Guess Who’s Back in the House!

Well, I have been AWOL for a while, haven’t I? Lots happening.

(Technically AWOL means Absent Without Leave, but this is my blog, so who am supposed to ask for leave? Myself? Should I submit a request in writing?)

Anyway, today I came to talk about weight loss, via my own viewpoint.

I admit it. I got stuck. I lost forty pounds of the sixty four I wanted to and then-Cue tire screech. I don’t know if I was tired or frustrated or bored, but nothing was working.

So then I gave up. NOM NOM NOM FOOD.

I hate French fries because I love them. I avoided not excellent fries but damn, fresh cut fries with a hint of salt and ketchup. Awwwwwww yeah.

Fro-yo needs to stop pretending that it’s healthy. When half of the toppings in the topping bar are candy, STOP PRETENDING that you are anything but somewhat lower calorie ice cream. And you can get as much as you want. Ice cream is actually safer sometimes, at least with ice cream you get a set amount and you pay for it and you leave. Fro-yo is all OH HERE IS A CUP THAT WE PRETEND IS SMALL BUT FILL IT UP WITH TONS OF FROZEN YOGURT AND FRUIT AND RASPBERRY CHOCOLATE AND STRAWBERRY TAPIOCA PEARL THINGS AND THEN YOU HAVE OUNCES UPON OUNCES OF DELICIOUS COLD CALORIES. OF HEALTH LIES.

(Also, black sesame ice cream? SCREW YOU, YOU BASTARD I love you, call me xxx.)

Then, of course, the Frappuccino. Now, I get Mocha Light Frappuccinos. Skinny mocha sauce, non fat milk, the whole she-bang. But. But. What comes out of my mouth is ‘Venti skinny mocha Frappuccino. With whip. And two pumps of raspberry.’ The result? Twenty four ounces of icy chocolate pseudo coffee goodness topped with a crown of whipped cream and oh god it’s good but it’s so bad. It’s like wearing a conservative outfit buttoned up to the chin but then you’ve got a corset and lace semi see through crotch-less panties underneath and no one knows. Get on with your bad self.

So. Yeah. I, plus seven new pounds (grumble pudgy face), am trying to get back on track.

I am tracking on Weight Watchers and on My Fitness Pal (with custom goals), and holy hell am I all over the place.

One: I eat sooooo many carbs. My proportions are about 70% carbs to 13% fat to 17% protein. It’s a little ridiculous. I gotta give up the waffles. Breakfast should have protein! Maybe I’ll do a smoothie and eggs. Something.

Two: Night time? OMG I WANT CHIPS. ICE CREAM. HONEYCOMB CEREAL! At the moment I’m munching on the occasional apple and drinking tea. I also need to start doing origami again. Keeps your hands busy. I made a bird! And a little box. But man, cranes are hard.

Three: Man, I keep eating my feelings. Happy? TIME FOR ICE CREAM! Sad? *sob into food* Angry? Booze and chips! Bored: …whatever.

I should just use my elliptical more. It’s just so easy not to!

But, starting next week, there are going to be fitness classes in my life. (High intensity core, yoga and/or Zumba!) So I think that will help.

I just have to fit in exercise in between classes, studying, homework, writing, cooking, dog, boyfriend (I love you magpie!) and whatever else happens to fall on my head. Whatever. It’s past midnight, I’m supposed to be sleeping. And in the morning? I’m not making waffles!

…

I’m making ginger cookies instead.

Oh boy.

Socially Awkwardly Speaking

 

I read this today, Socially Awkward isn’t an excuse. Go read it, it’s a good article.

It’s awesome. And I’m saying that as someone who is, in fact, socially awkward.

My entire adolescence, counting the beginning of my college career, I was really socially awkward.

Not to put too fine a point on it, there were a lot of times I came off as creepy.

And as the article points out, people who are actually socially awkward? Care that they don’t know where the lines are. I had no idea, I only knew when I had crossed the line. When I had upset someone. When I’d got it wrong. And it upset me every time.

It took a lot of therapy and people pushing me away for me to learn. Even now, it’s not innate. I have to be aware of what I say and how I say it, how I carry myself. I know where the lines are, for the most part. And I’m a woman; I come off as less creepy by default. But all the same, sometimes I was really creepy, and I know I upset people. I’m sorry for that.

I could say that I had issues. I did, and pretty serious ones. I still do. But it’s not an excuse. I can’t apologize for my behavior, I’m pretty sure the person in question never wants to hear from me again. All I can say is that I had no ill intent. Not once.

Creepers? The ones who know where the boundaries are, and don’t care? They should stop making excuses that make people with real social problems look worse than they already do, and get over themselves. As someone who is socially awkward and reformed from creepy behavior, I ask them to cut it out.

***

I have been trying not to say or use the word ‘retarded’. It’s ableist, and I don’t want to be that. Or hurt anyone’s feelings. (I mean, I would never use it to refer to someone with a mental disability.) But sometimes I just use it casually, like ‘Oh, that’s retarded.’ And I’m not saying everyone has to stop using it, or that I’ve stopped doing it entirely, ’cause I haven’t. But everyone, just try to be aware. I think we’d be better off.

***

Magpie and I are still together and happy. It’ll be a year this summer. We’re so comfortable together.

It’s not that I don’t have issues with our relationship. I mean, we have a little friction here and there, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

I hate my past sometimes. It interferes.

Sometimes when he’s holding me I want to squirm away from him. But it’s not really him I want to get away from. I have nightmares more often now. I don’t sleep as well when he’s next to me, even though I love when he’s there.

And as much as he proves every day that he’s in love with me and cares for me, that he wouldn’t change me…something in the back of my head tells me, every day:

Be careful. He could hurt you. He might change. He might pin you down and take everything from you.

This isn’t something you want lurking in your mind, about your boyfriend. About anyone.

I’ve told him about this.

And you know what?

He still wants to be with me. He loves me enough to work with me.

Aren’t I lucky?

For the first time in my life, I really think I am.

Sincerely yours,

J.J

Attitude is everything.

I am having a down day, which led to me missing the walk in advising hours that I need to attend for class, which leads me to tell myself that I’m useless and I should give up.

But I sent an e-mail to an instructor on the advising schedule, and we see what we do, no? I’ll keep going. And try to write in the meantime. I’ve got work tomorrow.

I don’t like work anymore.

And you know why? The director of the place where I work is terrible. I think a good boss is someone who can manage, delegate, take responsibility, and tell people the truth without dragging them down. Someone who can inspire people to follow them, rather than someone who is followed because their subordinates have no choice.

She called me into her office, and blindsided me with everything I was doing wrong. (I was out for a while with the stomach flu, and apparently I had a chronic lateness problem, which no one mentioned up until that moment. I admit that being late isn’t good, but it wasn’t as if I was strolling in half an hour late every day, and again, no one said anything.)

And my real problem was that the entire meeting was essentially ‘This is why you suck, and I should fire you, but I’m doing you a favor and not doing it’ and she was condescending the entire time. I was in tears. And apparently I’m not the only one she’s done this to! People are uncomfortable. And my co-workers say they enjoy my presence and that I work well with them and that I can do the job. No one has complained about how I work or how I speak to them, yet she said that my former immediate superior said I came off as defensive. Yet no one told me that either so that I could modify my behavior before it got to that level!

Sorry. I’m mad. So now I don’t feel confident at work anymore, if I see the director I get tense and I think poorly of her, I notice other people’s complaints more…it’s not a good environment. I’ll last until I’ve been there a year, and then I’m done. It’s not as if it’s my dream job anyway.

I know everyone can’t have their dream job. But I think I could make it as a writer, or maybe an editor, if I study, if I practice! Besides, I think I’ve figured out that a nine to five doing something that I don’t like or is boring isn’t sustainable for me anyway. I’m such a delicate flower, after all. Tee hee.

Like I said, attitude is everything. And even though today is a down day, I think everything is going to be all right.

On a high note, Magpie got a new job. Yay! He is super excited, as he gets. (Maybe not quite as excited as he is about the game he’s writing, but he’s pretty into his own head anyway.) Maybe a little place together isn’t so far off.

It’s a little scary to be making future plans, but I’m going to go with it. Attitude is everything.

…even when your boss sucks.

Sincerely yours,

J.J

 

How Long is the Honeymoon Period, anyway?

I’m at work, so I guess technically I’m not supposed to be blogging, but a. Nothing is going on except for the occasional phone call and client coming in, b. no one is watching me, and c. it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m bored.

So whatever.

I think I have a cold, which means it’s probably advisable not to get super drunk tonight? Right? Anyone?

Nah. Totally drinking anyway. Also possibly getting cake. ‘Cause it wasn’t just my birthday or anything and I didn’t eat…about half the cake? No, it wasn’t half the cake. I mean, Magpie (my boyfriend, so nicknamed because of his propensity to spot and pick up shiny things on the ground) had some, Mom had some, and two others had some, so…maybe I ate a third of the cake over…four days? (Guess what my New Year’s Resolution is? Back on Weight Watchers!)

Cake cake cake cake cake. Seriously, if anyone’s ever in New York City- (Is this the first time I’ve actually mentioned where I am? No one come look for me! Tee hee. Actually, if I ever met anyone who read this blog I’d probably be all OMG let’s be friends and want to swap e-mails.)

Anyway, if anyone’s in New York City, go to Sal’s and…is it Dino?’s Crap, I don’t remember and I can’t check Yelp on my-oh, never mind, I can. (I’ve been surfing the net for the last fifteen minutes or so. I am easily distracted. Especially by Cake Wrecks.) Anyway, it’s Sal’s and Dom’s. Best red velvet cake I’ve had. So. Good. OMG. It’s in the Bronx and around the holidays it’s a madhouse but OMG CAKE. EAT IT.

Ahem. I love cake. That is all.

I really do have to work out more, my stamina is crap. It probably doesn’t help that I stopped working out after I got the stomach flu, which wiped me out even after I stopped throwing up. Nausea plus dizziness plus exhaustion equals J.J. curled up in front of Netflix and eating sour candies and drinking ginger ale and not moving.

I have really started baking. For the holidays I made gingerbread cookies, brownies for Magpie’s parents, sugar cookies for a holiday party, and now I want to learn to make bread, so I’m doing what I always do and going online to read tutorials. …I supposed I will have to buy a loaf pan. I mean, I think I have one, but a. I have no idea where it is or what shape it’s in, b. I really don’t feel like ransacking my entire kitchen to find it, and c. I seem to end up needing two for this recipe I found. So two new loaf pans it is.

I also need to practice piping icing, ’cause holy hell it is harder than it looks. You think you just squeeze the bag, the icing comes out in a neat little line, and you paint smiles on your gingerbread people/decorations on your cake. No! You have to squeeze the bag with both hands, and keep it steady or it looks like you’re trying to make dashes instead of lines, and the icing has to be fresh and if you squeeze too hard you just make a mess and if you squeeze too lightly nothing happens or the icing comes out in these dots that look like white bunny poop. Man, this sudden desire to be Betty Crocker is difficult.

It’s so quiet. I think I’ll play some music. *goes to Pandora* Ooh, Rent. Light My Candle is pretty depressing, really. ‘Hey, my girlfriend died/I do drugs and I’m a S&M dancer/I think I like you/Me too/Our lives aren’t that great.’

Oh, I got my first rejection! A few weeks ago, from the student literary magazine. I was almost expecting it, because I rushed my submission, but I still hoped. But no. I was apparently trying to be Lolita, cliché, and lacking editing skills. Ouch. I guess I’d better step it up, or get into a new gig, no? It’s a little humbling, when I thought I could just go on in, but I guess writing really is like everything else, in which you have to practice.

Holy cheese, 700 words and I just now get to the topic mentioned in the title of the post.

How long is the honeymoon period? After lengthy research (by which I mean whatever sites I could get to from Google that aren’t blocked at work), it seems to be anywhere from a few months to two years after marriage. So, what, I’m going to be happy to see Magpie for…well, I don’t think we’re getting married anytime soon, but we’ve survived my mood swings, my stomach flu, his issues, my issues, small arguments, and the fact that we both live with our parents, and it’s only been six months-ish. So, is our honeymoon period over? How are you supposed to know? And I’ve seen people together twenty years who act like they’re still mad about each other and people who break up a few months in, so how does that work?

I think this is typical me. ‘I’m happy with something. WHAT’S GOING TO GO WRONG?’

You know what? I’m just going to go with it. I’m happy. I’m not going to try to dissect it for once. If our biggest issue that he doesn’t like that I eat pork (he doesn’t on the grounds that pigs are smart and that chicken and fish are stupid and therefore okay to eat) and I get annoyed that he tries to do high kicks on the subway platform and people stare, I think we’re fine.  (I’m considering maybe giving up pork. Maybe. I like pork. If he promises not to do high kicks on the subway ’cause it’s embarrassing and I worry that he’ll accidentally kick someone and then we become the people who get into a fight on the subway.)

I think I might buy him some pants next paycheck. He needs new pants that don’t look like they’re made to do construction in. He doesn’t really dress up ever ’cause he’s that type. But he looks so good in a button down! /stupid girlfriend whining

I try not to be the ‘omg change your clothes fix your hair what are those shoes’ girlfriend, I really do, but it’s like, ‘Babe, you dress like you’re in high school, stop it.’ Oh well, it doesn’t seem to bother him much. He’s pretty unflappable. Unless I make him watch Project Runway, which he doesn’t like. Probably because it’s about drama and clothes, two things he doesn’t care about. But he says I’m a good girlfriend, so I will try to stay that way. Also we have excellent cuddles and he’s emotionally supportive and- *stops before she goes on and on about how awesome the BF is*

Quick really shameful shallow note: I sometimes wish he were hotter. I mean, I’m attracted to him, and he’s not ugly by any means. But I think my urge to dress him up is a shallow need to have other people think he’s attractive and think that I have an ugly boyfriend. But that’s treating him like a status symbol, and he’s a person, and a good person at that, so I’m trying to get over it. I’m no model anyway. (I’m pretty, but that’s totally different.) Well, actually, a lot of models aren’t that pretty, if we’re talking about conventionally pretty. They’re too tall and angular and such. Whatever. My point is that I love him, but I am apparently shallow enough to wish that he would not dress and cut his hair like a high schooler! I’m going to get stopped one day by a cop who thinks I’ve got a boy-toy!

Okay, this post is getting long, so I’m going to stop now. Happy New Year, everyone!

Sincerely yours,

J.J

A Christmas Reapperance

Merry Christmas Everyone!

I have a part time job in an office! Had it for a few months now, but I’ve been MIA so I’m announcing it now with the celebratory call of the employed: YESSSSSSSSSMON-NAY!

I mean, I’ll probably only be here until September, because I’ve been promised full time schooling in the fall! YAY FOR EDUCATION! But then I’ll go back to food service and not wearing real clothes to work. Unless I get a super ultimately cool internship! Which would be super ultimately cool! (…I’ve been watching too much anime.)

Still with my new boyfriend! (I mean, we’ve been dating since July, so he’s not new, per say, but whatever.) We spent Thanksgiving with his family and we’re splitting Christmas between lunch with his parents and the rest of the day with my family! We’ve survived my stomach flu, we don’t fight (well, I mean, we disagree, but we communicate!) and we laugh a lot.

He’s still not super hunky, but sometimes I get this fluttery caramel feeling looking at his face. I don’t get it.

We’ve exchanged ‘I love you’s. He said it first. I totally said it without planning; it just popped out. It makes me excited and terrified and OMG and like a cork popped out of a bottle of champagne when I wasn’t expecting it.

My therapist worries that it’s not a good thing, since he’s only tutoring right now and doesn’t have a steady job and might not be a forever kind of guy. I hope he turns out to be, but I hear where she’s coming from. It’s not like he’s not looking for work or something. He’s not very materialistic, but I think he likes the idea of supporting me and saving up for a place,  so I think it’ll give him a good kick in the butt even though he’s not a fan of job searching, it stresses him out. (He’s less social than I am, if you can believe it.)

I like having a job. Makes me feel like I have purpose and such. Not as much as a publishing job would, but you know, baby steps!

I have gotten totally into baking lately. I really hope a mixer is under the tree tomorrow, the one I have is a bit old and only has those silver mixing curly sticks. I bought all my presents already, but tonight is wrapping night/brownie night! I’m making my boyfriend’s parents brownies for Christmas. And the buzz from him is that my family totally likes me! YAAAAAY.

What’s everyone hoping for this Christmas? (Or what did you get for Hanukkah?)

Also, what exactly is up with Instagram? Everyone at work is all ‘Oh, I don’t do Facebook, Instagram is where it’s at’.

 

I think I’m going to start over again with Weight Watchers in the New Year. I’ve been stuck stuck stuck at 152 since my stupid stomach flu-I lost about four pounds but then was so weak afterwards that I totally stopped exercising and then the holidays came around and there was pie and stuffing and office parties and…and…I am weak to those things. And it’s almost my birthday, which means my favorite red velvet cake…yup, New Year’s Resolution is the best way to go. Get back on the wagon, so to speak! I’m not going the ‘It’s the holidays, so it doesn’t count’ route though, I might as well accept another five pounds, and I’m not doing that!

 

Did everyone watch this season of the Walking Dead? IT WAS AWESOME. It comes back in February, so if you’re behind, it’s time to catch up! Unless you can’t do gore, ’cause this show has blood and guts everywhere.

Oh, other New Year’s resolutions: More posts and more writing!

Speaking of which, I really should be doing that, so I’ll sign off. Merry Christmas, everyone, and if I don’t get on, Happy New Year too!

Sincerely yours,

J.J

I was going to write a coherent post. Then stuff happened.

 

Drum roll please.

…I SAID DRUM ROLL PLEASE.

Thank you!

I…

Have a new boyfriend! OMG! It’s so crazy.

Now, he’s no Benedict Cumberbatch. (Is anyone?) I think that’s only occurred to me because the media has constantly provided us with the idea that love requires physical near-perfection and constant conflict,

He might not be the prettiest face, but he’s not ugly, and I like him very much. What’s the quote? ‘Love is not finding a perfect person, but learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.’ Don’t remember who said it. The words are more important.

I’ll call him…hmmm, he needs a nickname. I will call him Sweetness, ’cause he is really quite sweet. Sometimes sweeter than I can handle.

He’s not exactly clingy, but he can hover a little bit. He likes to hold my hand, which I don’t mind. And he cares. He remembers little things. I mentioned a book I couldn’t get from the library, he found it for me. When I was having a bad day he told me to call him any time. And I feel safe in his arms. For me, that means a lot.

Also (innocents, cover your ears), I haven’t had full on sex with him yet. He seems to enjoy getting me off,  quietly, and we haven’t had much privacy, so it’s really slow, especially for me.  And he’s okay with it.

I think that’s the best part. Plus the hope.

The hope that maybe it’s forever. And the hope that we’ll have fun. We already have fun. We’re awkward together, we’re fun together, we wander around for hours and never get bored. We like to cuddle.

Let’s see where we are by December.

In the meantime, I think I’m getting a cold, so I’m going to keep this short.

What’s everyone’s favorite part of a relationship?

Sincerely yours,

J.J.

P.S. I’ve gained four pounds. I weep. But Sweetness wants me to go jogging with him, so that’ll be fun, no?

Starbucks Is Eating All My Money

I have a Frappuccino addiction, and with someone at my income level it is devastating. I have very little money, and when I get money, do I save it? Nope. I justify that whatever piddly amount I have isn’t worth putting towards my student loans or savings and spend it like I have thousands just waiting to be spent. It’s not like I have rent or bills or anything, so who cares, goes the mentality. Oddly enough, once I have a steady paycheck, I’ll probably be a lot better with money and budgeting.

Also, any of the Light Frappuccinos at Starbucks don’t automatically come with Skinny syrup. They are made with skim milk and I think the base is different, but the syrup isn’t, you have to ask for that separately. It doesn’t change the price, but you would think that the low calorie version would have sugar free syrup, or at least the versions that  would use the sugar free syrups that they already carry. Yes? No?

Other things I hate about Starbucks:

1. Baristas who get pissed when you tell them they messed up your drink. I’ve done that job, I know once a drink is done you want to forget about it. But I never got an attitude about it.

2. People who don’t know what they want. ‘I want something with chocolate. No, I don’t know what it’s called. I WANT CHOCOLATE.’

3. The ‘real’ Starbucks are inconsistent as hell when they make my Frappuccinos. Too thick, ice chunks, funny taste. I have a favorite barista in the frickin’ Barnes and Noble Starbucks. She makes it perfectly. I need her to make a tutorial or something.

Now there is a break, because I had to take a Benedryl and I’m too sleepy to type properly.

THE NEXT DAY

Bobbi Brown wrote this makeup manual, and the girly part of me that doesn’t care about practicality or sense or anything that isn’t soft and pink and glittery is all OMG I MUST HAVE ALL OF THESE PRODUCTS WHEE. The rest of me is all ‘…who the hell has the time or money or inclination to buy and use of these things? There’s twenty different brushes and sponges and what?’ Maybe I’m just bitter because I can never find a makeup that covers but doesn’t give me zits and doesn’t feel like thin cake batter on my face. …or maybe I don’t want to spend twenty minutes every day fixing my face and blending foundation and penciling my eyebrows.

…maybe I should get a makeup consultation or something. Or read the rest of the book. When I have money to buy it and take it home and put different things on my face.

Okay, now I’m going to talk about Active Link, Weight Watcher’s activity tracker thingy. I am now obsessed with it. I feel badly about myself if I don’t get 100% activity goal every day. It’ll be ten thirty at night and I’m doing jumping jacks like a mad woman going ‘I’M ONLY 98%, I HAVE TO MAKE 100% ARGH I AM OBSESSED.

No, really, I keep poking the jiggly areas of my body in frustration and then I go into plank. And then I eat baby carrots and pita chips and hummus. Mmm. So crunchy.

And I really really really want to like yogurt. And I don’t unless it’s really sweetened, which totally defeats the purpose of yogurt. So I want a smoothie, but then it tastes too much like yogurt and I don’t like it unless I put Crystal Light in it and ARGH HEALTHY FILLING EATING IS HARD. Sometimes I just want a cheeseburger with bacon and fries. And a milkshake. A chocolate milkshake. Sigh.

But I’m having a turkey burger with grilled potatoes, possibly with steamed broccoli. And that’s pretty good too.

Sincerely yours,

J.J

After a long absence.

I got an internship! YAY! Now so long as my various psychological problems don’t interfere, I should be fine. …oh boy. Got lots to talk about in therapy.

I think tonight is going to be a pondering post.

1. Why are people still debating about abortion? It’s the same points over and over, this 20-weeks thing is unconstitutional, and it seems no one is ever going to come to an agreement on it. I personally am very happy that no one can tell me to have a baby I don’t want, and the first person to tell me that if I don’t want a baby I should stop having sex is going to get kicked in the rear. Everyone should have access to contraception, use it, and the government can shut it about what’s going on in my uterus.

2. According to a lot of the comments on judgybitch, (I’m not linking to her, look it up if you want), if I want to get a man and not be a slut who will eventually have nothing to offer, I should wash his clothes, cater to his every need, make him sandwiches, and put him before myself in every respect, and then he’ll take care of me. My response to this was: Huh? What happened to marriage being a partnership?  I always thought marriage should be more of a ‘Hey, you wash the clothes and mow the lawn, I’ll cook dinner and clean the floors, and then we’ll sit down with the kids and eat and put the kids to bed and have some good sex and go to sleep’ sort of deal. I want to lean on someone, sure, but I want them to lean on me too. Equals. See?

…I’ve been reading up on it, and everyone seems to have an opinion and rules on love, and I don’t think anyone really knows. I’m just going to wing it.

…

You know what I think? Eighty percent of the world’s problems would be solved if everyone minded their own goddamn business about things that weren’t any of their business. If no one is being hurt or taken advantage of,  shut up about it.

OH NO THOSE PEOPLE OVER THERE ARE HAVING SEX THAT I DON’T APPROVE OF! …are they making you have sex? No? Shut up about it. OH NO THOSE PEOPLE ARE PRACTICING A RELIGION I DON’T APPROVE OF! …are they making you practice the religion? No? Shut up about it. OH NO THOSE PEOPLE ARE BEING RIDICULOUS AND I DON’T APPROVE! Are they making you act ridiculous? No? Shut up about it. (I need to follow that last one.)

With that stuff out of the way, we can focus on curing disease and ending world hunger and discovering cold fusion. And maybe play some Angry Birds in our down time. (Also, how weird is it that I’m totally broke, but still have an iPhone? This country is weird. And privileged. I occasionally remind myself that despite all the crap that I’ve been through, my life isn’t that bad. I have a place to sleep and privacy and air conditioning and I’m not starving and working three jobs to pay the rent on a one bedroom fifth floor walk up that I share with three other people. And that’s only bad by American standards.)

After a certain man ran off to Hong Kong, my brother was all OMG CAMERAS IN THE WALLS. Paranoia scares me, especially when it defies logic. There are millions of people in this country, too many for a small number to sit around and watch all day and night. This isn’t 1984. There is potential to be observed, and I object to that for the sake of our civil liberties, but practically speaking, I’m pretty sure the government isn’t listening to my phone calls.

Any sort of unquestioning belief bothers me. I just question everything. Except for gravity. I like believing in gravity, it makes it easier to get to the store.

Sincerely yours,

J.J

Cloudy Nights and Champagne

This is how I first pronounced the word champagne: SHAM-pag-neh. I had only ever seen it written and I was probably about twelve at the time. Funny.

In case it comes across later, I have imbibed a small bottle of champagne and I have the alcohol tolerance of a weasel.

If I ever go to China, all I will be able to say in Chinese is ‘Hello’ (nihao) ‘moon’ (yue) and TV (dian shi). Two of those words I learned from fortune cookies and the other I learned from Cardcaptor Sakura. Awesome. Aces. Whatever.

Pretty Woman is a stupid movie. I love it.

I hate Facebook. Everyone uses it to communicate and it makes me feel socially awkward and superior because 96% of Facebook is INANE BULLSHIT.

You know what else is bullshit? That there are SIX Fast and Furious movies. SIX. All of which consist of half naked women and vehicles exploding. I tried watching Tokyo Drift once and there was so little plot I decided to watch Teen Mom instead!

Yet when I want to watch a movie, I get overruled in favor of one of those movies? American cinema depresses me.

I know nothing about Star Trek except Patrick Stewart says ‘make it so’. I want to see Into Darkness because Benedict Cumberbatch is in it and because he’s the new Sherlock Holmes that rocks my socks off. Is it weird that my ideal man is a fictional arrogant dysfunctional  borderline sociopathic asexual who shoots holes in the wall when he’s  bored? I mean, I doubt he would make a good husband or father, but good god if I met a man like that I just might follow him to the ends of the earth.

 

Ooh, new topic. I have a few neuroses. One of these is that I am very unnerved by anyone entering my space. If I come back to my room and anything is disturbed, it freaks me out. Even if it’s been cleaned. I’m still like ‘OMG SPACE INVADED ARGH’. Thanks for violating my spirit and body further, abuser! /sarcasm

My family is aware of this. However, it seems my idiot brother doesn’t get it. I came home today, and my bed was remade incorrectly. Boom, alarm bells. I pull the sheet back, and my fitted sheet is gone, replaced by some other one. And he admits he was in my bed. I want to smack him in the mouth. He has no reason to be in my bed, and I can’t handle having my bed touched, I don’t like anyone sleeping in my bed unless I’m sleeping with them. Period. And I’ve told him this.

It’s disrespectful, and he doesn’t care. Should my mother not set him straight, I’m going to say, to his face, ‘Your daddy liked to come into my room at night and creep into my bed, so now I DON’T LIKE IT WHEN OTHER PEOPLE DO THAT.’ Maybe that will get his attention. Good god.

Another new topic!

My godmother’s daughter (who I think of as a younger cousin) had her bridal shower today. It was lovely. We got her a cocktail shaker and a bottle opener, both shaped like sperm whales. She loved them. Which was good, because someone else got her the same thing. She and her husband-to-be like their drinks, so they’ll get use out of them, at least. Bridal showers are fun. It was a little sad because my godmother really should have been there, but she’s been dead for almost a year, so instead we all got to tear up when one of the gifts was a drawing in a glass frame of the bride and her mother. My mother cried. Then we had cake.

…and that’s about it, and my buzz is pretty much worn off, so now I can sleep. I hope everyone is having a good weekend. And I’m back again!

Sincerely yours,

J.J

Restless

 

That’s basically how I am now.

I don’t want to be home, but I don’t want to be out, because I don’t really have anywhere to be, and I’d rather be home doing nothing or writing than be out wandering. I have to be in a certain mood to wander. It’s not like I’m in a new city or country, where wandering will always lead to something different. Here, I have paths that I have walked, and the part of me is nervous and scared of anything unfamiliar doesn’t like to be forced off the path without a specific destination.

So I’m going to try a new thing, starting this week sometime. I think I will pick a destination, and head for it, and explore that way. Once I’m out, it’s much harder to run and hide, and the part of me that loves new things will be too busy looking around to let the scared part protest. Once the weather is a little warmer, I will return to the cupcake shop again, and wander the area around there. (I can’t afford most of the area around it, but it’s fun to window shop. Plus, there’s a tea cafe around there, and I want to go back to it. I went there on a date once, I haven’t been back since, and it would be nice to go again.)

I’m also thinking about going back to my support group. I feel like sometimes I need something that’s not therapy, but I can just…talk and be with people who get it. And I think it’ll help me develop my empathy more, listening to others and not getting irritated by their expression of emotion.

On another note-I’ve lost forty-five pounds! Holy crap, right? I started out at 198 pounds, and now I’m at 153! Now, the top end of my healthy weight range is 141 pounds, and I don’t want to be right at the top. Also, to be a Lifetime Member of Weight Watchers I have to stay within 2 pounds of my goal weight. (Well, two pounds above, I can go below if I wish.) So I’m going for 138, which is fifteen pounds down. I bet I can do it. I mean, the last ten pounds are apparently the hardest, but I’m going to do it.

I’ll probably have to work on my fitness ADD. Apparently I hate workouts that feel like workouts as well- I’ll do high knees and butt kicks while I jog with the dog, but I don’t think I’ve ever gotten through a workout DVD. (I like the Wii Fit, but the Wii’s disk drive can’t read the disk anymore, so I can’t do it. I am crushed.)

(Those of you who want to lose weight and have a dog, take the dog for more walks. It helps and the dog will be happy.)

Tomorrow, however, I’m going to make cupcakes for my ceramics class. It’s an expression for my love of baking and my affection for the members of my class. (Except for irritating Hobble Husband. I call him that because he hurt himself being an idiot and is on crutches, and also he is a pitiful excuse for a husband to his wife. No job, thinks too much of himself, expects her to constantly accommodate him, and has the shallow charisma that appeals to people but conceals his flaws. Gag me. I hate men like that. However, he’s getting a cupcake because it’s not as if I can keep it from him and I like his wife very much.)

I feel less restless now. I think this blog helps me with that feeling. I’m grateful for it. And for you guys who apparently read it, ha ha.

Sincerely yours,

J.J