictures from Middle/High school, some almost ten years old. Fairy statues, monster amounts of art supplies, jewelry scattered everywhere. When I say a 'barrage of stuffed animals', I mean it. There are little plushies everywhere in my bedroom, from the shelves to the desk and vanity and, sometimes, my lamps. My art is on the walls although the stuff posted by my desk is for references while I write although one piece is, admittedly, just because I really like Minamoto no Yoshinaka. He is, like, the utter bomb.

I don't think I want my room there to be an echo of the one here. New life, new beginning, yadda yadda. Maybe just the more recent pictures on display, the older ones in the photo albums I am planning on bringing.

Ugh. Time to go stand in the middle of my room again, O Loyal Readers And Friends, and be useless just staring at my packrat ways.

Until next time.

So, I'm moving.

Like, immediately. Screw the list, I now have to prove it as I have until the 18th to get all of my stuff ready, fit into the car, and get myself and my sister to Virginia. Kelsey and her boyfriend of five years are having problems and she's moving in with us. Kelsey needs a roadtrip and she needs to see Dad because what Daddy's girl doesn't need her father when her life has changed in the span of days? Since we're already on our way there, I'm just going to stay there.

The list has gone to hell.

We found out on Saturday, I got a throat infection that made me useless until TODAY. So I have exactly six days to get everything in order and pack. I can totally do it. Clothes are important but easily squished down (can be ironed later) and the needed items are what will take precedence. Like my maneki neko collection. They're pretty damned important IMHO. :3

I'm training at the dojo for the last three classes I'm be around for, work has been informed, I have an extra three months of meds just in case, I've started looking for jobs... I need to notify the banks I'm traveling. Paperwork for the savings bonds deposit will be sent out tomorrow, hotel needs to be set up. Ashley is coming over this weekend to help me pack!

Also, someone needs to throw me a goddamn party. Just sayin'.

I cried earlier today about it. I wrote Sensei about my move and apologized for the short notice. She said to come to the main campus at some point to give me a hug goodbye. After I read that, I started bawling; there are so many people I've come to appreciate at the classes that it hurt to not be able to say farewell to them. Even though most of them are kids (I'm talking about gossiping with a twelve year old here), we've been through three months of kicks, kiyah's, knuckle push ups, and a whole slew of things I never really thought I'd do. When I showed up, only Shihan was there; Sensei Yuki had left for the day, I suppose to set up the other campus for tonights class. He told me I could come to Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday's classes for free, so I could say my goodbyes and leave on a high note. I almost cried again but I can be a stoic warrior. Sometimes.

Either way, I'm on The Meds. No longer infectious. It's a good thing.

Time to pack, O Loyal Readers. I'll be trying to update each day before I leave; who knows when I'll be able to update after I move? I'm unsure what Daddio's connection is like.

Looks like 2010 is the year of exploration after all.

Until next time!

Chica from Wisconsin, ahoy!

For the last two weeks, my best friend has been visiting from Wisconsin. Unlike my other long-distance friends, Andi and I actually met in person, here in Florida. We've been friends since the seventh grade and have known one another since fifth. If not for her (and a few other priceless loves of my life), I wouldn't have made it through that mental breakdown almost five years ago.

Just over a year ago, she moved to Wisconsin for personal reasons. We've all missed her terribly; for about six months I kept adding her to the mental list of people to invite on outings or shopping trips. Thank goodness for the Internet - we managed to keep in contact. I'm not the best person at correspondence (or remembering stuff in general) but, we somehow figured it out.

Either way - she visited. And remembered just why she doesn't want to move back to Florida. Maybe not the best move on her part to visit in the disgusting, humid depths of the summer after chilling in Wisconsin for a year but it didn't mean we were less happy to see her. We didn't get near enough drinking done (Seriously, Wisconsinites? TONE DOWN THE DRINKS. I made the 'whiskey face' each time I had a sip of my rum and coke!) but good times were had and monster amounts of talking as well. It's easier to spill ones guts and express things when not done in text and instead in a car, driving wherever in the early morning and late night.

We went to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Sweated like horses - no glowing to be seen. I frolicked gaily under the Suessland semi-waterfall, successfully soaking myself to the bone and making it very difficult for my pants to stay on. Due to the weight of wet jeans, pervs. We devoured butterbeer and (surprisingly good) fish and chips. Ashley got her wands and chocolate frogs.

The castle ride? Holy. Mother. Of. Siddhartha. Seriously! Just waiting in line was awesome: you were able to walk through Prof. Sprouts greenhouse then past the Potions Room, through DADA's room. The pictures of the house founders chatted about (Slytherin, my house and fave, was a complete jerk as expected) with Rowena and the Hufflepuff one being all, gay, and stuff. The ride itself had fantastic graphics and despite the fact I knew it fake, I screamed like a girlscout pissing herself at some parts.

We left contented. They fell asleep on me in the car and I nearly passed out at the wheel as a result. Fun times! There are plenty of pictures I'm hesitant about posting. Oh well. Maybe at some point, O Loyal Readers.

Andi and I talked at great length. She listened to me bitch and in vice versa. It was a lovely time. When she was to fly out of the Tampa airport, I drove her there. We ate lunch at TGIFridays, had some gelato. Two seconds before she went past security, Andi turned to me and said, "It JUST hit me. Just hit me."

Of course, I had to throw my arms around her and say, somewhat loudly, a bit tearfully, "I am going to miss you SO MUCH."

True to form, I think she told me something along the lines of stopping the foolishness - or maybe not. I'm pretty sure I was in tears. What I remember was watching her get on those stupid train things, throwing her a heart hand signal, and then bolting to the nearest bathroom to cry. It sucked.

The drive home helped me calm down. Driving always does. I played music I liked, sang loudly, and didn't get lost once - that's a big deal.

So now she's back in Wisconsin, living it up with her friends there. We all miss her (again) but if those two weeks taught me anything, it was that she is MUCH better off there than she is here. Florida holds nothing but grief and lack of jobs, humidity and hurricanes. Good for her in her escape.

Next post will my schedule for when I get out of here. Padre said, not until Thanksgiving, and I think if I wait that long I'm going to shatter like a glass figurine under a giants foot. I tried to tell him I could be there by the end of this (yes, this very week) with all the things I absolutely need and we can fly to Thanksgiving together. He doesn't think I can drive home from TAMPA let alone to Manassas which is, I hate to say it, total bullshit.

So it will be posted. Maybe I can show it to him and prove it's do-able. I've survived more things than a drive! (Knocking on wood) I think going alone would be a damn BLAST.

Until next time, blog! Hugs.

Japanese 101

It's as if I'm living in the ultimate Middle School fantasy. When in the seventh or eighth grade, all I could think of was anime, manga, and learning to speak Japanese because it was holy crap, so cool. Everything about Japan was epic and amazing but blah blah blah. At thirteen, who could ask for anything cooler?

At twenty-three, the obsession to learn Japanese is now a life-long Elephant In The Room. It's not so much I'm going to be going to Japan anytime soon as much as it is I can just say I learned how to speak it outside of "SUGOI" and "kawaii kawaii neko-chan! >^___^<". It's sort of a goal I've had for ten years - how many other people can say the same thing? The guy in Fever Pitch doesn't count.

My friend finally took pity on my poor ass and purchased me Rosetta Stone. My cousin used it once he entered the military to learn a language and he said it was absolutely excellent, that he'd use it to learn another language if needed. So here my nameless friend comes, with declarations of Japanese and learning it and expensive as holy snap software. What else could I do but go out and buy a microphone?

This was a while back. I'm in Unit 2 now, Greetings and Introductions. Unit 1 made me repeat 'jitensha' to the point where I flew into a near-murderous rage. Yes, Rosetta Stone. Yes, it's a goddamn bicycle. Oh, awesome. It's now a yellow bicycle. Kiiro jitensha. Yes. Yes. Shut the holy hell UP.

To my shame, anime and my former weeaboo status has made Unit 2 ridiculously easy thus far. I started out with a knowledge that "boku wa" and "watashi wa" had appropriate times and places, even knew what those are, and I know the words for various members of the family. Dear lord, I've called people "oneesan" before - quite a few! It's amazing that school can actually help you out at some point.

My favorite word cropped up - tomodachi. Friend, good friend. Some variation of that. I'm trying not to define the words and phrases too much into English as that apparently just messes you up but, yes. Favorite word, if only for the meaning.

It's going well so far. I'm looking forward to continued improvement. Updates later.

Unit then!