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Jun. 15th, 2006 | 09:29 am

Tagged Meme
Six weird things you may or may not know about me.

1: I see death wherever I go. It's such a horribly gothy thing to say, but it's true. I used to have to make my mind not imagine cars burning and people in the crosswalks splattered on the road. I had to make it stop because it was the very first thing I saw and it was indistinguishable from reality. Now I not only know it's not real, but it's more phantom like. I've also managed to stop seeing my children in wretched, gorey scenes. I think my brain is messed up.

2: I can't stand the texture of mushrooms. Fungus is disgusting.

3: I was raised by my aunt and uncle from the age of nine, because my mother was crazy and my father was a sick fuck.

4: I have mild dyslexia. It's a reading and writing thing. I used to stutter horribly.

5: I'm somewhat agoraphobic. I used to be very much so. I would hide in my room all of the time. Some days I wouldn't leave the house to go to school. Forget going grocery shopping. I've worked extremely hard over the years to overcome this, but I'll still get panic attacks if I'm in crowded places for too long. When we take the kids to amusement parks, I periodically have to go hide in bathroom stalls and get myself to calm down.

6: I'm very shy. I cover this up with an overcompensation of extroversion. If I have to do it too much, I find it exhausting. It makes me wonder how many extroverts are really introverts.

I tag anyone who cares to take it.

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Oct. 10th, 2005 | 07:01 pm

Reply with your name and:
1) I'll respond with something random about you.
2) I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3) I'll pick a flavor/color of jello to wrestle with you in.
4) I'll try to say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5) I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6) I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7) I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8) If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal. You MUST. It is written.

and a word from It1:


all of that says "hi." the It has declared it so.

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(no subject)

Sep. 9th, 2005 | 09:35 am

it is very strange to have e-mail from neil gaiman in my inbox


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(no subject)

Aug. 21st, 2005 | 12:12 am

Wow. I have slept like shit for the past two weeks. I cannot seem to get to sleep until after midnight, no matter what time it is that I go to bed, and I wake up constantly until about six o'clock when it's so close to seven and I am so exhaustedly awake anyway that I get up out of bed and start my day.

I feel like a fucking zombie moving in slow-motion whilst all of the living people scurry on about me.
And having no energy is Not the way to be around either a five year old or an eight month old, so I am exponentially screwed for having one of each.

For some happy news, though, I fit into my old pants tonight. The ones that I haven't been able to wear since oh... mid-april of last year. This tickled me to no end. They are still a little tight across the front panel, but nothing overly noticeable. I'm just aware of it because I am not used to them rubbing the skin there. They are baggy, and usually hung away from my waist. Everything in due time, though! It'll be at least until January before I get back into my dresses and shirts. I'm hoping that the baby will wean himself at around a year old... otherwise I'll have to figure out how to encourage it along. He loves his solid foods, but he is terribly attached to my nipples.

The man showed me the wonderful side of wearing bondage pants that I'd always managed to miss before. The straps are for more than making cool noises and feeling good when they bump against you.

I had more thoughts on this, but I broke down and took one of TPTB's sleeping pills and I am reasonably certain that it has just kicked in. It suddenly became very difficult to type, and is getting harder to think. So.. um. Better update later!

Wow these things take a while to work, but then they hit like a wall brick.

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misadventures in paint

Jun. 8th, 2005 | 01:11 pm
mood: irritatedirritated

I just.. wasted.. my entire fricking morning. Hours upon hours of it. I skipped my shower, drank a shake for breakfast, and boogied out to my grandma's as soon as I'd brushed my teeth so that I could get to work on her bathroom.

I scrubbed the walls. Laid out plastic. Taped up the trim. Covered the doors. Did it all right. This is a lot of time and prep work. Got my stool, my sponges, my paint trays. Got everything set up.

By this point the baby wakes up. I go get him, make It1 lunch, and bring lunch and the baby back to my grandma's house, get everyone settled. It was convenient timing, really. Shook the paint up like crazy (picture little me dancing around with a gallon of paint and doing pseudo tribal/stomp dances), and then stirred it for ten minutes to make sure it was good to go. Commence sponging.

Don't know if you've ever sponged oil based paint onto oil based paint before. Whatever ass at the paintstore told my aunt to do it that way was a retard. Sponging oils is difficult. When you sponge paint, you're supposed to use one sponge to lay it down and the other to lift and blot. The second sponge is supposed to be wet, but you can't do that with oil. Oil and water don't mix, see. Si it's a lot of work and a pain in the ass.

I do it anyway, because The Powers That Be (I think I shall call my aunt that from here on out. TPTB.) have decreed it must be so. I get a good chunk done so we can see what it looks like, and then call my grandma in to see if she wants her paint lighter or thicker.

The woman practically burst into tears.

"It's mottled."

"Well, yeah.. it's supposed to be mottled. That's spongepainting. It is a base coat with an uneven coat of paint on top that allows the bottom coat to show through so you get a sort of textured effect."

I thought it was looking okay, this nice peach on top of this brilliant orange. Turns out, grandma was very attached to her orange walls. Turns out that she'd never wanted them painted over. Now, when I was discussing the varrious possible outcomes with TPTB, she said to do whatever grandma wanted. It was her bathroom,after all, and it could be painted over later after she'd died.

At this point I am more than a little irritated, and wished that either one of them would have mentioned the fact that the orange was actually a good thing Before I'd started setting up, and certainly Before I'd started painting. Not after.

So I clean it all up, wipe the wall as best as I can, throw out the tape and the sponges and the paint that I've already poured. Roll up the plastic, peel the paint off of the walls, gather It1 and It2, and come home.

Where TPTB sees me, knows that I have been painting, and is surprised that I am already finished. It has been hours, but not hours enough.

I explain that grandma practically burst into tears, and that since she said to do what grandma wanted I'd cleaned it up as best as I could. I knew I'd have to go in and paint over it, but that was for another day.

TPTB gets very upset. She starts yelling at me. Actually yelling. Why did I listen to grandma? Why didn't I come get her? TPTB could have talked her into it. The orange was too bright. It was garish. She needed something to tone it down. It was no good. What was I thinking? And I wiped it up?! Now she couldn't even go see what it looked like! (Please note that I did Ask her to come see it earlier in the process, before I'd even asked grandma)

I explain why I wiped it up, why I cleaned up, why I listened to grandma. Because She said to! Then she starts going off at me some more, and finishes with "I see that I just can't do anything right here!"

Funny, I thought that was my line...

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deviant art is sucking out my soul again

Jun. 6th, 2005 | 03:21 pm

as dark as her work gets, but still worth the look. purty

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shopping (art)

Jun. 4th, 2005 | 02:53 pm

lovely by michael koch

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(no subject)

Jun. 4th, 2005 | 01:04 am

a few mundane observations for my first post

people are nitpicking, backbiting, petty, passive-aggressive assholes

i knew that R was going to stand me up tonight

but i didn't mind it so much. i took her apology this morning with a grain of salt, did not re-add her to my bl, and didn't even notice her absence until midnight

that was mostly due to wonderful alexi/callas torment

my dog is still missing. this has made sleeping difficult, as i sleep very little when distressed. where are you puppy? why has nobody scanned your microchip and phoned me? or read your tags and brought you home? or read the flyers and phoned me?

misty and hmo have been absolute dears about keeping me occupied though

and since the Little It is waking up for foods, i shall leave it at that

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