So guess who decided to finally make an appearance? Yep, Aunt Flo has finally arrived. Ugh. Not ugh in a bad way, just ugh meaning.....I'm just tired of the drama my period brings with it. Oh well. It's here now, and I can relax until last month.
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I've gotten back into writing recently, not only in this blog but creative writing. Nerdy writing. Role playing....Harry Potter style? Ha. I'm such a geek, but I make no apologies for it. I'd hate to be one of those people who go through life taking themselves so seriously. Those people irritate me. What do they do when they wake up at the age of eighty and realize they've wasted their lives worrying about what others think? I'm glad I won't have that worry.
So back to the topic at hand. My creative juices (ha, so dirty) are flowing again, and I'm actually starting to take some joy in my new character. I've always worried that my original character I began playing with, would never be able to be topped or equaled to her level of depth. I put three years into that character. A lot of time, dedication, careful plotting and planning, and then being able to write her in a way that did her justice to the way I percieved her. My new character is beginning to feel the same for me. Her character building is bringing me the same satisfaction that I've lost once I put my original away. It's a good feeling to have something of your own. I created it, I gave it life, it lives and breathes within me, and flows through my hands onto paper or onto my computer screen and becomes real. It's a part of me, something no one can ever take from me.
It's comforting.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Rants
I really don't understand my body.
So the period ended up coming last month on the 5th of April, a whole week late, and then lasted for an awful nine days. Now, I'm a day late on my period again. I spotted once yesterday, suffered what felt like super gas in my abdomen on Sunday (which is completely normal with my periods), and today absolutely nothing, except nausea. Nausea isn't completely abnormal with my periods either as I tend to feel pretty pukey when I get gas/cramps.
I just wish I could be one of those women that could endure a normal period, for a normal amount of days, and get on with my life. This up and down game of anticipating periods, anxiety, and that annoying little voice in the back of my head that always questions pregnancy, is really starting to take it's toll on me. I'm not trying to get pregnant. I would prefer TB and I to be married, be closer to my mom, but everytime I question the idea, a part of me builds up this excitement, and suddenly I'm looking at baby sites, and thinking about pinks and blues, and I just crash when my period eventually does show up.
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TB's father passed away last week. To make an incredibly long story short, he had a massive heart attack, followed by quadruple bypass surgery, and never came out of it. TB was pretty much estranged from his father for his own reasons, but we ended up driving from Nashville, TN all the way up to Wichita, KS for the funeral. Thirteen hour drives are not fun, let me tell you, and especially unbearable driving through the flatness that is Kansas. I had the privilage of finally meeting the other side of TB's family whom are Native American, and so warm and welcoming.
TB's doing well. He's tired, and he's not talking about his father much. I don't know whether to contribute that to the fact that he just wasn't very close to his father, and therefore doesn't have much to say, or to the point that it was his father and losing a parent in itself is just heart altering. Maybe it's both. I've never lost a parent. I don't know how to help him other than just talk to him, and hold his hand when he wants to just sit quietly.
Sometimes I feel completely useless.
So the period ended up coming last month on the 5th of April, a whole week late, and then lasted for an awful nine days. Now, I'm a day late on my period again. I spotted once yesterday, suffered what felt like super gas in my abdomen on Sunday (which is completely normal with my periods), and today absolutely nothing, except nausea. Nausea isn't completely abnormal with my periods either as I tend to feel pretty pukey when I get gas/cramps.
I just wish I could be one of those women that could endure a normal period, for a normal amount of days, and get on with my life. This up and down game of anticipating periods, anxiety, and that annoying little voice in the back of my head that always questions pregnancy, is really starting to take it's toll on me. I'm not trying to get pregnant. I would prefer TB and I to be married, be closer to my mom, but everytime I question the idea, a part of me builds up this excitement, and suddenly I'm looking at baby sites, and thinking about pinks and blues, and I just crash when my period eventually does show up.
-
TB's father passed away last week. To make an incredibly long story short, he had a massive heart attack, followed by quadruple bypass surgery, and never came out of it. TB was pretty much estranged from his father for his own reasons, but we ended up driving from Nashville, TN all the way up to Wichita, KS for the funeral. Thirteen hour drives are not fun, let me tell you, and especially unbearable driving through the flatness that is Kansas. I had the privilage of finally meeting the other side of TB's family whom are Native American, and so warm and welcoming.
TB's doing well. He's tired, and he's not talking about his father much. I don't know whether to contribute that to the fact that he just wasn't very close to his father, and therefore doesn't have much to say, or to the point that it was his father and losing a parent in itself is just heart altering. Maybe it's both. I've never lost a parent. I don't know how to help him other than just talk to him, and hold his hand when he wants to just sit quietly.
Sometimes I feel completely useless.
Monday, March 31, 2008
BFN & It's Getting Old
I took a pregnancy test yesterday, seeing as my period didn't arrive on Saturday as expected. Big fat negative, just as I suspected, and no period yet. It's sort of strange. Relief came over me as I saw the negative, but at the same time, a huge weight of disappointment just plummeted into my stomach. I kept telling myself, it's for the best. You don't want to be pregnant. Now's not the time. You want to be married, be financially secure, be in a new house, etc. It's interesting, how reason is absolutely no comfort to a natural maternal instinct. It's also interesting, how that little 'Not Pregnant' completely brought down my whole Sunday, and took me on a wirlwhind of SuperBitch tendencies.
The dog has taken a disgusting habit, of being discriminitive against grass, when it comes to taking a crap. Instead, he's decided that my back porch is a lovely place to do his business, and absolutely refuses to go anywhere else. You could seriously walk this dog all damn day, and he will wait until you walk up the porch, to pop a squat and do his thing. It's the most annoying (not to mention revolting) thing a pet of mine has ever done. I am entirely too clean and neat to be able to deal with this, and up until this point all of my pets have been too. TB went out with a pressure washer yesterday, and got my porch all clean and spiffy and normal again. So what does that fucking dog do instead? He decided to trot himself upstairs and pee on my bed. He's not a puppy anymore, he's been house-trained for far too long. I'm beginning to think he does this shit because he knows it pisses me off. The only shoes he chews on, are mine. The only clothes he rips up, are mine. He listens and obeys TB just fine, but when it comes to me, he snaps and tries to bite, when I tell him no. I'm over this dog. I told TB last night to find him a new home.
On top of everything else, TR has officially driven me to my breaking point. He's found the stash of goodies I had hidden for LS's visit later this week, and eaten it all. He ate all of TB's Easter candy. His rent is due, and he hasn't even mentioned it. GK stayed the night again last night, and of course this meant that TR didn't wake up on time for work. TB had to go in and wake him up this morning, informing him that he was making me late, and then he proceeded to spend about ten minutes on the computer upstairs while I waited for him downstairs. Then, instead of telling GK to leave (as TB leaves for work the same time I do, and GK doesn't have a key), he just walks on out the door, leaving her sleeping upstairs. Hence, my front door will now be unlocked all day after GK decides to leave. I'm livid, and TR doesn't see the problem here.
I'm ten seconds away from telling him to pack his shit and find a new place to fucking leech off of.
The dog has taken a disgusting habit, of being discriminitive against grass, when it comes to taking a crap. Instead, he's decided that my back porch is a lovely place to do his business, and absolutely refuses to go anywhere else. You could seriously walk this dog all damn day, and he will wait until you walk up the porch, to pop a squat and do his thing. It's the most annoying (not to mention revolting) thing a pet of mine has ever done. I am entirely too clean and neat to be able to deal with this, and up until this point all of my pets have been too. TB went out with a pressure washer yesterday, and got my porch all clean and spiffy and normal again. So what does that fucking dog do instead? He decided to trot himself upstairs and pee on my bed. He's not a puppy anymore, he's been house-trained for far too long. I'm beginning to think he does this shit because he knows it pisses me off. The only shoes he chews on, are mine. The only clothes he rips up, are mine. He listens and obeys TB just fine, but when it comes to me, he snaps and tries to bite, when I tell him no. I'm over this dog. I told TB last night to find him a new home.
On top of everything else, TR has officially driven me to my breaking point. He's found the stash of goodies I had hidden for LS's visit later this week, and eaten it all. He ate all of TB's Easter candy. His rent is due, and he hasn't even mentioned it. GK stayed the night again last night, and of course this meant that TR didn't wake up on time for work. TB had to go in and wake him up this morning, informing him that he was making me late, and then he proceeded to spend about ten minutes on the computer upstairs while I waited for him downstairs. Then, instead of telling GK to leave (as TB leaves for work the same time I do, and GK doesn't have a key), he just walks on out the door, leaving her sleeping upstairs. Hence, my front door will now be unlocked all day after GK decides to leave. I'm livid, and TR doesn't see the problem here.
I'm ten seconds away from telling him to pack his shit and find a new place to fucking leech off of.
Friday, March 28, 2008
I'm On My Way to Heart Attack Valley
It really fucking irritates me when I can't grasp something right away. Today the boss asked me to do some rate revisions for a client we're adamantly trying to contract with, and for some cock and balls reason, I couldn't get my head around the procedures and what exactly I needed to do.
For starters the boss calls me during lunch hour, while she's out and about on spring break with her kids. Apparantly bosses do not believe in complete vacations. (On a side note, my vacation is next week, and I fully intend to shut off my phone and put an Out-Of-Office reply on my email.) Being the loyal minion I am, I jumped on the phone and hurriedly took some sort of abstract notes while she rambled on about rate revisals. The entire time, I'm nodding my head at the phone saying, "Got it. Got it. Mhm. You bet." while I literally had no flipping idea what she was talking about. Something about internal and external rates, followed by percentages of what we recieved, reduce rate by 10.00 if over fifteen, divide by the square root of 8945326584.3 and label it all on a spreadsheet.
So there I was, scowling at the computer screen for ten minutes at a blank Excel spreadsheet, my hardly touched Chinese food now discarded in the trash can. Not a clue in my mind as to what I was really supposed to do here. I'm not like some people, whom can somehow turn into Albert Einstein and bring the second-rising of Christ with them in their stressful moments. I completely crumble. My heart rate picks up, my head goes into my hands, I turn three shades of red, and the first person to talk to me usually gets to feel the blunt end of my stress.
It's a genetic thing, completely gift-wrapped and topped with a bow. Labeled: "Love, Dad".
So after finally relenting, and deciding I'm going to have to let my boss know I'm a complete moron, I call her up, only to find out the key to my stress-relief was lying neatly on her desk, just waiting for me to find it. Yep, after twenty minutes of a near heart-attack, I was so thankful she hadn't told me this tidbit in the first place. I get this project done in a total of four minutes, and I'm left sitting here feeling like a complete dumbass. A dumbass that took twenty AND four minutes figuring out how to do a simple project. Corporate America just sucks.
Anywho, period is due tomorrow, so I guess I'll see if my uterus is inhabited or not. Whatever that women's intuition thing is, it's totally not working for me. Other women said they could feel it the second they concieved. Others say they know exactly when their period is coming. Must be nice. My body is the quiet killer, as I like to call it. Everything sneaks up on me. No warning signs, nada.
TB and TR had the day off today, though for the life of me, I can't figure out why TR did. He works five days a week, on a set schedule so I'm thinking his rift with GK last night led him to being an emo bitch this morning, thus calling out of work. TR is really starting to piss me off. He moved into our house about a month and a half ago, never cleans up after himself, never OFFERS to clean up after himself, still has yet to get a car, trots GK in here like he's getting a two for one deal on rent, 'accidently' locks himself out of the house at all hours of the night, invites people into his room when GK is butt ass naked on the floor. He's just gross, and he's about to find himself out on the street.
Only six more days of being young. Sigh. Twenty-three is coming way too fast.
For starters the boss calls me during lunch hour, while she's out and about on spring break with her kids. Apparantly bosses do not believe in complete vacations. (On a side note, my vacation is next week, and I fully intend to shut off my phone and put an Out-Of-Office reply on my email.) Being the loyal minion I am, I jumped on the phone and hurriedly took some sort of abstract notes while she rambled on about rate revisals. The entire time, I'm nodding my head at the phone saying, "Got it. Got it. Mhm. You bet." while I literally had no flipping idea what she was talking about. Something about internal and external rates, followed by percentages of what we recieved, reduce rate by 10.00 if over fifteen, divide by the square root of 8945326584.3 and label it all on a spreadsheet.
So there I was, scowling at the computer screen for ten minutes at a blank Excel spreadsheet, my hardly touched Chinese food now discarded in the trash can. Not a clue in my mind as to what I was really supposed to do here. I'm not like some people, whom can somehow turn into Albert Einstein and bring the second-rising of Christ with them in their stressful moments. I completely crumble. My heart rate picks up, my head goes into my hands, I turn three shades of red, and the first person to talk to me usually gets to feel the blunt end of my stress.
It's a genetic thing, completely gift-wrapped and topped with a bow. Labeled: "Love, Dad".
So after finally relenting, and deciding I'm going to have to let my boss know I'm a complete moron, I call her up, only to find out the key to my stress-relief was lying neatly on her desk, just waiting for me to find it. Yep, after twenty minutes of a near heart-attack, I was so thankful she hadn't told me this tidbit in the first place. I get this project done in a total of four minutes, and I'm left sitting here feeling like a complete dumbass. A dumbass that took twenty AND four minutes figuring out how to do a simple project. Corporate America just sucks.
Anywho, period is due tomorrow, so I guess I'll see if my uterus is inhabited or not. Whatever that women's intuition thing is, it's totally not working for me. Other women said they could feel it the second they concieved. Others say they know exactly when their period is coming. Must be nice. My body is the quiet killer, as I like to call it. Everything sneaks up on me. No warning signs, nada.
TB and TR had the day off today, though for the life of me, I can't figure out why TR did. He works five days a week, on a set schedule so I'm thinking his rift with GK last night led him to being an emo bitch this morning, thus calling out of work. TR is really starting to piss me off. He moved into our house about a month and a half ago, never cleans up after himself, never OFFERS to clean up after himself, still has yet to get a car, trots GK in here like he's getting a two for one deal on rent, 'accidently' locks himself out of the house at all hours of the night, invites people into his room when GK is butt ass naked on the floor. He's just gross, and he's about to find himself out on the street.
Only six more days of being young. Sigh. Twenty-three is coming way too fast.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
First Things First
I haven't had a blog since I was nineteen years old, and I have no honest idea what has compelled to me to start up again. The last time obviously didn't end well, though I must admit, it had a mighty good run for three years.
Maybe it's the fact that, exactly one week from today, I turn the dreaded age of twenty-three years old. I know the typical reaction to my supposed 'dread' is shock, horror, raised-eyebrows and a lovely, "Oh honey, shut the fuck up. Wait until you turn forty." Well, I'm not necessarily looking forward to forty either, to be honest with you, but twenty-three to me just feels so damn old. It's been five years since high school, and I'm only seven years away from thirty. Let me tell you, ladies and gents, these past five years have gone by in the blink of an eye, and I expect the next seven to pick up the pace. Before I know it, I'll be slapping on the Icy Hot, bitching about my arthritis, and visiting the cardiologist twice a week. The best thing I have to look forward to now, as far as birthdays go, is twenty-five when I can rent a car without paying excruciatingly ridiculous age fees.
TB came inside me for the first time, a couple of weeks ago, and seeing as my doctors have ordered me away from birth control, as it does funky things to my body that we won't discuss, I have a feeling this is going to turn out odd. I get to take a pregnancy test on Saturday so I'll get to see if I'm knocked up or not. Is it odd that I'm not really partial to one way or another? Though I have suddenly acquired the strange habit of sticking my belly flab out whenever I walk by a mirror now, as though that might give me a vague idea of what Pregnant Me might look like. I'm sure the stretch marks, and crabbiness, aside from my normal crabbiness of course, would be horrendous. Not really looking forward to constant gas either, but meh. What are you gonna do, you know? I guess not be an irresponsible cunt like I've been. But I'm pretty set in the ground with my career and everything. It wouldn't be the worst possible thing to happen to me.
Plus I turn twenty-three next week.
Maybe it's the fact that, exactly one week from today, I turn the dreaded age of twenty-three years old. I know the typical reaction to my supposed 'dread' is shock, horror, raised-eyebrows and a lovely, "Oh honey, shut the fuck up. Wait until you turn forty." Well, I'm not necessarily looking forward to forty either, to be honest with you, but twenty-three to me just feels so damn old. It's been five years since high school, and I'm only seven years away from thirty. Let me tell you, ladies and gents, these past five years have gone by in the blink of an eye, and I expect the next seven to pick up the pace. Before I know it, I'll be slapping on the Icy Hot, bitching about my arthritis, and visiting the cardiologist twice a week. The best thing I have to look forward to now, as far as birthdays go, is twenty-five when I can rent a car without paying excruciatingly ridiculous age fees.
TB came inside me for the first time, a couple of weeks ago, and seeing as my doctors have ordered me away from birth control, as it does funky things to my body that we won't discuss, I have a feeling this is going to turn out odd. I get to take a pregnancy test on Saturday so I'll get to see if I'm knocked up or not. Is it odd that I'm not really partial to one way or another? Though I have suddenly acquired the strange habit of sticking my belly flab out whenever I walk by a mirror now, as though that might give me a vague idea of what Pregnant Me might look like. I'm sure the stretch marks, and crabbiness, aside from my normal crabbiness of course, would be horrendous. Not really looking forward to constant gas either, but meh. What are you gonna do, you know? I guess not be an irresponsible cunt like I've been. But I'm pretty set in the ground with my career and everything. It wouldn't be the worst possible thing to happen to me.
Plus I turn twenty-three next week.
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