Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder: February 2005

Bah, forgot my floppy again. Will have to post my entry tomorrow. Went to the gym; my back hurts. I think I'm gonna go lay down. It's obvious that I haven't taken my asthma medication lately because I couldn't breathe when I tried to run. Suck. On the plus side, I weigh 136 now as opposed to 140. Funny that after a several-day break, I feel stronger.

Don't know what I was thinking, staying at the computer lab until four a.m. Duh. Just got up now. Mmmmmm, good coffee. I'm a definite coffee snob. I buy my beans green, roast them myself, grind them immediately prior to brewing, and use a spirit-fueled Hario Nouveau vacuum brewer. Nothing better.

Yesterday Dooce was asking about embarrassing moments. On one hand, I've got too many to count. On the other hand, I don't give a shit anymore so very little embarrasses me. One thing that embarrassed me recently was when Eduard was rude to the waiter at the Indian restaurant--POOR form! [Hey, do you know it's been over a month since I've seen him? Awesome!]

In the third grade, for reasons unbeknownst to me, my mother bullied me into wearing these ancient boy-leg panties underneath my dress. So naturally when I was talking to an older girl on the playground I really looked up to (she must have been in fourth grade), a gust of wind sprung up, lifted my skirt and exposed my horrible underwear. Everyone saw, and the reaction was immediate. No one actually laughed, I don't think, but it was like, "get away from her." Don't tell me any shit about how kids are cruel; to me, that was very adult behavior.

Once while working at this stuffy accounting firm where we had to dress "professionally" (they wouldn't let us wear jeans--or even denim shirts--on Fridays, assholes), I was bending over to refill some paper in the bottom drawer of the copier when I suddenly felt a cool draft. The back seam of my pants had completely given way, as softly and silently as perforated tissue paper. Not just an inch or two, the whole ass. I think the seam must have just been basted and not properly sewn. No one else was there except for one of the partners, and if he saw he made no indication (that particular gentleman was very nice, and gay). I was wearing old, shabby underwear, too. Anyway, I backed up against the work desk and phoned my co-worker: "Anna, it's me. I'm in the copy room. Come right now, please." In tears, I explained what happened, and she grabbed a huge wad of crumpled paper from the recycle bin and followed closely behind as we walked back to our work area. There, I sat down and Anna suggested I call Carol, who always had a sweater in the office. So I did that, but it necessitated explaining to Carol what happened, lest she think I bled all over myself, and she nearly choked trying not to laugh. So anyway, I wore the sweater around my waist, went home and changed. I could have mended the pants but I think I just gave them to charity--let somebody else deal with the muthas.

Or how about the time I was totally hot for that artist guy and thought he dug me too, so I put the cards on the table one day, only to find he was just flirting and wasn't interested after all. No, I think that's humiliating, not embarrassing. There's a difference. *sigh* To my credit, when I run into him now, instead of shying away I make a point to look him in the eye, smile, and say hello. He's the one who still makes my knees knock.

Ustabe, when I relived an embarrassing moment, I'd blush and squirm with discomfort as pronounced as when it happened. But like I said, now very little embarrasses me. One thing about my divorce, it gave me a sense of perspective: crap of that nature doesn't matter much after all.

Oh, but wait. I'd started a job at a Fortune 500 company in a high-rise in the city, and on my first day a superior named Diane took me to lunch at a swanky restaurant. While waiting for the elevator she said something to me like, "Do you need to visit the ladies' room?" to which I answered, "No, I'm fine." So we had lunch and blah blah blah. When I got back to the office and went to the john, guess what. I'd had an enormous, I'm talking humungous, booger hanging out of my nose the whole time, in front of Diane, the waiter, god, and everybody. I don't think I ever looked Diane in the eye again. Later, after I'd made a friend there, I told him about it and he laughed and said he was going to start calling me "Goob." (He didn't.) He was a total sweetheart and I've since lost contact with him. I've often wondered how he's doing. One time [in band camp] while he and I were having lunch together in his work area, I bit into my sandwich and came away with a clump of bean sprouts sticking out of my mouth like a cow. We laughed and laughed while I tried not to spray food everywhere.

It's nearly four a.m.! What am I still doing in the computer lab? I've got school tomorrow! I'm insane.

Hey, earlier today I was thinking of Andrew, a hot young studly co-worker I had a crush on while I was married. I wish he'd come over here and do me.

What can I say, I eschew television and claim that I can't stand Hollywood; in addition, no one would ever call me a slave to fashion, and yet, I can not miss what everyone's wearing to those awards shows. No, obviously I didn't watch the Oscars but I'm glad as hell that Million Dollar Baby won. Go Clint Eastwood!

Hillary Swank looked nothing short of stunning in that beautiful blue dress -- if you've got it, flaunt it--what a shape. I thought Natalie Portman's outfit was disappointing and unflattering in hue and design. Laura Linney, who's got the cutest dimples ever, looked washed out in her dress, I thought, and I also didn't care for whatever was going on with her hair. Helen Mirren looked very elegant in a classy, age-appropriate gown. Gisele and Leonardo DiCaprio--what egos, gawd: "Look at me, I'm better than you." Bite me. Lovely Catalina Sandino Moreno looked very accomplished, considering she's a newcomer. I loved her in Maria Full of Grace, and guess what: she's got the most perfect breasts ever! Just look at those full, round, firm, perfect things! In stark contrast was Kirsten Dunst, who looked downright haggard. Will you please have a slice of bread already, and wear a bra. Not a huge fan of Gwyneth Paltrow, but I thought she looked very nice with her loose hair. Renee Zellweger--what the fuck? I didn't recognize her until I read the caption. What did she go and do to herself? Hideous, sorry. Ahh, Cate Blanchett, classy as ever. Glad she won, she rocks and she should have won that Oscar for Elizabeth. Drew Barrymore was another Skeletor contender. What's up with the pale skin and dark hair, ladies? Okay, I take back the "pale skin" part because I don't believe in tanning. But, stick to hair colors that harmonize with your complexions instead of fighting with it. Charlize Theron--didn't care for her dress or hair--yucky ruffly skirt. Sandra Oh looked fabulous; she chose a dress whose color and fit comlemented her perfectly and also matched her energetic performance in Sideways. And not to be catty but whoa, Joan Rivers put on some serious weight. Has she been ill? That was another case of not recognizing her until I read the caption. Oh, almost forgot Beyonce. Yeah, that girl knows what suits her. Awesome look.

I should be doing my German homework, which is to put together a five-minute presentation on East Germany. How dumb is that.

"I don't want you to spend much time on these," he says. Yeah, right. Friday evening, most of the day Saturday and I'm still not done. Just have some background and text elements, though, so it's not so bad.

Really have to get to a computer today as I've got other homework to do too. I'm also going to WORK OUT.

Eventually I have to get my shit together, money-wise, so that I can move. I'm pretty sure I'll do it. If I've got at least two more years of school in this city, I may as well live someplace I enjoy. Of course the actual act of moving is a bitch, and I refuse to do it myself. So that's another three- or four-hundred dollars for a moving company. The kitties chewed up the offer letter from the leasing office--do you think that's a sign?

6:25 PM

Took a nice nap with my kitties pressed against me. I finished my watercolor but I can't figure out how to coordinate the rest. I need to eat something, shower and get to a computer. I don't feel like working out, though, so should I just go ahead and shower up and then work out tomorrow? Eh, just let me go to Taco Smell and then I'll figure things out. I look like hell but that's what drive-through windows are for. Slap on a baseball cap and away we go.

Now Newman's on my lap. I wonder why he's being so lovey today?

8:14 PM

Looks like that creepy white guy isn't working there anymore -- good.

Peep likes to camp out on top of my monitor, where it's warm (obviously, I don't have a flat-screen). She tucks her little forelegs under her and then dozes with her head up, like the Sphinx. She's so cute. What's really funny about the cats is that, unlike the dogs, they don't seem to hold it against me when I bathe them.

I love to fantasize about what I'd do if I won the lottery or something (who doesn't?). First, I'd pay all my debts. If there's any money left--ha--I'd buy a house, maybe. Or maybe not because then there's homeowner's associations and property taxes and stuff. But I'd definitely move somewhere else, as in, a different neighborhood. I'd continue with my education at my current university and then pursue my master's in another state. Shit, maybe go for my Ph.D.--why not? My car is fine so I don't need a new one, but maybe I'd get it detailed. If I moved somewhere with extensive public transportation, I'd get rid of the car altogether. I'm clueless and have little to no preferences in regards to home décor, so Ikea is still satisfactory for me. If I have any tastes at all, they'd be described as minimalist, so I wouldn't redecorate. I would, however, hire some domestic help! I'd have a good accountant to advise me what to do with my money, how to invest it and whatnot. I'd pay my parents back for their financial help, and I'd give to reputable charities involving animals and/or children in need. Above all, I'd keep a low profile so people wouldn't know I have a bunch of money. I wouldn't go around dripping in diamonds and posing for the press like some camera whores we all know. Oh, oh! I'd have access to an Olympic-sized pool --indoors, of course-- so I could swim laps! And a state-of-the-art fitness facility. Maybe one of the few trappings I would indulge in would be facials and massages and things like that. Overall, though, I'm a no-frills kind of person. Oh, but wait! I'd get surgery so I wouldn't need glasses anymore, and I'd get plastic surgery to correct my acne scars. But that's all the plastic surgery I'd do; I'm not interested in becoming a poster child for awfulplasticsurgery.com. I'm cool with my appearance otherwise, even my crow's feet. I want to age with dignity, not desperately clinging to some by-gone youth. There's no need since I don't make my living in the entertainment industry.

I guess for people who come into money, it becomes difficult to maintain the same values. I'd like to believe that I wouldn't be one of them, but one never knows until one's in that situation. Some values I'd like to hang onto would be loyalty, honesty, kindness, fidelity, and the pursuit of personal betterment. Some traits I'd like to avoid would be excessive suspicion of others (although a bit of guardedness would be prudent), miserliness or its opposite, being a spendthrift, taking things for granted, and looking down at others. The privileged walk in their own circles, where there's undoubtedly a subtle but refined code of behavior, such as how one dresses, the topics of conversation, and which parties to attend. Personally, I dislike affected and supercilious people and would not care to associate with them. It would be tempting to give in to the "idle rich" lifestyle, laying in bed and eating bon-bons all day, but such a waste of life and wealth would be a sin. One would hope I'd use my resources to do something with myself and make a contribution.

See, I've got everything figured out. So where's the money? I guess this topic came up because in sociology we're talking about "material and non-material culture."

Bathed the cats today, who were NOT happy, especially Newman. I think he drew a pint of blood. At one point he had a claw hooked into my skin like a fishhook--ow. Afterward I cuddled with them all as they dried to get them warmed up; I will not stand for shivering cats in this house. And now I have beautiful, soft, shiny, clean-smelling kitties who don't provoke my allergies.

I'm a little worried about Missy. She has a patch of skin scraped off by her left dew claw. I guess kids will get skinned knees occasionally, but I'm trying to think if it happened during our bath or something. I hope not. She was pretty calm and sweet during her bath.

Uh, what else is going on. I uninstalled a bunch of internet crap from my computer and made a bunch more room. I think my computer functions quite well as a word processor and little else. Gotta work some more on my watercolor assignment. Also got my art supplies--woo-hoo! Don't know if I'm going to make it to the campus today; I'm feeling like a shut-in.

I did go to the gym yesterday afternoon after my shrink appointment and only ran for about 35 minutes or so, at a slow pace. I'm debating on whether or not to go today. A classmate from sociology wants me to fax her yesterday's notes since she was out, which I'd have to do from the campus, and if I have to go there anyway I may as well visit the gym. That's how my thinking works, see: get the most out of my car trips.

Had my phone turned off last evening but when I checked today there were no "missed calls." Good! If this drinking and dialing thing were to become a habit, I'd have to get upset. I hope the next morning he was feeling as remorseful and embarrassed as he should, if he's got half a brain left. Oh wait, I did have another hang-up yesterday afternoon, but the number was displayed. I'm going to do a reverse look-up later and see what I can come up with.

Got lots to do this weekend:

Watercolor homework
Sociology homework
German homework
Make a dent in the chaos that is my apartment
Do some dolly painting

I was thinking of making a pizza, too. It's been freakin' ages since I've used my bread machine. A pizza place that I can no longer visit since it's right next door to The Tavern makes this awesome pizza without tomato sauce. I would love to try that; I think I have a recipe.

Got a letter from the apartment "management," saying it's time to renew my lease. Say what? I'm pretty sure it doesn't expire until June. Plus, they're proposing a renewal amount that's nearly forty dollars more than what I currently pay. I sure don't get their logic there; I can see with my own eyes the vast number of vacancies at this complex. If they want to keep me, they're going to have to cut me a sweeter deal.

Practically across the street from where I live, they're building one of those "supercenter" retail places--one-stop shopping: groceries and whatever else kinda crap you need, all under one roof. It would be really cool to have that so handy, but on the other hand, it'll add to the traffic in a bad way. Also, I have no idea how long it takes to build one of those things; it may be another year before it's completed anyway.

6:00

Slept the afternoon away. So much for being productive. Needless to say, I won't be visiting the gym. It's fine; I think I need the rest. Unfortunately I didn't hear the FedEx man and he left my stuff at the leasing office. Crap, now I can't get them until tomorrow. Drinking hot chocolate right now, yum.

The computer lab at the community college is nicer than the one at the university. Sweet. Except they get real bitchy about 9:30 and kick you out at 9:45, even though the sign says they don't close until 10.

So, I'm back to sneaker net, as I wrote at home earlier today, and then forgot to bring the fucking disk. That's okay, that's what retro posting is all about. So I won't spoil the surprise for you. *snicker* Like you give a shit.

I'm checking out this guy over there, I could see for the past hour that he's been I.M.-ing a chick who has a web cam, and then this other chick came over and he minimized real quick. Smooooth.

Tuesday in sociology we're watching Bend it Like Beckham, a movie I adore. Woo-hoo! That almost makes it worth the exhorbitant tuition those fuckers charged me. I think Parminder Nagra is gorgeous, but I can't believe she cut off all that fabulous hair.

Awright, gotta go.

Oh, I forgot, I had a shrink appointment today. She started brow-beating me again in regards to the fact that I don't know what to do with my life. I said something like, "I'll figure it out," and changed the subject. Christ. I've been feeling good these past few days and I'm not letting her spoil it. And FYI, ragging on me is NOT the way to positively influence me -- ask my mother.

Back to sneaker net. Typing entries on my word processor at home, saving it to a disk, and bringing it to school to publish. Hey, that's not so bad. We'll give it a try and if it doesn't work out I can get a cable modem. I definitely like not hanging around in front of the computer all day, which I will do.

So yeah, someone's been drinking and dialing. Last night around eight or eight-thirty, I got a call from a number whose I.D. was blocked. I thought it might be Peggy so I answered all happy, "Hello?" No response, but I could hear the din of people talking in the background. "Hello?" Still no response, so I hung up. Coupla seconds later the phone rang again, I answered, and again no response. Immediately after that it rang *again* , at which time I answered but did not say anything and after about ten seconds, hung up. Then, quickly, before they could call again, I turned off my phone. And yes, they did call again after that. I mean, that's some harassment there. I really thought Eduard above such actions, but you know, with the piss and all. Well, if he ever has the nads to phone and identify himself, I won't agree to see him. I'm done with this, so done.

I'm in two minds about going to the gym today. I went last night and I'm still tired. But I could just go and have a light workout, I don't need to kill myself. Wow, I'm starting to shape up if I may say so. My goal is to be able to wear a bathing suit without all that extra ass hanging out the back (of course, I could always wear one of those old-lady suits sold at L.L. Bean, with the skirts -- GAAHHHHHHH!). Then, I intend to start swimming at the gym. I love to swim. Can't wait! If I were really secure with myself, I'd swim regardless of my physical appearance, but I'm ever conscious of my age and the fact that most people there could be my children, perish the thought. I have to say, though, that although I'm approaching forty, I don't come close to looking like it, especially my body. My breasts are still high and firm and I have a small waist. I hope to keep it that way. The only things I can think of that give away my age are my elbows. They are pretty gnarly.

Awrighty then. New computer lab at the community college. Unfortunately it closes in twenty minutes, but I don't have much to say anyway. I think sociology class is interesting. Funny in ways because the teacher regards us as if we've never been to college, which may be others' situations. Makes me feel as if I've made some progress in my schooling after all. Also, I'm the only white chick in there, which doesn't bother me at all. I'm one of the oldest students too, which is common.

I like how one sociological school of thought is "symbolic interactionism." Apparently people adopt the roles that are assigned to them, take them inside, own them, and become them. So true. I know I did that in boot camp, the closest thing I've come to prison time ... not including the two nights I spent in jail for traffic tickets. I also did that when I was a secretary, one reason I was so miserable.

Anyway, turned in the first watercolor assignment on Monday and although it wasn't as beautiful as some of the others, it was still competent. I think the instructor was pleased with it. Considering it was my first, I was fairly proud.

I don't have computer access at home and I'm strongly considering keeping it that way. I spend literally hours in front of my computer, wasting time, sitting in a stupor. Today I actually read my sociology textbook (talking about the scientific method--boring as fuck). I'm interested in spending my time more constructively. Gotta do the doll shit too. I sent away for some liquid acrylic paints, which I think might improve my skills. ...Did I already write that? Oh well.

Ai, they're patrolling, ready to kick us the hell out. 'bye.

I just saw the tall, lanky artist I fell in love with a couple of summers ago. Eeeee! Eeeeeeeee! Take me now! *sigh* No, I didn't say anything to him. His back was toward me and he was headed into the office to check his mail, or whatever. Surely there are some feminine wiles at my disposal to orchestrate a chance meeting? Yum yum yum yum yum.

Well, what's going on. Not much here.. No time to post; I have to grab a bite before watercolor. I spent all of yesterday working on the assignment that's due today. It's no masterpiece but at least it's done. Had some fun doing it. In German we're watching Good bye, Lenin, which I think is pretty enjoyable.

Last week while killing time I watched Run,Lola, Run in the language lab on campus which was pretty good too. Yep, she ran a lot, alright.

Today's the second day in a row I'm not working out, which I don't like. Or is it the third?

Saturday night I watched Constantine at the theater and liked it despite the hammering it got by the critics. Hey, I like Keanu Reeves and his acting is fine by me, for whatever that's worth. On a down note, I think I left my sociology textbook at the theater. I hope I can retrieve it or that's a good $114 down the shitter.

Onward for some cheese pizza with Coke. Yum.

I worked my ass off at the gym today. I like to do a minimum of 40 to 45 minutes of cardio because that's what burns the fat, anything above 30 minutes. But now I'm fucking exhausted. I came to the campus to do some painting but the classroom is locked, so, I may as well go home. I can tell you, though, that if I go home, some serious nappage will occur.

It's embarrassing, I sweat like a mammoth, presuming that mammoths sweated, of course. While on the stair machine, the water just flows off me freely. I've always been like that. Not for me the faint glow and dainty dabs, nope.

Found a t-shirt Eduard left at my place. God he had that annoying habit of leaving his shit there, which only necessited my collecting it all and returning it. Well, he ain't getting this one back; I've decided to use it as my paint rag. If he asks about it, I haven't seen it. Just as well, he's got a t-shirt of mine and a book that he never returned, chump. He didn't even like the book.

Also forgot to mention that I've been working out a lot this past week, because I had to shower at the gym anyway, you know, and I'm starting to see some results, which is very exciting. My muscles are tightening up and becoming more visible. The fat deposits will take more time to diminish, since they didn't arrive overnight, but I'm feeling pretty good.

Only thing is, I'm so addicted to Coke. That shit is so diabolical; it's hard to imagine that even one a day puts on a significant amount of fat. When I was younger I never touched the shit, but now ... I'm a freakin' addict. I have to say to myself, "Today I'm going to have a Coke-free day," but if I'm having a bad day I'm like, "God, I'm dying for a Coke." Is there a Coca-Cola Anonymous? There should be.

That is all.

Forgot to say, I've been thinking about Eduard a lot lately and with every passing day I'm more and more relieved to be out out of it. I'm so grateful not to be with him anymore! Little things that I instantaneously disregarded as they happened have come back in my mind to demonstrate exactly what a pompous little pissant he is. God be praised, I don't have to put up with him anymore!!

And I don't miss Shay either; she can go fuck herself as far as I'm concerned. I don't even say that with any malice. 'Bye. Nice seein' ya. Later.

I'm in the computer lab on campus -- DON'T ask! Anyway, there was this big group of thuggish-looking guys congregating here not long ago, talking loudly about where they're supposed to go after this. I'm like, will you just leave already? I was browsing my doll board and I couldn't look at pictures of dollies without them seeing over my shoulder. Gotta feed my doll habit, you know.

I think I'll turn in soon. I'm movie'd out.

Omigod, omigod, Oh My GAWD, my power's back on! Surprise the hell out of me, I was convinced I'd have to get on the phone and kick some ass. Oh thank god. What a luxury! Electric lights! Appliances! First thing I did was load my skanky gym gear into the washer and set the timer for tomorrow morning, so when I get up all I have to do is put it in the dryer. Cool.

Saw Elektra this evening and hell, it wasn't so bad. I don't know what everybody was complaining about; I kinda liked it. The only people in the theater were a young couple with their toddler (why?) and me.

I'm beat, going to bed.

Aw man, I'm out of it. I went to the gym earlier and worked my ass off, and now I'm in a daze. I've got class this evening but I can't afford the textbook, and I'm supposed to have Chapters 1 and 2 read. :-P I tried finding the book in the library but it wasn't available.

I'd really like to take a nap right now.

And, space case that I yam, I missed a VERY important appointment earlier today, which is very very bad. Crap.

And, last I checked, the power in my apartment was still off. Tomorrow will be a week.

Not much to say, except that I am *not happy*. Still don't have power. The lady on the phone last night said I shouldn't have paid the bill over the internet because it'll take five days for processing. I just got an email that said they began processing yesterday and it'll take five days from then. Man, fuck this shit.

Awright, now I'm a ticked off puppy. Man. I got into the community college for that lousy class, but not before being run through the mill and shuffled between the admissions, counseling and business sections in "student services." Hah! They should call it "student buggering." And then, get this: I got charged out-of-district tuition! I live 8.01 miles away from the school, according to Mapquest, but I don't live within the city's school district. I'm taking this class, but believe you me, that institution is not getting another penny of my money. Oh, oh. And, they require me to take some freaking "orientation" class, as if I've never been to college before. Fucking money-grubbing bureaucratic bullshit. It cost me $460, not include textbooks.

And, as of this morning, my power *still* wasn't back on. I showered at the gym. Dude, this is some sorry shit right here.

I did it, I did it! I smuggled a Coke! I'm wearing a shapeless coat so I stuck the cold 20 oz bottle down the back of my jeans. Felt like a right pratt, but now I've got my fix. At the theater the cokes cost four bucks, fuck that.

I'm thirsty. Do you think I could smuggle a Coke in here?

Hey, this is pretty fucking funny, and it totally reflects where I am right now:

Cakewalk
Oh, crap, that's right, I was supposed to be more fun and productive this week. But too bad! I've discovered my new favorite thing: sleeping for 12 hours a day.
Listen, it's so great. It's economical--you don't need to eat as much, and you don't have time to go out and drive around, burning gasoline and buying a bunch of stupid shit you don't need. It's relaxing--instead of worrying about things you can't change or pissing off your friends, you're just tucked out of the way. Plus it's fun; after you get past your normal allotment of REM sleep, your dreams start to get really twisted and vivid.
Before I would make myself get up every day, move around, talk to people, work on projects, learn things. God, I was such a dumbass! For the simple act of expending no extra effort whatsoever, I can turn off my alarm and go on a meandering helicopter ride, watching everything below me burn into cinders.

That's right, still hanging out at the computer lab, killing time.

Erg, still have no power. Slept most of the afternoon and then drove to the campus to use a computer. Fortunately they have a 24/7 computer lab so I don't have to be watchful of the time. I phoned the electric company this morning to ask when my power would be restored and I was told "24 to 48 hours." So, if I call tomorrow, will they then tell me 24-72 hours?

At least, to my surprise, there was still some warm water today.

So yesterday I figured I'd go see Merchant of Venice, which is only playing at one art-house theater here in town. I made it in time, only to find that the last show of the evening had been sold out. Oh well. So I drove to a multi-plex and saw Ray instead. Hey, that's a fucking good movie! I thought Jamie Foxx did an outstanding job. Awesome music. Don't know what I'll do tonight to kill time. Maybe see The Aviator. Thank god for student discounts.

Man, screw this. I'm so frustrated. I got the run-around when I went to the community college: "You'll have to register on-line since we're closed." This was at about 2:30 in the afternoon. They sent me to the veterans' office downtown. When I got there, I saw a sign that read, "Veterans Services closes at 1 p.m. on Fridays." Okayyyyy. So, I get to the university campus to use a computer and it turns out I can't register on-line, it says I need to contact the administrator. FAB-ulous.

Should I go to the gym or say fuckit? Whenever I work out, it takes so much out of me that I sleep for about 12 hours straight. Wah wah wah. Bitch bitch bitch. There's no point in hurrying back to my dark apartment, that's for sure.

So this morning I was sitting in a stupor in front of my computer as I am wont to do, when there was this slight hissing sound and the screen went black. "Goddammit, Peep!" I shouted, because she has a tendency to step on the on/off switch to the power strip. Then I noticed that other things in the apartment were off, not just the computer, and Peep looking at me from the window seat going, "What?"

Yepper, you got it; the power got turned off. This is the first time EVER that my power has been turned off. Is this a new low? So, first I took a shower by candlelight before the hot water went away, then I drove all the way to the campus to use a computer with which to pay the bill. The lady on the phone said that after payment, the power should be restored "within 24 hours." You know how many things you can't do without electricity? A lot.

I'm also trying to register with a local community college because they have something called a "second start" semester. I only learned about it yesterday and it starts Monday, so I have to get it together. It would be cool to get in because just taking four hours is totally bogus.

Huh, I knew it! The pain of a broken heart is physical in addition to emotional. Man, after my husband dumped me, I thought I was gonna die; I had physical pains in my chest, in my core. It was easily the worst time of my life.

As for the saying, "time heals all wounds," it's true -- to a degree. I will always carry around scars caused by his abject betrayal.

Now, of course, I know that I have no need of that contemptible sod, or anyone capable of that level of deception.

Crap, I saw Shay on the campus just now. We were walking in the same direction on two different sidewalks that converged. She was looking right at me, and I was dumb enough to smile at her at first before I remembered not to. Since it appeared that we'd end up practically walking side-by-side, I turned my head away without saying anything and diverted into the library. Used the bathroom there, giving her time to put some distance between us before I resumed my path. I see she didn't drop out for the semester. Twat.

I'm kinda pissed off because I didn't expect to ever run into her; the campus is huge and the chances must be minimal.

Oh well, gotta grab a bite to eat before I head to watercolor. Just have an hour between classes and I'm a mile away from the art building.

Awright, dammit, I did it. I dropped the class. That was too fucking easy; there wasn't even one of those dialogue boxes that said, "Are you SURE you want to drop this class?" like in Microsoft products. Click click and I was done. At least this way, I dropped it early enough so that it won't show up on my transcript.

Now that I'm only taking four hours, I can't ask for assistance from my folks, nor will I qualify for financial aid, so it's time to look for a J.O.B. But I feel better, I'm glad the decision is made.

On another subject, being relatively new to the blogging community (blogosphere?), I had no idea people were getting fired for their blogs. Not an issue for me, obviously. But shit, I'd still write about whatever comes to mind, and believe me, when I have jobs I complain a lot (right, John?). Naturally, I wouldn't reveal my name, others' names, location, company or even industry, but I reckon it's all traceable if someone was hard-headed enough. I'm a bit of a turnip farmer when it comes to computer stuff.

Oh, also, I wouldn't mention to anyone that I blog. That's a mistake. I told Peggy only because she was the one who introduced me to blogs in the first place, but it's like a kid saying, "I have a secret but I'm not telling..." like that Spongebob Squarepants video I saw not long ago.

Anyway, can't miss German again.

As stupid as it sounds, I didn't know that "Introduction to the Study of Language" was linguistics. A more useless class I have never taken. I can't make myself go. Even though I'm up in time, it's too embarrassing to drag my sorry ass in there after being absent like five sessions in a row. Plus I won't know what the fuck they're talking about.

You know what? Smug. That's the word I've been looking for to describe Eduard. Smug. Smug in his vast intellectual superiority.

I've never been particularly maternal. The sight of puppies and kittens elicits the "awww" factor in me far more than human babies. And for the past several days I've been reading dooce.com, where she chronicles her depression, especially after having a baby, and it makes me doubly glad I never had one. I was raised by an emotionally unstable mother and I see no point on passing on the legacy. Plus, given my energy levels, I don't see how I could possibly cope with the responsibility. In addition, I'm selfish, I don't want to give up my freedom -- I don't want an obligation of that magnitude. I'm glad I came to an awareness and broke out of my indoctrination of societal roles; I mean, growing up, it was standard to say, "when I have a baby..." and not question whether or not it would happen.

Missy's in my lap. She's the most assertively affectionate of the bunch. Woke up this morning steaming hot, and found Missy sleeping on my neck. Newman and Peep are wrestling on the couch.

No particular "reason" to post right now, except to avoid all the things that need taking care of. It's raining and I'm feeling somewhat dull and blah, although that's most likely not the result of the weather.

You know, even when I was a kid, I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. My playmates would say, "I want to be a teacher," or "I want to be a nurse," and I never knew. I never could visualize the future, and now I'm kinda living in the moment, like a dog does, because that's all I can handle without feeling overwhelmed and panicked. I really really really really really can't believe I'm nearly 40.

I lay there awake after only four hours of sleep, breathing with some difficulty and listening to the cats knock something else over, and I think, "I've got to get rid of them."

Honestly, as much as I love them, particularly Newman, I'm not being realistic. I mean, I had no trouble with my asthma prior to their arrival; now, I'm always snorting some foreign substance to clear my lungs. Also, it's rare that I sleep through the night because they're always pouncing on me or else wrecking my apartment. I could just look at it like, well, I took them off the streets, saved their lives and gave them love; now it's time for them to find permanent homes. It's gonna suck. Really suck. As I said before, Newman's practically my own baby. I'm never fostering again -- didn't intend to this time, it just happened.

What if I just kept Newman? But that seems cruel, not letting him have animal companionship, especially that of his siblings, although it's probable that he'll be separated from them anyway. How do solo cats fare? I've never had cats before.

The other night while I was on the phone with Peggy, I got a call from an unfamiliar area code. I didn't pick it up, because I don't believe in that as Peggy was there first, and the caller didn't leave a message. Now I'm wondering who the fuck that was. Was it Eduard? He was mooting the idea of moving out of state to be with his mom. I wouldn't doubt if that's what he did with his brokenhearted self.

I shouldn't make light of a broken heart, because my ex taught me the true meaning of the term. But, why and how did E make himself so vulnerable when we were only together for four months or so. I take no responsibility for that.

After school I went to the Arby's drive through and in the parking lot was a sad-looking, scroungy, three-legged dog. I bought him a roast beef sandwich, and the mingled fear and hope in his eyes made me want to cry. The plight of unwanted animals makes me so very sad.

I could be sitting in watercolor class, getting a head-start since it doesn't start for another 45 minutes, but I felt an overwhelming need to write.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I overslept again today, woke up at 11:30. My first class starts at 11:00. So I jumped out of bed and showered, thinking that if I hurry I can make German. I guess in my little noggin I was thinking that German starts at 12:30, when it starts at noon. I mean, there was no way I would have made it in time and I didn't realize that until I was on the freeway nearly at the university. Why do I do stuff like this?

I'm gonna have to drop that first class, which means that I'll only be taking four hours this semester. Fucking shrink's gonna tear a hole outta my hide when she hears that. I'd like to get rid of her. Well, be careful what you wish for. By dropping the class I'm surely forfeiting my VA vocational rehab benefits, for which you have to be going at least half-time I think.

I really dug myself into a hole here. I mean, I cried for the sixteen years I was a secretary, bemoaning the fact that I don't have a degree and have no way of getting one. Then I find an opportunity and I'm fucking blowing it. I really don't understand myself.

I should just take the lazy way out and just get some stupid job. But I can't be satisfied with that; paralyzing depression sinks in after a few weeks or months.

I'm so lost.

Oooh goody, Adrian Brody is starring in a new movie. Now he's my idea of a hottie. I adore tall, lanky, sensitive, slighty-geeky poet (or artist) types. Fell in love with one such guy a year and a half ago which came to nothing, but my knees still knock whenever I happen to run into him, which isn't as often as I'd like.

Another desirable specimen: Johnny Depp, which goes without saying. Loved him ever since the mid-80's. Not so keen on Brad Pitt, although I used to be. I dunno, something about his personality ... although he is, of course, wonderful to look at. George Clooney is a hunka hunka burnin' love, but he's another one that apparently doesn't appreciate mature women.

One time Eduard and I had to get up relatively early, i.e., while the sun was still shining. When the alarm went off, he goes, "Will you be able to get up?" and I mumbled back, "Ummmmm hmmmmm," without stirring. He started kissing on my back and shoulders and stroking and caressing me until finally I rolled over, smiling, and he slowly entered me. It was such sweet lovemaking. I told him afterward that was the best wake-up call ever.

Yahhh, I had the pleasure of going to the VA medical center's emergency room for my bladder infection. Waited 2-1/2 hours to be seen by the doc and then 1-1/2 hours for the pharmacy to give me my drugs. Coulda been worse I guess. Those antibiotics work fast, thank gawd. Well, I mean, they took the pain away quickly. The doc was a very pleasant woman and we had a nice little chat. While I waited for the meds, I sat in the "meditation room" next to the closed chapel. It was quiet and the lighting was subdued, so I shut my eyes and sat perfectly still for an hour. Don't know if I fell asleep or not, but that hour went by pretty fast.

I really like the song "1, 2 Step" by Ciara. It's got a nice old-school beat that makes me want to dance. I used to be crazy about dancing, just nuts. I wouldn't mind going now but I haven't been in years, since before I got married.

Pretty, pink-tinged urine.

I'll have to go to the emergency room. Face it, I can't go to school like this. But the echinacea will render the urine culture negative for infection and they'll question me. At least, that's what happened last time. Was treated very condescendingly by some Doogie Howser-type punk.

This morning had weird dreams about my high school peers. I have lots of dreams about them -- too many. It pisses me off. Sure, high school was one of the worst times of my life, but hell, when is my subconscious gonna get over it, already? My shrink recommended going to the 20th reunion, which is this year anyway, in hopes of putting those ghosts to rest. Erg, but go there by myself? I'm always by myself, in everything. I might as well say, "Yeah, I'm a divorced loser."

I entertain fantasies of asking Shay's ex to escort me. He's a body-builder and a model to boot. That should get some tongues wagging. But, I don't know how to contact him besides trying to catch him at the Tavern, and that sure as shit ain't happening.

Funny how most women practically swoon whenever "Mike" enters the room. Me, although I like him well enough and think he's a nice guy, I'm not attracted to him. Never did care for the burly guys; I tend to prefer men who aren't so obviously laden with testosterone.

Fuck, I've got a bladder infection. This marks the first time I've gotten one without being sexually active--it's been three weeks already [countdown commences]. I don't want to go to the emergency room because I know I'll be sitting there for two, four, or who-knows-how-many hours. I'm trying to treat it myself. I've already popped: calcium, echinacea/goldenseal and cranberry caps. Oh Lord.

It cracks me up when the cats close the door to the bathroom and lock themselves in. Newman's so vocal when he's displeased, too. Silly kitties.

Missy's retort: then why don't you fucking clean this place for once?

Note to Missy: Stop eating my hair. That's the reason you get poop hanging out of your ass by a string. Just quit it.

Note to Peep: Will you please just leave my aquarium fish the fuck alone??

EJ's comment had me laughing out loud, regarding the boyfriend who wanted to swing.

Swinging ... now that's an interesting subject. I've always entertained sexual fantasies of group scenarios -- I find it highly arousing, the thought of watching others have sex and having them watch me have sex and the, uh, interactions. Of course, fantasy and reality are, to me, quite separate. It doesn't mean I'd want that to happen in real life. While in fantasy it turns me on, in reality it's somewhat ... sleazy. I've never been faced with the option, and honestly I don't know what I'd do in that event. It probably would depend upon the circumstances and the others involved.

The subject came up with Eduard. We were just talking about fantasies, understand, we weren't suggesting anything. He said he wasn't into the idea because he didn't want to see anyone else fucking his woman, a comment that made me chuckle (remember the quality of his that I appreciated: his fidelity). It also surprised me because I thought he'd be into just about anything. (He also wasn't into rimming, which came as a relief.)

My friend Peggy wants to read my blog, but I think I'll keep it private. I mean, surely she doesn't want to hear about my sexual proclivities, any more than I want to hear about hers.

My parents did the wife-swapping thing for a while when I was about seven or eight years old. It was fine with me, because during that period my dad didn't pay me any of those horrible nighttime visits. God, those were some happy days for me. What a heavy burden he placed on my soul, fuck.

Oh, here's Missy when she was younger. You can see her blue eyes here.

What am I still doing up? I thought I had a bladder infection. At least, I hope I don't have a bladder infection. I went running today and obviously didn't drink enough fluids. Ouch, my bladder started pinching, so I chugged a bunch of water and took some cranberry caps. Wish me luck that it worked; I do feel better. I don't wanna go to the emergency room for antibiotics!

Meow, your wish is my command:

This is Newman.

Too bad this one's black and white, 'cause you can't see Missy's beautiful blue eyes.

Missy and Newman enjoy a Green Day video.

Kittens on the couch.

Peep, when she was a lot smaller. She's much prettier now and her eyes are toffee-colored.

Saw House of Flying Daggers tonight. It was ... okay. Silly but visually pleasing. Cool sound of clanking metal. The leads were all very beautiful. I do like those sword fight/martial arts movies, but my fave so far is still Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

My UPS man is a hottie. Love it when he stops to chat for a bit. One time I answered the door fresh out of the shower wearing nothing but my bathrobe and I saw that he couldn't help but check me out. I wouldn't mind inviting him in and ...

Flirting: it does a body good.

Wonder how he'd feel if he knew he delivered my sex toys?

Since Newman's on my lap and I'm loathe to disturb him, I'm going to type what I wrote in school the other day:

Killing time between classes. They sure ask nosy, personal questions in German class, like what characteristics your dream partner has. How about, sobriety? Might be a good place to start. What's German for sobriety? Nüchternheit, according to my dictionary. Wish I could take a nap.

It's cracking me up, everyone saying how damn cold it is. It's 50 degrees! Cool, not cold. Need to work out this evening. Yesterday's blading did me a lot of good, except for the blister (Blase). Really wish there was a better place to hang out between classes. Schlepping all this stuff around [backpack plus heavy art portfolio] is a definite handicap.

That blow-out a week ago Saturday... I still don't quite grasp the finer points. I said something and then a chain reaction took place in E's head until he got himself all worked up and left in a lather. I stood there, uncomprehending, but at the same time, letting him go. I didn't argue too strenuously. I'm glad to be done with him. Another desired characteristic of a dream partner: to be weaned from his mommy. To wean is entwöhnen.

I've got it all planned out: I won't bother looking for a partner until I'm 50. Hell, that's just another 12 years. That way, I figure, I can find some divorced gentleman and he won't expect me to have his kids. Pisses me off, guys looking for breeding stock. Go buy yourself a fucking cow! Of course, a major flaw in my plan is that men are perennially looking for much younger women, so that when they're 50, they'll be wanting 30-year-old arm charms. I think my arm-charm days are long past.

One thing funny is that Wednesday in German class, the teacher kinda came in with her tail between her legs and said that she was told to make the class more light-hearted. Good. For one lousy credit, it's not worth the sweat.

I have to go to the rental office to pick up a couple of packages and I don't want to. I'm filled with dread at the thought of encountering what are usually snooty, disdainful and ineffectual cunts. I can't go looking like the skank I do right now, so I figured I'll go running since I have to shower anyway. Might as well get really dirty so as to get the most out of my shower possible. How economical of me, no?

Speaking of bathing, I've found a product that's the best I've ever tried. See, I read in The Guide to Getting it On that the vagina needs an acidic environment to be healthy, and that soaps are alkaline, thereby throwing off the balance. The book recommended a product called Nature's Plus Natural Beauty Cleansing Bar, which has a pH of 4.5.

Thanks to ImageShack for Free Image Hosting

Dude, this stuff rocks. Ever since I started using it, my vagina has been SO happy -- no infections whatsoever, not even bladder infections, which I usually get when sexually active [which I'm now not, as you are no doubt aware if you've been reading my blog]. I want to share the news with every woman I know! And since it's dumb to have a separate soap for the vagina, I've been using it all over and my skin has reacted very positively to it. Then one day while on the toilet I browsed through the little pamphlet that's included in the box, and it said that I could even wash my hair with it. So, weird as it is to wash hair with a cleansing bar, that's what I do now, and my hair and my scalp are the healthiest they've ever been. This is truly a miracle product. It's also nice not to have to lug an armload of products to shower at the gym.

While it was okay for my face, in that it seemed to clear everything up very nicely, I found it was a bit drying, so I've been using Cetaphil for my face, another awesome product.

You think I should be in advertising? Kickbacks may be sent to the following bank account: [yeah, right].

Speaking of careers, I read in CNN that there's a shortage of blue collar workers. Maybe that's my calling. Maybe I could be an electrician. Money's not bad, I wouldn't be stuck in a fucking cubicle, and I wouldn't have to go to college. Food for thought. A big con would be that I'd have to deal with serious sexism in a male-dominated field, not something I care to revisit.

Newman is curled up asleep with his face smooshed in my lap. He's so precious, it's almost like he's my own baby.

John mentions faith in his blog. Faith ... faith is something I don't have. Just faith in general. Faith in a higher power, faith in my abilities, faith in myself in general, faith in others, faith in the future.

One thing I miss about Eduard is that he liked me for who I am. He accepted, and liked, the fact that I dress like a boy, that I cuss like a sailor, etc. That's hard to find, especially in young-ish men.

But, men, i.e., companionship, are honestly the least of my concerns right now.

A moment ago, all three kitties were worshipping at the altar that is The Monitor. Now it's just Missy. I don't care so long as they stand off to the side a bit. Note to Missy: When you're lying on top of my gourd in bed is NOT the ideal time to perform your toilet on your nether regions. Euch.

Yeah, my shrink totally ragged on me yesterday. It was like she was personally upset or disgusted with me or something. She was saying how I'm not invested in living this life and I'm at the midway point of my life right now and how would I feel at age 80 to know that I didn't do anything with my life, that I'd be an angry and bitter person and blame life. Beneath this onslaught I just sat there with my legs crossed, my foot twitching and my finger feeling the zit on my lip. And she continued to say that now I just lost the two people I hung around with and what am I going to do now? I know, how about drive straight home even though I'd planned on going to the gym afterward, burst into tears, and go to bed, that's what. And then stay up until 1 a.m. reading someone else's blog, and then go back to bed fully clothed with a splitting headache. And then wake up at 5:30, still with a headache, and continue reading that person's blog.

And that my meds and twice-monthly sessions weren't helping and that I should consider ... I forget the exact term she used. "Day facility" or something like that? I would have to go to the VA for that, can you imagine? Me in a psyche ward, wearing a paper robe amidst all these homeless, delugional Vietnam vets? *snort*

And she criticized my giving the dogs to my parents, saying the only reason I like the cats is because they don't need anything from me (which isn't true; they're very interactive and two are on my lap right now). And the fact that I'm only going to school to get a break from life as a secretary and that I'll probably wind up being a secretary anyway since I don't like school.

I'm not saying she's wrong in any of this, but since when do shrinks belittle their clients and make them feel like shit? Basically telling me I'm a big loser and I'll wind up like Eduard.

And my head still fucking hurts.

I just came back from my shrink's. Now I'm really depressed. I'm treading water in my life, just waiting until my time on this earth is up, basically. She suggested I consider checking myself in somewhere.

She's right, I'm not living.

Whoa. I mean, this was a dumb quiz, but the description is somewhat fitting:

find your element
at mutedfaith.com.

What? Just got a newsletter from the apartment management and under "Your dedicated staff" are all new and unfamiliar names. Again? I've lived in this complex for over two years and this is the seventh, yes, seventh change in management. Too bad, I had somewhat of a rapport with the previous staff, which is rare for me, believe me. Crap.

Haven't yet decided what to do in regards to this place. As far as apartments go, it ain't too bad. I mean, apartment living sucks overall but this is fairly bearable. It's a drag when the weather's nice because every asshole and his brother's out there revving their car engines. Can't really complain about the noise though, especially as compared to other shitholes I've lived in. But, I live a substantial distance from "where it's happening." I would like to be closer to the actual city because I like that urban feel. Also, my present neighborhood is unsafe; there've been shootings and knifings and whatnot. Plus, the rent is outrageous so if I don't get any slack there I'll have to move anyway (last time I renewed I got two months' free rent, prorated over the 14 months). Would be nice to get an old wooden house with a little yard, but it would need washer/dryer hookups and you can bet it wouldn't have a dishwasher.

Newman's in my way again. He's got a loose tooth. Oh wait, I see it came out.

Went to the gym and ran for forty minutes. Now, I'm wiped.

It occurred to me in the shower today, which seems to be where I do my most profound thinking, that my self-esteem hinges upon whether or not I'm in a relationship. I'm not pleased with this revelation. It's like, I'm far more confident when I know I have a "boyfriend," which makes me more attractive to the opposite sex, but then I'm not available. But when I'm single, I lack confidence and have trouble meeting people. WTF?

Oh, speaking of WTF, I want to buy this t-shirt:

I'm typing from school and the formatting is weird, I'll have to fix it later.

------

Fixed it.

Cranky as a motherfucker this morning, and late again. Argghhhh...

I totally want to dump that linguistics class, but that would mean I'm only taking four credits this semester. I'm already so far behind, though, and NOT in the mood to deal with it.

See my problem? I have to be in the "mood" to tackle something. Ahem, exactly when does that mood occur? Never! My apartment is a prime example.

I can remember a time that I took responsibility for myself. I kept my place relatively clean, I cooked for myself, I exercised regularly, I opened my mail and paid my bills. Now, I'm puerile.

I'm not gonna make it to my first class, again. But I can't drop it, I just realized, or I won't qualify for financial aid. Fuck.

Hmmm, nights are always the worst, that's when those unwanted feelings arise. Just trolled the personals online and hell, that's depressing as shit. If I specify that the person I seek doesn't want children, that totally limits the matches. Oh well. I'm sick of being regarded as breeding stock. Also, there's no one, and I mean, NO ONE, in my city. Figures. "Life is to short." "Knew in town."

These kittens have discovered the computer monitor and the mouse pointer, and they're not letting me compute in peace anymore. Typing blind as we speak.

Man, that kinda sucks. Only one bid on my doll. :-P I shoulda just ended the auction and kept it for myself. At least the winner has a positive and solid feedback history.

Greed. Drool. I'm totally jonesing for a new computer: An Apple G5. Their cheapest one, with monitor and student discount, would run me about $2,300. *sigh* If I got this, all my problems would be solved.

What would I do with my old piece of shit computer? Nobody'd want it. Clean the hard drive and offer it to someone for free I guess.

Well, it's all just pipe dreams right now.

Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder

Monday, February 28, 2005

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Saturday, February 26, 2005

Friday, February 25, 2005

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Monday, February 21, 2005

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Friday, February 18, 2005

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Monday, February 14, 2005

Saturday, February 12, 2005

Friday, February 11, 2005

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Monday, February 07, 2005

Sunday, February 06, 2005

Saturday, February 05, 2005

Friday, February 04, 2005

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

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