Hard Wood

I started pulling up the carpet in the back room (office? study? spare bedroom? It doesn't actually have a name.) last night. The amount of dust that's underneath it is outrageous. The "padding" disintegrates when you touch it and there are so many stains on the underside of the carpet. The wood underneath is in fair shape but unfinished which seems weird to me. I've been researching how to clean it and hope to take a trip to Lowe's tonight to get some supplies. I don't know why I didn't do this sooner, I've been living in this apartment for almost 3 years now. 

There are hundreds of staples in the floor and I was using a spackle knife-thingy to raise them up a bit so I can pull them out with some pliers and I was, of course, positioned the perfectly wrong way so when the spackle-thingy slipped it went right into my arm above the wrist and bruised right to the bone. Right after it happened I just sat there staring at my arm for a long moment, waiting for it to split open and for the blood to gush out. There was only one little pin-point spot of blood but it immediately started swelling and it's still a little swollen now and getting blacker and bluer. 

I need: mineral spirits, trisodium phosphate, bleach, fine steel wool, fine sandpaper, white or unbleached cotton rags, to wear a mask, goggles, and gloves. 

I also need to own a Eureka Enviro Hard-Surface Floor Steamer. Not for the wood, just because I need one. It looks awesome!!! I am obsessed with cleanliness. I think. I am at least way more fond of the concept than most people I know. I think it's part of my OCD tendencies. In the three years I've been in this apartment I have never once sat in the bathtub, you know, like, taken a bath. It's not clean enough. But you didn't see the condition of this place when Allen and I moved in. It was practically uninhabitable. For realz. Honestly, this bathroom has never been clean enough for me to clean it. Chew on that for a while. I don't clean my bathroom because it was never clean enough to deserve having me clean it in the first place. I let Allen do it and reserve my cleaning skills for more worthy places.    

Mass Confusion: An Apology

Beginning to reconsider my hasty decision to move back to Philadelphia. Yes, it's true. As lonely as it can feel here, I'm not sure I can handle the forced group hangouts of Philadelphia and the general stress that comes with living there.  Yeah, yeah, I know they're not mandatory but they kinda are. Six or less is a good number for most things, not 30. I see pictures on facebook (which I absolutely despise right now) of large groups in Philly and I start hyperventilating and hating myself. Actually, I see anything on fb and I start hating myself. It's a black hole. I would like to publicly apologize to Hot Dog for taunting him about not being there.

Philadelphia: Everything's convenient there, unlike here, but it's ugly. Real ugly. And now there's MegaBus so it costs like $5 to get from here to Philly in record time (compared to the train).

I'm too worried about finding a job and paying rent in Philly. I accumulated a lot of debt when I lived there and I don't want to deal with that again. There has to be another compromise. Something better than Pittsburgh or Philadelphia, I just don't know where it is. I'm wondering if I shouldn't stay here, take my nursing prereqs at CCAC, then decide on a nursing BSN program somewhere else in the country. CCAC is a lot cheaper than CCP but also less convenient...

I'm going to hate anything or anywhere right now because of my mental health combined with my lack of health care, so easier, if less convenient, might actually be better. I just don't want to get stuck here forever.

I wish I were less fickle and changeable in my nature. On an unrelated (or is it?) note I've become annoyed and embarrassed lately with the number of people who ask me what I do and/or what I'm into. Um, nothing? Does there have to be something? I don't go out and I have a shallow-at-best interest in a variety of things but no actual "hobbies." I don't "live," goddamn it, I do my best to survive. Especially when there's no therapy/medication except for alcohol.

Ugh, I have to stop writing about this. I hate crying at work.

So, in conclusion, I apologize if I prematurely excited Philadelphia folks. It's not 100% ruled out but it may be a while longer before we leave PGH (ack!). I do love Philadelphia but I don't think I love it enough to subject myself to its horrors right now.

 (I wish I could remove the tag but I don't have the capabilities)

I made you a milkshake... I mean, mixtape.

And don't you dare say you'd prefer the milkshake!!! 

JLG bLooG Mixtape

It's a MediaFire link.

I would like to offer you a way to preview the songs but I'm not that patient or computer savvy.  Believe me, I've wasted way too much time trying to figure out how to put a music player on a blog and I still don't get it.  I could also link to places where you can listen to these songs but then I'd beeee doing way to much work for very little return.  Go to youtube or something if you're super curious.

I tried to make it listener-friendly, I know some of the stuff I listen to can be grating (which is why I removed Sleigh Bells from the mix).  Please enjoy:

1. "I Have High Expectations..." - Hussle Club
2. "All Summer" (f. Best Coast & Rostam Batmanglij) - Kid Cudi
3. "Power" (f. Dwele) - Kanye West
4. "Elastic Love" - Christina Aguilera
5. "Bulletproof" - La Roux
6. "Sticks 'n' Stones" - Jamie T
7. "Ancient Mysteries" - Brakes
8. "Bhang Bhang, I'm a Burnout" - Dum Dum Girls
9. "Buffalo Stance" - Buraka Som Sistema
10. "Soy Raka" - Los Rakas
11. "As We Enter" (Tinie Tempah Remix) - Nas & Damian "Jr. Gong" Marley
12. "Knockout" (f. Nicki Minaj) - Lil Wayne
13. "Dancing on My Own" - Robyn
14. "I Am Not a Robot" - Marina & the Diamonds
15. "Certified Diva" (f. Tifa) - Tami Chynn

Taken from Fuck This Depression Blog

I want to share all these amazing things this girl has on her blog because they're also about me and maybe you.

Homesickness is just a state of mind for me. I'm always missing someone or someplace or something, I'm always trying to get back to some imaginary somewhere. My life has been one long longing.   -Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel

                                

This was your life.

This weekend: Jeremy's bd party at MoFo, hiking at McConnells Mill (which I cannot find a standard spelling for) followed by dinner at North Country Brewing.  Sunday, as usual, was a bummer.  I HATE Sunday's, they make me feel all icky inside and grumpy outside.  Went to Target and Giant Eagle for groceries.  Found a cute skirt at Target, though.

I find that I am simultaneously getting used to the heat and getting fed up with it.   

Yesterday was Day 1 of not drinking.  Again.  My record, recently, has been 7 days.  This has got to stop.  Looks like, at age 33, I'm about to become straight edge for the first time in my life.  I think I'm going to start telling people that that's what I am just to be a smart ass.  I just really don't want to be "belligerent" any more.  I don't really want to quit drinking either, I'm just not good at it.  Or maybe it's that I'm too good.  I'm turning in to such a quitter.  First smoking, then meat, now drinking, I try not to eat things with high fructose corn syrup.  Things get weird as you get older. And I'd like to see if not drinking will make me less... zaftig.  If I may consider myself as such.


I'm reading about Tumblr right now and trying to... oh, there, I've signed up.  Hmm.  I don't know if I can be so specific that it would warrant a Tumblr, maybe I could fit in under the category "Personalities?"  Hmm.  I just found someone's blog that's right up my alley: http://fuckthisdepression.tumblr.com/.  It's where I just stole this from (but she took it from someone else first): 

So I guess I'm already thinking about abandoning blogger.  I'd like to see if Tumblr's more user-friendly, I think it might be.  At least for photos.  And I wonder if the font and size will stay uniform throughout an entire post...  And if it will add extra spacing between paragraphs that i don't request or want... I'm also wondering if Tumblr's just a bunch of teenagers.  I think it might be that as well.  Maybe not.  Holy crap, there's a bunch of cool stuff over here!  And lots of cursing!  Heart heart heart!!!

I'll let you know what I decide about this.  Still have a playlist/mixtape for you, mixtape is easier for you to download, playlist allows you to take/keep what you want.

Thinking about sea creatures.  Real ones. 

   

One for the Ladies

Je suis un monstre.  

Bien sûr.

Why didn't I realise?  Oh, please, I did realise.    

I'm posting to the wrong crowd.  Which is my own damn fault.  I am neither punk nor metal.  ("Save your breath, I never was one." Of either.)  Nor am I especially feminist.  *GASP*  I'm not terribly fond of women or what they've done to me over the years.  Fuck 'em.  Men are more relatable, at least on my end.  Not on theirs.  They only see me as a girl.  Fuck them as well. 

I just never bothered to make friends as I grew older.  Not really.  Not since my first best friend, who was a boy, started to like other boys more than me when we were seven.  (Fuck you, Garon Sizemore, for stealing my bff.) 

And not since every one of my girl friends turned out to be pathological liars.  

There was Rhonda Sanders, who claimed she could breast feed at age 8 and who, it turned out, was being raised by her grandparents masquerading as her parents while the person whom she thought was her sister was her actual mother.  

Then there was Julie something-or-other.  I don't remember exactly what happened there but it involved her not talking to me any more for some reason in the 3rd or 4th grade.  Whatever, she looked like a poodle.  

Then there was Sam Leaf.  OMG, I don't even want to get started on her and her multiple pairs of Z. Cavaricci's. Her and her jealous bff Pam.  Yes, Sam & Pam are the main reason I hate women.  Oops. I mean, don't trust women.  Sam also stopped talking to me but at the same time convinced the rest of the 8th grade girls to stop talking to me as well.  Overnight.  Because of a quiz in a magazine. Because of my answer.  That I gave her over the phone.  WHILE PAM WAS ON THE OTHER LINE.  WHICH SOMEHOW RESULTED IN ME BECOMING A SOCIAL PARIAH. 

A part I've played ever since.  

Brandi did a good job between about 15 and 19.  I mean, she tried, even though she was initially one of those 8th grade girls who made me an outcast.  Unfortunately, by that point, I was already too damaged to benefit from her friendship.  And I guess I never really trusted her or forgave her completely.

I remember some in-between-friends.  There was Sarah, who I met in French class in 9th grade.  She was at our school for AP Drama.  She was also a lesbian and she took me to Baltimore with her to see this movie, Go Fish, in 1994 (I guess).  I remember she used to call me and send me things when I was at Sheppard Pratt for a few months, and once, when I moved back home to my sister's, she came over and sat with me on my bedroom floor and held my hands while I cried.  She was really sweet.         

Niki was ok.  She didn't wash her hair enough and forever borrowed my Peter Gabriel record, "So," along with some Blondie record I bought at Goodwill or something.  It was at her house that I first became familiar with the "Internet" and "Vampire: The Masquerade."  I thought both were jokes.  It was 1994-95.

There was also Melissa, my first Sheppard Pratt roommate.  She had some eating disorder or something but we quickly became bffs.  Then staff caught on that we were too bff and decided we needed to be separated because we were "bad influences" on each other.  So instead I ended up with Sandra, a 12-year-old with serious delusions, followed by some mentally handicapped girl whom I threatened to kill because she was going through my drawers.  I had to spend a night in the "quiet room" for that.
   
I've been called a "bad influence" more than once in my lifetime.  It's not an easy label to accept.  It feels nice, in a "bad" kind of way.  Like, I'm so bad-ass that parents think I'm a "bad influence!"  But I didn't want to be a bad influence.  I wanted to be some one's best friend.  I think I was smarter than most of my friends' parents and it bothered them.  Maybe in a precocious way but more importantly in an intellectual way.  I guess as a teenager being intellectual = precocious.  Writing this has been infinitely sad for me.  Will you notice?  Probably not.  But maybe that's just me being precocious.  

Going Quiet

"You're lovable, so lovable
But you're just troubled" 
-Marina & the Diamonds


Hello, everybody!


I've been quiet lately.  It's how I deal with things when they get too overwhelming (my head gets too loud?).  I "go quiet."  More quiet than normal.  I've always been quiet and always had to suffer through jokes about being so, usually from co-workers who like to turn it around on me.  Ha ha, that's so funny, your joke about how I make so much noise!  Sorry I don't want to join in on any of your mindless conversations about... Actually, I have no idea what they're talking about.  Washing machines? That's what I had to talk about with one of my co-workers this past Friday when she decided to sit down (uninvited) in my (temporary) office for a "visit."  She especially likes to make jokes about how quiet I am.    


Usually when I "go quiet" it's because I really have nothing kind or positive to say to or about anyone.  I'm probably deep in self-pity and boiling over with jealousy so it's best I stay quiet or risk making a fool out of myself by spouting my unpopular opinions and truthful observations.  [I will read you like a drag queen.  (I wish.)]    


OMG, I just had to log out of Runescape so this fool would stop following me.  I can't even interact well with others in video games.  I really don't know how you all do it, playing games with strangers.  I get too annoyed.  Hmm.  

But I'm trying to be more outwardly positive, when it comes to being an internet personality, anyway.  I find it hard to write about anything but what's going on in my head, though.  It seems like I've gotten worse since deciding to move back to Philly.  Now that it's supposed to actually happen I find myself paralyzed by doubt and fear.  Mainly I'm scared to death of trying to find a job.  And what kind of job?  Should I really try to go back to school or should I try again to find a library job?  I know I'm good at going to school, I think that's the ONLY thing I'm good at. 

What the what is going on in this picture? I love it.

I don't want to have to organize and manage and present and coerce and sell sell sell which seems to be the only job there is left in this world no matter what label it actually has.  


I've been working at the iSchool again.  The place from which I received my masters degree in delusion.  And I watch all these fools come in who are also getting degrees in delusion and then my bitterness overwhelms me and I want to burst into tears and scream at them that they are fools being sold false promises.  When in fact the majority of them will probably get offered a library job. 


See why I go quiet?    

"I feel celestial."

I'm already bored with Lady Gaga. Am I alone in this Lady Gaga business? No? I didn't think so. I mean, I like what she's pretending to do but I just can't get behind it any longer. Sigh. I like Marina now.

Sooo. I've been having these panic attacks lately that are f-ing bru-tal-i-tar. Just out of nowhere I'll feel this tightness in my chest and then there's this pain and then my heart's beating much too fast and I'm hot and I need to lay down except I'll be at work or outside in public somewhere so there's really nothing I can do about it but hold on and wait for it to pass. The only answer is to get me back on meds and into therapy but I don't have insurance cos I live in the god damned USA (USA, USA, USA). And I tell you again, I'm not on SSI because we make too much money!!! And from what I've read it's hard to claim a psych disability anyway. So, as usual, I hold on and wait for it to pass.

Should I be ashamed to tell you this? Do you think I give a fuck? Straight Whiskey Tango up in here! Yet not whiskey tango enough to NOT realize these things. And not whiskey tango enough to truly NOT be ashamed that I tell you things. Or to refer to myself as AK-47. (A story for another time.)

Yesterday I was writing in my "gurnal" ("Yeah, whatever. Guess I'm not all smart like you.") and today what I wrote yesterday made me feel like a total ass. For example, I wrote: "I can't tell  how perceptive I am vs. how paranoid." Turns out I'm definitely more paranoid than perceptive. But I don't want to talk about that.

But speaking of paranoid: At Sharp Edge this evening I was followed into the ladies by a little person of the male persuasion who seemed drunk but may have been a little m/r. Not sure, but I gave him death stare that made him close the door behind him on his way out while I was locking the stall door behind me. It was surreal but then I had one of those "it would've been awesome if I had said..." moments. I could've been Chelsea Handler or Tina Fey. But alas, I remain myself.   

And it's hard to deal with anything when it's so f-ing hot and you don't have central air. I can barely function let alone do laundry or take out the trash. And there's nothing like the smell of hot trash. Mmm mmm! I just got a wiff of it in my kitchen. But you know what? Fuck it. Who cares? I'll go spend $70 online at Sephora instead of dealing with this shit. (I may also be drinking wine right now.) (But I'm also listening to the Misfits.) Eyeliner. Still your friend in this heat.

Still need a job in Philly. Hit me up. Yeah.

Working on the playlist for you guys. Allen may start a blog soon so look out for that. I'm totally behind it. You should be to. Encourage him in all things, I need him to support me.

Goal. An interlude.

Christoph Metzelder (Bundesliga - Schalke - Defender/Former German National)

I don't know how well he plays football but I think he's the best

Diego Forlan (La Liga - Atletico Madrid - Striker/Uruguayan National

So what if this guy doesn't photograph well, I still <3 him

Fernando Muslera (Serie A - Lazio - Goalkeeper/Urugauayan National)

He has a baby face and big teeth ("Castorino") but he's also a delightful 6'3"

                 Kevin Prince Boateng (English Premier League - Portsmouth FC - Midfielder/Ghanaian National)

I think I'm mainly attracted to his neck tattoos cos sometimes he looks like a douche

Roque Santa Cruz (English Premier League - Man City FC - Striker/Paraguayan National)
He's just a cutie  
Even (especially) when he's pulling his pants down for no clear reason

Francesco Totti (Serie A - Roma - Striker, Midfielder/Former Italian National)
He looks like he might hurt you, hurt you real good, while cursing at you in Italian  
If you're into that sort of thing 
But then he also has a crappy gladiator tattoo and seems to like to suck his thumb

"Guess what? I'm not a robot."

So I finally downloaded the entire Marina & the Diamonds album, Family Jewels.  I've been listening to a couple songs off this album for months but just now got the whole thing and it's brilliant.  My new favorite thing.

It's 4th of July weekend and I'm hating life.  It's so lonely here.  It's just me and Allen.  Most holidays are like this, especially here, so far away from everyone.  I wish we had friends and/or family to hang out with.  It's soo hot, too, so my plan to get drunk was slowed considerably because it's too hot to drink.

And we keep spending stupid amounts of money on dumb stuff when I want to put it all towards moving but instead I just keep spending it.  We spent $90 on two bags of food at Whole Foods today ($15 on cheese).  We spent about $90 a few days ago on two bags of food at Giant Eagle.  And it's not even stuff you can make a meal out of.  Plus the $225.68 we spent at Ikea yesterday.  I don't deny that we needed four shelves for the absurd amount of DVDs we own and I HAD TO HAVE a salad spinner but that was only $4.  We needed new plates cos the ones we were rockin' were the same one's we've had since we first moved in together in, like, 1997 (or was is 96?).  And we needed another duvet cover that wasn't flannel but was cheap cos Jonesy, bless him, tears up everything and the Sir throws up on the bed every other day.  He's only 10, I can't imagine how needy he's going to be at 14.  Jesus.  It sounds like I'm made out of money.  Guess what?  I'm not.  And there are all those trips we wanted to take.    

I'm busy brainstorming new story ideas for the character that I write about and ideas for blog posts.  Allen's suggested I post a playlist for whoever might read this.  Can't say anyone who reads this would like what I listen to, but who knows.  Trying to think of a new movie-related entry.  I thought I should do another crush list and Allen suggested I do one featuring ladies this time.  I'd tell you my real-time response to this suggestion but you'd think me wicked, I mean offensive.  There's only two ladies on the list so far and I'm not too impressed by either of them.

(Tip: Drinks are more effective if you use a large straw.)

So the above was from Sunday evening.  It's Tuesday morning now and I'm back at work.  The heatwave is on and our poor window unit in the bedroom struggled last night to keep us cool.  Around 8pm it was at least 86 degrees in our living room.  There were some bananas sitting around and it was so hot (how hot was it?) that it smelled like someone was baking banana bread.  That's how hot it was.  I hid in the bedroom and read about 100 pages of this book I picked up from one of the bargain tables at Barnes & Noble:

I LOVE books like this.  I didn't always; I WAS an English major after all.  Then I started writing my own fiction and it turned out to be more like the stuff above so now I try to read more books like this to figure out what works.  

I think I'm going to do a crush post about hot football (soccer) players.  I googled, don't laugh, "football hotties" and found out that quite a few people have already done this.  Not surprised, but I'm not sure I can round up over forty like this person did. We shall soon find out and it sounds like a good way to waste time at work.    

"If I ruled the world..."

WTF? Is SBD burning toast?

For those of you who don't know, SBD is our downstairs neighbor.  He's very quiet, hence, SBD.  Silent But Deadly.  Sometimes the downstairs hallway smells like farts.  He drinks cheap beer and mid-grade whiskey which I appreciate, but it can lead to stinky farts.  And he's less friendly than I am.  That says a lot.  With his weird flat mohawk and NOFX hoodie, and his Volvo with Massachusetts plates. 

(Today I ate half a donut and the leftover oily Chinese food from the night before.)  (And I stole a diet Coke from the work fridge.)  One day I'll be a wench but never a skinny bitch.  (Inside joke.)  (Then I'll go to Shampoo with you but we'll both be in drag so no one will know!) (More inside jokes.)

I wanted to write a post about all the things I'll do when I go back to Philly.  Maybe I'll still do that for next week. Mostly the things I want to do involve walking around, sitting in parks, and Chinese grocery stores. I really do miss that place like crazy. I'm going to cry now just thinking about it. Reading Terminal Market, that little park next to the Mutter Museum, the huge Asian market on 6th street that smells awful. Tofu hoagies from Fu-Wah, Clark Park, Washington Square, Fergie's, Monk's, Nodding Head, bagel sandwiches at Benna's, trips to Ocean City and LBI in the summer, Wawa! Hearing about how awesome Hammonton was for the gazillionth time...

And it seems Kung Fu Necktie isn't so bad... I want to come back so bad.  Nowhere else has ever felt so much like home. I even want that maniac who couldn't figure out how to get out of the Chinatown Wawa to come back into my life: "LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT!" That was the best. And I want to go to your art show, whoever you are (Bonsky?).  And I want Andrew to tattoo me everyday and I want to hang out and be social like I've never been before.  And I want to walk to the art museum and the hobo library and ride the el and have some guy try to sell me socks at the weirdest moments and I want to slip and fall into the LOVE Park fountain. I want people to get fevers from "swimming" in the fountain at Logan Squircle (yeah, I made that one up - squircle). Fuck. I want to go to Temple and be an undergrad taking mythology and Old English classes... My heart is breaking for what was and what I want the future to be... PLEASE!!! 

I want some fucking tater tot scramble from the Royal... I want Live 8 and Will Smith rehearsing and the backup dancers getting into a fist fight and Will Smith saying "only in Philadelphia" while Jeff looks sad and left behind on the turntables.  I want to giggle for no reason every time I walk past Ben Franklin's grave site, the same way I giggle when I walk by the African American Museum that's next to the federal pen and I wanna keep yelling "Lil' Kim" every time I walk past that prison whether she's in there or not.

Ugh.  I want to go home.  So much do I want this.