anagram of brat

Had a little online downtime this morning, so since I have a craft project percolating in my head I've been poking around on the net for things like, oh, personal hot wire cutters and scroll saws, and stumbled onto a workshop listing for a local school for architectural woodworking. Yeah IDK either. I occasionally get the "crafting with power tools" lusts, and know from personal experience that the best way of dealing with it is just riding it out until the shakes and the need to BUY ALL THE THINGS at Home Depot go away.

You'd be proud of me, btw. I had to go inside HD yesterday because we are out of picture hangers and I have two freshly framed things to hang (slowly gaining ground in my personal war against the whitespace in my house). I went in, went straight to aisle 16, checked straight out. No detours into paint, lumber, pvc pipe, rope, lights or any aisle prominently featuring words like DEWALT, DREMEL, or BLACK&DECKER.

...can I put power tools on my wedding registry?

Only vaguely related to all this is happening to glance out the bus window yesterday in time to note the presence of a library card catalog sitting in the window of an antique store we were passing. I have all sorts of FEELINGS about this. Mostly "LUST" and "COVET" and such. I have no earthly idea what I'd do with it, but I love tiny little drawers in things almost as much as I love blank notebooks, which is to say I have PROBLEMS. Seriously, if I had an entire wall of little tiny card catalog drawers, I'd be a very happy woman, but again, no earthly idea what I'd keep in said drawers.

Course I don't know why I'm even thinking about more craft projects; I've got creative stuff in the fire that I haven't touched that needs attending to. Beadwork. SQWRRL. My ongoing hair stuff. Writing. Not to mention I've been camping Donna Meijia's website like a Horde rogue over an Alliance corpse waiting for her to announce that she's teaching belly dance classes again. And then there's the stack of games I got last week for the SNES and the Wii that I need to find time to play, this damn wedding to plan, work, and a house to keep up with which is currently winning on the chaos front (2 kid weekends back to back probably isn't helping in that department). I need to give up either sleeping or The Internet to get everything I already have to do done. Probably both. Feh.

MOAR MEDIA CONSUMPTION AHOY.

So in keeping with the idea of clearing out my Netflix queue, instead of leaping right into season 6 of SVU after wrapping up #5, I decided to watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind instead. It was a rough two hours for all of the obvious reasons, but I knew it was gonna be before I watched it (which is why it's been sitting on my queue for so long). Indeed, there was a time or two when I was all "you know what, I can't deal with this movie right now, I'm gonna turn it off." But I didn't. I finished it. And you know? it was a damn good movie and I'm glad I did even if it meant a moment or two of shoving through some massive personal squick&trigger.

Completely aside from the plot of the movie (I think going into a discussion of OMG THIS MOVIE IS TOTES RELATIVE TO MAI LYF! would be laughably redundant, so all I'll say is that Clementine would be me if I had more balls), its got me thinking again about myself and my cheesecloth boundary problem... and how 90% of the time, the person chronically violating my boundaries is me. I'm constantly making myself march through what feels like my own DMZ for reasons of which I'm becoming increasingly dubious. I suppose it doesn't help that these experiences often lead to a positive experience that may not have been had previously (the movie, for example) or at the very least a level of grim, spiteful satisfaction that I made it through whatever it was. I can think of quite a few examples where I was all "that sucked for me like fuck but I did it," (case in point, paragraph 1), as if I then expect the universe to pin a giant medal to my butt or something. Gold star for effort! Yeah-huh.

I think it was bellarisa that once asked me why I was competing for the non-existent pair of gilded Big Girl Panties when all it was doing was hurting me. I've got no real explanation for why. The only things I can think of is the massive irrational need to not be thought of as a wuss or a drama queen (not that I've done all that great of a job avoiding the latter label). But under that is still a nasty little voice that likes nothing more than to tell me that my emotions, boundaries, comfort and mental well-being are basically worthless and stupid and any energy spent on enforcing/validating them is wasted.

Yeah about that. *sigh* Man, I hate the days when I have to sit and DEAL with the fact that I'm a lot more fucked up than I care to admit most of the time. At the same time I often wonder why I spend so much time and energy caring about that fact. Yes, okay, I've got enough issues to give your grandparents' 30 year collection of National Geographic a run for its money. But so does everyone else if you dig hard enough. Why do I care so much about people seeing mine? Oh yeah, that whole "you're 32 and fail at life" thing.

Feh. I'ma go get ready for game or something now.

Being reminded of the Dance of Joy inevitably reminds me of The Mamushka.



It may be time to watch both those movies again... I guess as proof that once upon a time Hollywood could take a TV series, make a movie from it, and NOT have it be made from complete fail?




( It occurred to me that I have officially been The Bottled Goose for exactly a year. )

Ooh, bread's done. Gotta go.

I think even if I hadn't had to leave work for the doc appointment I might have gone home sick anyway. I feel horrible.

( Gross but fun fact )

But yeah, we are definitely spending the rest of the day hiding from the world under every single cover I have, cursing my insides, sipping water, and periodically running to the bathroom to geyser violently from one end or another. Bleg. I really hope I'm better tomorrow.

In other news, I didn't get read the riot act by my GI - in fact he was really nice to me once I explained what had been going on with me in terms of stress and money this year. My homework for now is to see if my insurance will cover getting either/both of my medications in six month lots so I don't run out anymore and since I don't have too much of a problem asking someone back home to cover that if it can be done, we'll go that way. Alas, once I do work that out I've got to start the Humira over from scratch which means one evening shooting myself up in the belly/thigh fats four times... ugh. But that's how it goes. We did discuss putting me back on prednisone, cause it's definitely cheaper than the Humira, but steroids fuck me up so hardcore that I really don't want to get back on them unless I absolutely have to, but considering what I'm going through today I'm on orders to keep him updated both at the end of the week and two weeks from now and if I am indeed not better by either point, back on them I go. He also agreed to personally cover my copay for the visit, which was awesome.

Still, I'm sick now, hating it, and being super self-pitying about my broken meatsack, my finances and a fair amount of lifefail. Also y'all know me, I hate being actually sick enough to have to stop, go to bed and stay there until I feel better. Like right now I'm obsessing over work, dishes and laundry that all need doing, which sucks and is stupid considering if I felt okay I wouldn't be doing any of those things anyway due to lazy. My crazy, let me show you it.

One bit of not so great but I'm kinda secretly glad about it - sick = 15 pounds mysteriously going bye bye. On one hand, any weight fluctuation of more than 5 pounds for me is not a good sign. On the other hand? It's still weight I don't have to worry about losing at some later point and explains why my pants all fit suddenly. Ahh, the fuckupedness of being female in America....

Back to bed now. :(

Today started excellent. Course, any day that starts out with sleeping until 11:30am locked in the rigid deathgrip of the Unholy Mantopus is bound to be an excellent one, right? Right?

Well. It did actually continue being fairly excellent. I actually got up and made a double recipe amount of the whole wheat pancake mix, which is exactly enough to fill a 1 gallon Rubbermaid jar. Or sixteen breakfasts worth. Dear gods, how I loathe sifting. Which reminds me, I need a recipe file. Not only do I need to recopy that recipe in my own handwriting (with a note that unbleached flour works just as well as white and that dry milk is a pain in my ass), but some of my more successful kitchen experiments ought to be noted down for posterity. Just saying, how am I going to repeat my masterpieces if I don't write them down?

The pancakes were exactly as divine as I remember. Plus I got to wake up the still slumbering manbeast with breakfast in bed, so all kinds of win. After that I worked on Bowser (his body is almost done, about to start his clown ship) some while watching inane TV, then cell23 and I watched DW. I remain amused by the fact that generations of Brits have been traumatized by what are essentially man-sized genocidal salt/pepper shakers. Next week, though, involves the Weeping Angels though - now them? Terrifying, in my opinion.

Yeah, after DW though, the day started unraveling for no apparent reason. I thought it might have been a low blood sugar type of crash, because I got dizzy and shaky and bitchy very suddenly which are pretty classic "Andee hasn't really eaten enough feed her now" sort of signs, though usually that is preceded by a burst of hyperactivity bordering on mania, which didn't happen this time. Just WHAM! dizzy and freaked out and wanting to burst into tears. It got a little better after a smoothie, but considering this was immediately followed by a splitting headache, eh. I slept off a little bit of it, but an hour or so ago started getting shaky and freaked out again so I'm trying to head it off at the pass with dinner. I'm annoyed that the second part of my day got taken out by whatever this is, and other than not really paying attention and forgetting to eat most of this weekend I can't really think of anything triggering this kinda dizzy panic and headache cha cha. Strongly considering crawling into bed in a bit with an ativan and hoping it's all better tomorrow. Fucking brain. I really didn't need this today.

I kinda accidentally took the week off of 365, so I'll be making double the effort this week to make up for it.

And now dishes. Then hopefully bed.

Been working from home all week. Car stuff and anxiety issues acting up are not cute. Kinda wigging out because I do have an appointment with the head-doc today and if I were gonna take the bus I should have left half an hour ago. Here's hoping Hanzo behaves. *sigh* I have not the faintest idea how I'm going to magically pull money out of my ass for it next week, but Hanzo is going in on Monday for oil/lube/strut; I've put it off long enough. :/

I went over to delerium_deva, et al's to play Rock Band last night. I forget how much I actually like playing it. renegadethumper's huge ass song library don't hurt none either.

Getting stuff done... slowly, fractiously... but they're happening. I am aware, however, that some things are getting done because I'm stressing/procrastinating from other stuff. I have tonight to myself, I am hoping to get some of that shit addressed. Hopefully. I don't know.

Stress sucks. Money sucks. My intestines suck. The weather after several days of warm and delicious, sucks. Kerfoo. Still, I can't complain _all_ the time. Some good hangouts with people have been had, and this past week I've been kind of spoiled in the time department by the boyfriend, his insistence on repeatedly singing various bits and versions of "Amazing Horse" notwithstanding. I am consistently amazed and amused by how much genuine affection I can stuff into a sentence like "I'm going to strangle you in your sleep." :)

I've quit putting stuff in my coffee again. Y'all know how I can't stand how milk tastes by itself; overcreamed coffee three mornings in a row has pretty much soured me on it for now. There is something refreshingly honest about plain unadorned black coffee, much like plain tea or neat vodka. I'm not sure why I keep waffling between overloading my morning cup of sanity with enough cream and sugar to defeat the most stubborn and stalwart of pancreases, and completely forgoing it altogether, but hey, it's not the first quirk in my personality, it won't be the last.

Still really want Stop and Shop chocolate chip cookies. Depending on my finances tomorrow (oh pay day) maybe I'll indulge and get some.

Home today, but instead of staring into the pixels and panicking about everything I'm taking advantage of that fire under my ass feeling and chipping away and the mountain of sheer shit that needs shoveling. Unfortunately speaking of shit, the insides are acting up again, so I'm rather glad I didn't brave the office.

Brain is jangled as well. I'm being chased by that feeling that I'm barely outrunning an anvil that really really wants to drop on my head. Or considering how I picture this, I'm Mario and my life is some kind of heat-seaking Thwomp. Reminds me of a macro I made ages ago actually...

.

In good news, things have settled back to some semblance of normalcy in the Boobyhaven so I no longer have to stress about at home drama... which frees me up quite beautifully for stressing about everything else drama, whoohoo. *sigh* I would really really really like the option of getting out of my day to day survival mode of thinking and be in a place where I can start thinking about some long term plans. I think if I managed to think in terms of that, I'd get more overall done because I'd be able to do things in increments instead of trying to fit everything that possibly needs doing into my infrequent productivity splodes. But I have a basic nebulous idea as to where I want to be in a couple of years lifewise, and it would be really nice if I could start laying the groundwork for how to get there instead of freaking out about everything undone right now. Ugh. Planning is not my strong suit, dealing with immediate crises is. However that's not exactly a stress-free mode of existence.

I also need to continue the trend of slicing out the Excess Noise in my life. Mostly letting go of people that aren't... conducive to my peace of mind. If the lenten experiment in drastically reducing Facebook and IM/Yahoo time is any indication, the drama factor indeed goes way down when I have less Other People Noise blipping at me. May be time to cull the herd again.

Back to riding the productivity train again. Least until I get kicked off.

I have just confronted a moment in which I recognized how much of an asshole I could be.

I chose not to be and let the moment go. Generally when confronted with these situations (and they do come up with a fair amount of frequency) I tend to opt to not be a dick. Though more and more as I go on, I'm afraid I do so less out of any sense of morality, kindness, integrity or honor, and more because I fear the consequences. So that just makes me an asshole at heart, I guess, and a wuss to boot. Somehow that's kind of worse.

I wonder what it says about me that there are at least three moments in every week where I find myself thinking that I'd make a fantastic ultimate supervillain if I only had bigger brassier balls... and oftentimes regretting that I don't. I suppose that's a good thing for the greater benefit of the world in general. Don't do much for me personally though....

masteradept made a point the other day that every single person that has ever told me that I had teh crazy was in no position to talk.

Talk about rethinking my own reality.

Rest assured, I will still be tossing myself on Chiquitita's couch when I get back to the Valley. I still have more issues than a lifetime National Geographic subscription. But it's definitely a bit of a whoa moment, thinking I might not actually be as much of a crazy bitch as I was led to believe.