Pissing, Shitting, Bleeding and Other Things I Do Well in the Desert

The Struggle is Real

Hello All. It's been a while. I graduated Mira Costa College with an Associates in Health Science. Now, I am going to SDSU for my Bachelors in Foods & Nutrition and then ultimately a Masters in "Something As of Yet Undecided". 

I want to be a Registered Dietitian which also requires a year long, costly internship on top of it. I am not certain what direction I want to take with my degree once out of college, but I am struggling with the whole process because of my weight.

I see my tiny, little, bitty peers who are 15-20 years younger and then look in the mirror. My peers are in excellent shape. They play sports, run marathons, lift weights, do yoga etc. Though they drink and eat college foods, they are for the most part good food-choicers.

I see them and have to reconcile myself somewhere in this picture. I also have to fight the dark voices within to manifest the light I want to be in the community. And in the end, I need to be gentler with myself.

I found a blog called "Fat Nutritionist" and it is offering a pretty unique perspective that is actually tailored to me and was unable to fully read it. I think that the knowledge/ideas presented within its electronic pages will prove to be very uncomfortable for me and my current modes of thought, but necessary. We will see.

It talks about being healthy at all sizes. If you are exercising, choosing healthy foods and mentally happy - it doesn't matter how big you are. This conflicts with most of the things I've been told about health for my whole life. I feel like the world is rocky.

But right now, I am trying to write a shopping list of viable food sources for obtaining nutrition for a fair cost and minimal prep. So, a shopping list made out of unicorns and rainbows. Or maybe not. If I make good choices, maybe it doesn't have to be as structured as I have convinced myself. We will see. 

My efforts to avoid the Walking Death with a Fat Ass.

 In May of 2012, I weighed 217lbs. This is the heaviest I've ever been in my life. In. My. Life. I took Summer Semester off academically at the college and just did exercise classes. I lost a whole 5 lbs. from May to July because my eating was out of control.

On July 12th to the 15th, I went to San Diego Comic Con. I lost 2 whole lbs. just walking around for 5 days straight, but everything was excruciatingly painful. It was hard to sit, or stand or walk or live. Something had to give.

On July 21st, at 210 lbs. I started a 14 day modified juice fast. Initially I got the momster on board, though she fell off the wagon. It was Very Interesting. Sometimes, I gulped the juice down because it was like Mana from Heaven. Other times I had to quaff it like a shot, because it was the nastiest tasting swamp muck from the Devil's Ass EVAR. 

My clients loaned me their juicer, the Omega 8003. It was Sweet.

I hit 194 on August 4th; that's a 23 pound weight loss for those of you that care about that sort of thing. That was just so awesome my head exploded. I had tried and tried to lose weight. It seemed like I was doomed to ruin myself. Thank you Deity, thank you Universe, for sending me some relief from my own craziness.

Basically after the juice fast was done, I switched over to EXTREME VEGETARIANISM! No animal products at all - NO, do not say the "v" term (for those of you that are aware of such a term). I hate labels. I also eliminated sugar, gluten and caffeine from my diet. Also, not eating meat products means separating myself even further from the Shambling Hordes. Think on it, you know I did.

I had to reestablish a relationship with vegetables. I thought I didn't like them. I felt salads were a tool of the Skinny Man to oppress me when I went out to eat at restaurants. I felt a lot of resentment and anger at veggies and it wasn't their fault. Now I eat Faux-sagna, and Curried Cauliflower and Chai Spice Pancakes and I love it. LOVE IT. If you want the recipes, I'll post them, but someone's gotta ask.

It is nice. I felt energetic and happy! These feelings are buoyed by consistent exercise – Yoga and Body Conditioning through the college twice a week combined with sporadic gym use and long walks.

At this point I have dropped to 186. This weight has fluctuated lately because I am full of crazy and am back to trying to sabotage myself when I approach success. I can’t let this happen.

Why? Zombies! Of course. It always leads back to them and my complete aversion to becoming one. Some of you may think this ridiculous, but then riddle me this. How is a person who wanders through their life just existing, going back and forth to work, watching t.v. and living in a quiet desperation any different from the Walking Dead? They don’t push themselves or explore their world. They wait for everything to come to them exerting the minimum of effort whether it’s ideas, entertainment or sustenance. I would never want to be this way.

The Bloggess says you should be Furiously Happy in your life. I agree. I’m just gonna add Furiously, Happily Non-Undead. Or something like that. It’s a work in progress. Shut Up.

Said All I Need to Say for Today.

Rambo, a ninja-pirate assassin

This comic is from www.smbc-comics.com/. Go check them out!

I've really been thinking about this ever since I read it. So, I have supposedly lived three of my lives, with the fourth on its way in 3 years. At first, I was like...hey, Life-Waster sitting here. Then, I looked deeper. 

I've been a massage therapist, a corporate drone and now an entrepreneur and college student. What will I be next? I guess I haven't wasted as much time as I had originally felt that I had. Hm.

What do you think? What have you done with your lives? I plan to be Rambo, a ninja-pirate assassin in my next life. Then, maybe a unicorn. I like the idea of stabbing people while I run them down like dogs whilst covered in sparkly glitter.

The End.

It felt like I was going to become the Living Dead!

About...13 minutes ago, I thought I was having a heart attack. My stomach started hurting and then it traveled into my back and it was the most excruciating thing ever. Tried taking a shower and threw up. I was totally panicking. Now I'm fine after laying on tennis balls and putting a heating pad on my chest. Although the ache is coming back into my shoulders as I type this, so...I should probably go to bed.

And an update: For everyone who was concerned about my crazy abdominal issues the other night. There has been no repeat of the symptoms, but since you all have been so adamant, when my check comes in I'll go to the clinic. Although I did talk to an MD friend and he seconded the acid-reflux diagnosis. If that is what that feels like - HOLY CRAP. My empathy for A.R. sufferers is now much higher.

Mmm. Dead Bodies.

Also, it's important to note that in any horror film or action film for that matter, 

the joggers/runners are much less likely to BECOME the dead body. 

Just Sayin'. 

The Zombie Queen is Busy, Damnit!

Good Morning Sweet Readers,

Sorry about the slow updates. I'm obviously not the best nor most prolific blogger that ever lived. I knew that this was gonna be bulky and time consuming to write so I kept thinking I'd do it when I had more time. I woke up at six thirty-ish to write this. (And then didn't end up posting it until months later, but there you are! I actually posted this in October of 2012, but it happened in July of 2012.) 

As for what's happening - I think I'm transitioning. Lots of things that have been okay are now not acceptable. This has put bumps in my road. 

Finances:

These are okay. Business has been steady. Though I would like to get ahead, I haven't yet and I'm pretty sure that this is my own doing. Frivolous spending because it's finally okay for me to buy the little things that I had to bypass previously. So...not sure how to overcome my own sabotage in this area, but at least bills are paid.

Health:

I hurt a lot. It's almost certainly from my massive weight gain. I've gained 45lbs since I've started back to school. (Not in a semester, but the whole period). It's kinda destroying my body. Feet, back, shoulders, hips ache. It's hard to sit for prolonged periods. I wake up in the night from discomfort and with my arms and sometimes my thighs numb. Conversely, I have started going to a yoga class and a body conditioning class on Tuesday and Thursday through the college. But my eating is still out of control and this counteracts any good those classes may do. 

Education:

I am at a still point in my education. In the fall, I will apply to SDSU. Not sure how to go about that but I will be making an appointment with a counselor soon to figure it out. I could have graduated from Mira Costa last Spring with a degree in Health Science but I need 2 other classes that have nothing to do with my degree but that are necessary to enter SDSU's bachelor program. Silliness and hoops. In the meantime, I am taking other classes to finish up my Certificate of Achievement in Administrative Assistance. Since I have at least a year before I can go to SDSU, I may choose to earn another C.o.A. in Business in addition. We'll see. 

Friends:

These are shifting. Old friends are not quite meshing with the person I am becoming and there has been conflict. New friends are entering. I find myself in increasing new situations and I'm not quite comfortable in them, but I suppose it's good to go out of your comfort zone socially. Gun range, Masquerade Balls (now with real Rich People), camping trips - that sort of thing. This equals less time for the people who are only interested in sitting around and/or complaining. They feel neglected, which to some degree - they are. 

Family:
My mom and sister are both unemployed and have been for an extended period. They are being evicted from their home because the landlord wants to redo the interior and rent it out for more money. They are going to move into the smaller unit next door and pay $175 more a month for it. I don't think this is wise, but no one is asking my opinion. I cannot fathom how they've chosen to handle their situation, but again, they are adults and haven't asked for my guidance. 

All of this serves to distract and exhaust me which is why no one sees me or hears from me. It sounds like a downer when I reread it, but actually, I'm enjoying myself despite the challenges.

It's like a rollercoaster where you feel you might be flung out into space to die a horrible death at any moment and then when you disbark, you're giddy with relief and you're own "bravery" at going through this self-induced trial.

Love,

Me

Superwoman Extraordinaire and Zombie Queen

My Modern Fairy Tale

So, I was wasting time when I saw this: And the Prince Lived Happily Ever After.

I got to thinking - a dangerous past time, I know! Those prince and princess stories don't really provide anything  for the people who are single and okay with it. The royal dudes are all supposed to swoop in and rescue the completely helpless princess. OR fight the awful witch.

The above link is for men who don't participate in the stereotypical mating ritual and it's traditional outcome. Good for them and their rock concerts. But where was my Ode to Being Single? So, I gutted it and stole some commentary from this lady and then spent 2 hours making my version. It may not be your version and that's ok.

Now, of course, this is a Fairy Tale. So, I'm working on the fat part (and after reading that first part of this sentence, the self-esteem part). Give me time people. 

I'm drowning in dead cats, sheep brains and bacteria. Seriously.

School has been a soul-sucking morass; I don't really see anyone or talk to anyone. I either go from work to school (10am to 9:35pm on M & W) OR I go from school to work (8am to 7pm, T & Th) and then work again on Friday (10 to 3pm).

At this moment in time it's Bacterio-palooza in Microbiology; we have an Exam next Monday. One high point is that we stain the bacteria (cause otherwise it's clear) which is kinda liking painting with microbes and we also run a lot of different tests, which is kinda like being a mad scientist.  The current unit in Anatomy covers the wonders of the Nervous System so it's sheep brains and dead cats every session. Yum. Sometimes the formaldehyde actually burns your eyes and chokes you it's so concentrated. This also feels like being a mad scientist, but isn't as fun as Micro.

I go to tutoring sessions, study groups and flee my own house to try to cram fuck tons of facts and concepts into my burdened brain about Microbiology and Anatomy. And yet, the "A" result that I'm looking for has not been achieved. Today was especially burdensome. I got a "D" on my Quiz.

I really felt like crying in class. The teacher actually yelled at us for 30 minutes after he graded our quizzes because, as a whole, we did horribly. He said that we were the worst class in 8 years. So, that means I'm in good company surrounded by other failing retards. This fact does not help me feel better. Basically, I have been beating myself up all day.

And the only thing that cheers me up is:

It's not so much that I want to start shooting all the motherfuckers in the face today, as I really don't want to worry about my "D". The Walking Dead means never having to worry about college again. Or retirement. Or the future. It's very Zen, all about living in the moment. 

All said, I still have a "B" in the class overall so, this isn't really a post so much as whining. I apologize. But now you know where I've been and what I've been doing. 

The End.

I'm cheating on my Anatomy Lab Group with other, smarter lab groups.

I think we've just drifted apart, really. I mean, they are a nice, friendly group. But...our values aren't the same, and with that in mind, it just couldn't last between us. You see - I want to pass (with an A), and they don't seem to care if they pass (with an A or at all for that matter).

I chose to join the less-than-motivated, non-grade oriented group on the first day of lab. I didn't know! I didn't know. They didn't have any identifiers indicating their less than stellar scholastic qualities. No one did. So when the teacher was moving everyone around and asked if I'd mind changing seats, I said I didn't cause they looked friendly. Aren't dolts less intelligent people and slackers required BY LAW to wear those little silver bracelets (maybe that's diabetics) for social emergencies (like picking lab groups)? Apparently not. Should they be? I think so.

Yes. I'm that girl. I'm sure you've met me. The one completely obsessed with her grade and who is willing to fillet you alive if you get in the way or if I perceive that you're in the way.

Due to situation-al circumstances, I just can't leave. No really, the teacher said we're stuck together until the end of the semester. I'm going to contact him and see if I can be switched, but I don't think it's possible. What poor matyr exists in our class that would love to be put in the dumb, slacker group?

Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself. Why are they simple-minded? Why are they wastrels? Their sluggish intellect is confirmed by consistently, scarily low test scores. Their official confirmation as malingering sloth-children is proven by the following phrase, "Don't worry. We have plenty of time." I seriously have heard this about...a trabillion-zillion-cotillion times. I may start slapping them with formaldehyde soaked cat if I hear it again.

So I cheated. I'm not sorry. I make no excuses. I wandered over to the smart kid group on review day and studied with them. I went to their study group on the day before the test and my scores improved. Now we are dissecting a cat and the main problem is that I have to stay with them. (Thus the threatened assault with embalmed feline.) *Have you all noticed that I am really into parathesis today? Yeah. Well suck it! Our grades are irrevocably intertwined.

Now, I know I'm an anal-retentive maniac. I take everything (especially cheese - not involved with the lab, but I still take it super serious) very zealously. I know that I am a very intense person and intent in getting my way All. Of. The. Time. So. There. I wanna be good, but the Dark Side is calling and I've heard it has cookies. I've been trying not to spaz all over these chicks, but that time is coming to an end. I'm gearing up for a full frontal freak out and they better watch themselves.

But before that happens, as I mentioned earlier I am writing that email to flee from their malingering slack-assery. I don't think it will work. But at least, I can say I tried everything before I produce three more fresh cadavers for the BIO labs.

Finis

Signs Point To Yes (but Outlook Not So Good)

I have a friend who sends me emails about the increasing speed with which some Grand Future Catastrophe will arrive. So, I know the END IS NIGH.

Meanwhile, just being alive I am injuring myself at an alarming rate. If this keeps up, I will be covered in I.V.'s and casts becoming nothing short of a forced buffet for the undead...provided they could gnaw through the casts. Those assholes would do it though, they're determined.

I went to the gun range the other day and hurt myself shooting a 9mm. No, I didn't shoot myself in the face! Jerks! This wasn't me duking it out with Ah-nold firing machine guns at each other while leaping burning buildings, either. I shot 60 rounds and loaded my own clips and fucked myself up so badly that I had to take off two days of work, get two chiropractic adjustments and four massage plus e-stim + two weeks recovery time (while still working) before I was back to normal functioning levels. A 9 mm is a nothing sort of gun; this horrifies me. Oh noes!

Now, I seem to have injured my foot. How? Completely unknown. It feels like the bones are dislocated or something and it sucks to walk or stand. Thank god I never have to do either of those as a person without a vehicle and who does massage for a living.

But wait! A light shines in the darkness. There is a Cyborg Cat galavanting about on Bionic Feet, so maybe I have a chance...after all they say that they're starting to work towards human prosthesis.

If I could replace my whole body before the Apocalypse, I think I'd be set. No more stupid injuries, the zombies probably wouldn't even register me as a human cause I'd be so full of metallic alloys. I'd just need a mechanic to keep me running in tip top condition.

Excellent. Plan acquired. The end.

I don't react well to surprises.

This equals "not good" - possibly "bad", even. If Zombies were to suddenly arise, I'd be likely to implode. (This is the scale by which I measure the importance of all things, even if you hadn't realized it yet.) Because...well, it really chafes my cheese when things don't go like I expect, especially if I had something else planned. Like, "No we can't have the End of the World today; I have D&D scheduled."

A Real-Life example: I asked my sister to pick up seven Heirloom Tomatoes at the Farmer's Market today. $14. Newsflash: Tomatoes now made out of gold. WHAT THE HAIRY HELL! $14. That's $2 a tomato or as the vendor puts it, $4.99 a pound. In any case, I freaked out all over her just cause I wasn't expecting to pay that much. It took me...a half an hour to calm down, realize I had acted like a douche and apologize to her (via facebook, shhh).

It always amazes me how quickly and intensely angry I can get. Much like the Spanish Inquisition, I never expect it. And strangely, I am more likely to be pissed over some inconsequential thing, than something vital. Usually when some unpleasant, vital thing happens, I end up in shock. It's only later in the retelling that the irritability will surface.

I've tried a variety of things to lessen my negative over-reactions to unexpected, unwanted situations: meditation, eliminating sugar and caffeine, breathing exercises, hypnosis, court-mandated anger management classes. I guess, I have a way to go towards being a mature adult who can handle Catastrophes with Aplomb. (I like Capitalizing Things, deal with it.)

Now, let's multiply this little tomato incident with the unexpectedness of the Apocalypse. It's danger-danger time, people. But how to fix it? Just practice not sucking in social situations, I guess.

Oh well. That's all.

It's been awhile, but don't blame me.

Blame my complete loss of sanity.

Multiple Choice
This last semester (which is approximately five months) I:
a)Gained 27 pounds
b)Broke my keyboard out of frustration
c)Broke my desk out of frustration
d)Got all A's in my college classes
e)Really, really started my own business, in it's own office space and ran a lucrative deal with Groupon which overwhelmed my tiny brain and made me unprecedently successful
f)All of the above

The correct answer is "F". Not for Failure, but for Fabulous, at least this time. Yes, despite the weight gain and destruction of property. Now, I do regret the demise of my keyboard, and the upcoming demise of my desk, but the desk still functions, for the most part. Don't judge me. I mean it. You won't like it when I realize that you're judging me.

2011 - A retrospective.

January The alpha-steroid boss didn't want to pay employee taxes and decided I needed to run my own business and pay him $500 a month for the massage closet. I ripped out my own spine and capitulated to his demands. He arbitrarily changed our payment agreement. I possibly gained an unuseful super power of Sporadic Uncontrollable Invisibility; people kept trying to run me down in the street. Started Spring Semester.

February Alpha-steroid co-worker (now no longer boss), changed "our" pay agreement again. I actively started wondering if I would have to sell my body to survive as steady money was at an all time low. I introduced massage package deals and my clientele slowly increased. Funny how that happened. An ex-friend spontaneously contacted me, I blew him off. It actually rained this month; since I live in California, this is notable.

March My clientele started to become steady. Alpha-steroid co-worker didn't really wanna pay me or share his clients. I started looking for another place to move my business. It all settled down. I stayed wallowing in my unhappy rutt-shaped work situation. Hm. A retrospective occured on the Fishies I loved and lost. NO! Not like that, you perv! All the stress made me tired.

April This entire month was devoured by dinosaurs. Who knows what happened? I probably did homework and played a lot of Facebook games. After checking my sources (aka Facebook status updates), highlights included: A BFF who abandoned me after a supremely scary movie driving me to sleep with the lights on AND a visit to my L.Alien friends. Oh yeah. I volunteered with children to teach them about nutrition and shit. I was tired.

May I started lasering my face off. Fun times! I obtained a personal trainer in exchange for massages. This didn't last. I got a new iPod and acquired CODE: Molerat! I ended the month with a case of the Death Flu, a Panic Attack and a Steampunk Ball. Nice! I was overwhelmed and tired.

June Dreamed about the Man of My Dreams. Met a useless Marine (not the Man of My Dreams) who I boned twice and never talked to again. I suffered an assault by my mom's pee terrorist of a dog, Horace. Praise be to Bertha, I actually practiced a High Holiday for the first time all year. I began a spree of downing lots of Diet Coke to combat my growing tiredness.

July This was the month where I consumed more meat than my body had room for, with extra brisket on the side. Yum! Brisket! For months now, there was actually a over-arching theme of tiredness, but I really started getting tired of everything this month. My BFF and I had a sleepover and I thought about suing my neighbors. These aren't really connected. I just hated the neighbors extra this month due to their new family addition of a vicious attack chihuahua that they made no effort to control. It barked and barked. Broke my iPod and got it fixed. Went to Comic Con, lost my cheese and discovered Axe Cop.

August Official month of scary hell! Examined my divorce in detail and eventually gained some internal peace. Alpha Steroid co-worker royally fucked me over and I decided to move. I cleaned a friends house for four hours, after which, the house was ready to be officially cleaned. Filthy nasty. Got text yelled at by personal trainer and never went back. I stumbled upon an awesome discovery, a Flashdrive Vibrator. Not kidding here. I also asked a friend of mine to mentor me in business. The Fall Semester of College began with Chemistry and three online business courses. In the next five months, I lost my everlovin' mind. I wandered about in an exhausted, spiky haze shoving chihuahuas inside of babies and punching them.

September Big Deal Month. Venturing forth like a rodent from it's burrow, I moved offices after much remodeling and anxiety. Then, I presented my former Alpha Steroid coworker with a $1300 bill for services rendered. Insert smug satisfaction. He paid me part of the money he owed, and then needed a little lawsuit threatening to begin paying me all the rest of the money he owed. Jerkface. Groupon spontaneously decided to run a deal with me after ignoring me for 8 months. This resulted in buku bucks for me and increased the likelihood of an upcoming mental breakdown. Yay! Never Say No to Panda, bitches! I turned old  aged like fine wine this month. I also discovered BCDC right down the street from me; can you say Bacon Waffles? Hell yeah! Also, When god gives you lemons, FIND A NEW GOD! Godberry: King of the Juice. Meanwhile, due to a fuck up, a good chunk of Southern California had a power outage and it started to get a little Lord of the Flies. Told you, this was a Big Deal Month. I chronicled none of this for your amusement; I blame our upcoming Alien Overlords.

October This was the beginning of my foray into Child Slavery. I redefined my values, especially regarding Nuclear Wolves. I lost 6000 ksph, and my mind, once again. From this point on, I couldn't type one word to alert you guys what was occuring in the whirl of my existence for the REST OF THE YEAR. Insert massive sugar intake and start an overwhelming anxiety spiral. Still tired.

November  Homework made me sad. School made me anxious. Food became my Over-riding Overführer. I started downing multiple bags of Pop Rocks with Diet Coke regularly, but my head didn't explode once. I ate more food than was sane or healthy. I became obsessed with Zombies and Ascension. I reached new levels of self-doubt and frailty. Throughout this year, I was obsessed with stock piling for an upcoming disaster of unparelled proportion, but around this time period, I started urging family and neighbors (the ones I like, not the other ones that I would throw towards oncoming zombie hoardes), to join me in planning our survival plans. This didn't happen. I guess I should have planned to plan our plans. No?

December Mental and physical health deteriorated. School and work ratcheted me into a Spiral of Madness. I got sick and couldn't remember important things and started floundering in school. Then the semester finally ended with A's in every subject. Amazing the relief I felt. I was informed that I had the beginnings of Periodontal Disease and had to get my teeth planed and lasered. The last part is okay, because at least, then they matched my face. I threw an Extraordinary Party, in fact, I would say that my 17th Annual Winter Solstice Shindig leveled up this year. A friend visited from Texas and we had a pretty good time and I managed not to murder him. Another friend visited from Italy; this was much more snuggly and happy. After they left, more relief ensued. I attended my family's annual Christmas celebration for my brother and the Annual Gamer Christmas at another friends house and survived. Again amazing amounts of relief to be had. I spent New Year's Eve with my BFF, her family and my roomates. Lovely.

And now, 2012.

I'll tell you more about that later. But the whole point of this lengthy recitation? None. Other than to remind myself of all I have endured and all that I still have to endure. I accomplished eight of about forty or so goals. I did a bunch of stuff that wasn't on my goal list. I don't know if it evens out or if Life can even be "evened out". I survived and that's what counts I guess.

I'm on the edge and have never been happier. My eyes are a bit bulgier and I sometimes overreact like a rabid badger, but overall I am super happy. So yeah.

'Nuf said.

Upcoming Craigslist Ad

MISSED CONNECTION

My Mind and 6,000 KSPH - women4inanimate objects

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Date: 2011-10-30, 1:21PM PDT
Reply to: My Ass!

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Where the fuck did you guys go? We were just together a couple of hours ago and then you both ran off and abandoned me! Nice.

•  it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 123456789

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Seriously, people. Losing my cheese right now. Taking a 10-key class and on the previous assignment I got 14,680 KSPH (keystrokes per hour) with 100.0% accuracy and now I can barely get past 8000 KSPH with mistakes. What the Duck is going on? 

This assigment should take about 30 seconds and I should do 3 trials of it. That's one minute and thirty seconds and we should be able to put this baby to bed. It's been about an hour. Thus you see the source of my cheese-less state. The cheese has been lost along with my mind and 6,000 KSPH. That's a lot of losing and it makes me feel like a loser. I hate that.

It's such a small thing too. This is only one of the four classes I'm taking right now, and to be truthful, the least important. I don't know why it's bothering me so fucking much. BUT IT IS! 

The Resolution? I'm gonna try to do this on a different computer. Maybe it's not me, maybe it's technical issues. (It's probably me.) I'm taking a break and my sister is bringing me a smoothie. Maybe that'll help. 

Fin

UPDATE: It was I. Well, it was! Basically - I finished typing the numbers and then stopped when I just should have started typing from the beginning of the excercise until time ran out. Oh well. My apologies as follows:

I'm sorry keyboard for breaking you. I'm sorry desk for smashing you. I'm sorry me for saying such nasty things to you. I just missed an unstated step. At least, I think it's unstated. I need a hug.

Walking my Talk before the End Cometh...

I realized tonight that it was October 2011. That's like...fourteen months before the End of the World, or so they say. And I know what you're thinking, why am I listening to them again, when did they ever get it right? Better safe than sorry on this one, people.

So, back to my point. I do have one, swear! I've had all these goals for a while now. And if the world is gonna end, I'll need to pick up the pace if I'm gonna make it in time. Because like...for example, can't see the world if it ends, ya know? Learning how to shoot a gun prior to the Apocalypse (and owning at least one) might be a good idea. Not gonna have time to finish one of my books running and hiding from our future Evil Overlords in the sewer when the government hits full-on Big Brother Evolution and comes to enslave us all. Or whatever.

This is called being "proactive", boys and girls. Say it with me - Pro-Act-Ive. Just because you have no conceivable way of predicting the future, doesn't mean you shouldn't be ready. You've gotta use your imagination to imagine the worst and then prep for it! Zombies (of course, my favorite!), Nuclear Wolves (this was new and I had never heard of them before), Imminent Economic Collapse, A rampant world wide plague or a comet crashing into the planet. Get On It People!

I know that it hasn't been my best quality in the past, but I am getting better. I grok this to be true BECAUSE I went through my goals and realized I had accomplished some of them, the harder ones too. I also accomplished some I didn't even know I'd made for myself.

A not so comprehensive list in no particular order:

• Started my own business this year. 
• Allowed myself to be Happy and Positive most of the time despite a possible law suit with my former Alpha Steroid Boss. 
• Organized my books. 
• Framed all my artwork and THEN hung it all up. Who knew this could ever be achieved?
• Made new friends 
• Stepped it up with my future financial security via an I.R.A and Life insurance, like a Bad Ass Mother Fu'ing Adult.

However, as monumental as these accomplishments are, they aren't necessarily gonna rescue me from a predatory alien race, so perhaps it's time for me to make a newer, more survive-y, practical list.

• Start my own bomb shelter
• Allow myself to be Hyper-vigilant and ruthless. 
• Organize my gun collection. 
• Frame all my neighbors and THEN hang them all up. Who knew this could ever be achieved? Especially with the crazy lady and her demon spawn next door. Grumble, grumble, grumble.
• Stockpile food. YUM. I love me some dinner in a can.
• Make friends with bikers. (Never know when you need a quick getaway with some friendly acquaintances who don't give a hoot about little things like...the Law.) <--This is me whispering. Don't tell the authorities, 'kay?
• Step it up on the physical fitness. You can't outrun those 28 Days zombies if you are carrying a spare set of tires. You can't outrun a riot at all, but I guess I shouldn't be so defeatist.
• Enjoy myself now, cause after the world ends, no one will ever enjoy themselves again, except psychopaths...
• WAIT. Become psychopath.

Ah clarity. Thanks you guys. You acted like a sounding board to my insanity. 

Nuff said.

In the Upcoming Apocalypse, we'll need Child Slaves..

So. In preparation, I kidnapped my friend, Jenna's child, Augmo and inducted her into slavery. I think I did it wrong.

The proposition: 
Me: Hey Augmo? Care to come over to my house and slave for me?

Her: How's that work, exactly?

Me: We will rearrange and alphabetize my bookshelves and instead of paying you a wage, I will give you a meal and a movie. Fair? (Little did she know that I have six bookshelves! Bwahaha!)

Her: Sure. I like organizing books. (Or something like that, anyway. I can't be expected to remember everything.)

This sounds flawless right? So, maybe it wasn't slavery per se, since I was offering compensation.

The actual execution: Not as flawless.

I acquired the child on Saturday night. We watched Monsters Inc. then went to sleep. Apparently at some point, I opened my eyes and chirped, "Hello boggle!" and went back to sleep. I do that sort of thing, but can't shouldn't be held responsible.

She woke sometime around dawn thirty and bumbled around, kinda waking me up but being as quiet as a young girl can. I woke at 8:30 and took a shower to start the resurrection process. Then I carted her down the street to BC/DC, a local eatery that serves Bacon Waffles and other haute cuisine. After breaking our fast, we returned to the house with a small stop for shopping shenanigans.

Once re-ensconced within my residence, I printed out my list of hardback books. I have about....5 lists categorizing the different sorts of books that I have: hardback, paperback, art book, comic and occult. Thereupon, I proceeded to take them all off the shelves - by myself- and alphabetize them - by myself. 

Periodically, I would ask her to move books away or bring them back, but for the most part, this was a solo expedition. We put on Howl's Moving Castle and she was entranced. At one point she did dust some of my shelves.

A break was called, as my friend Adriana, was going to meet me at my office to deliver my new swanky sign. She kept postponing, so I started the dishes and Augmo vacuumed. (This turned out to be the culmination of her efforts! And I really appreciated it, as I HATE the vacuum.)

FINALLY Adriana, did confirm that she would be showing up soon. So we vacated my apartment to go meet her. Some yard sale shenanigans interrupted our journey, but eventually we made it there and returned home.

The hardback books shelved and alphabetized, I turned towards the paperbacks and did these completely by myself. Augmo supervised me while she watched Kiki's Delivery Service.

Suddenly, it was time for the movie, Dolphin Tale. Yeah. No. For what it was, a kid's animal love movie, it was okay. For any movie that I'd care to watch, it was a long 112 minutes. Right after, Jenna and her hubby, Joe retrieved the kidlet and she wandered away with some gems, a stuffed animal, and about 6 new books.

All is now quiet on my Western front, once again.

Yep. I re-read this entry. I did it wrong. Stephen, my previous slave was much more slave-y. I'll have to work on my Child Slavery efforts in the future and put my best foot forward.

No more for now.

Unhealed Wounds.

It amazes me that after seven years, I still have unhealed wounds from my divorce. Moreover, I keep picking at them. I just starting looking for my exhusband online. And found his journal and a pic. 

Kinda looks a bit Chester, chester....you know the rest. Yes? No?

Now. I know better than to read the journal of someone who hates me. I know better. So I read it.

From a meme from Feb. 2004: 

5. Your spouse has become nervous wreck since he/she began day trading on the Internet. But he/she made $10K in a month. Do you make him/her stop? 

*snort*. Like my (ex)spouse could actually make any gainful money on her own. 

16. If you could use a voodoo doll to hurt anyone you chose, would you? 

Yep. And there's a certain person in mind, as well.

From a previous entry from Feb. 2004:

The bitch-ex-wife: Goes to court on Monday. Lawyer has all the paperwork. Hopefully, the Lawyer will fuck her world up and make her sorry she ever tried to be a greedy little twit.

There's more. It's pointless to write it all down. Our relationship took a nasty turn in July after I found out he had lied about the purchase of a vehicle. Then he asked for a divorce. Then everyone found out that...I'm greedy. He wasted a lot of time on me, energy and money (REALLY? WHEN?) and the marriage was a failure. Blah, blah, blah. His journal for many months concentrates on all the injustices done to him and how all the people (except for me) who helped him through these injustices and tribulations were awesome. 

He thanks his therapist and states that getting therapy helped him handle his life better. Forgetting to mention that I had demanded he see a shrink because I doubted the marriage could recover if he was left to his own devices to work toward improvement. Prior to therapy, he was an undiagnosed, unmedicated chronic depressive who had already tried to take his own life once (not while we were married). 

I enumerated the ways that it was possible for me to fuck him over (this from anecdotal evidence involving other Marines), and then stressed how I hadn't done any of it and all that did was confirm in his suspicious weasel mind that I had always been out to get him. I hadn't. I could still perform some heinous financial fuckery if I cared to right now...I won't and I never did/will. 

And last, but not least, he always underestimated me/looked down on me. He really thought I was a shiftless idiot basically. That kinda stings from the person who supposedly loves you and is supposed to be on your side. Several of these sort of entries proved to me that HE was the perpetrator of injustice and his accusations were like slaps.

Yet you know what, he's partially right. I did do some injustices to him. I wanted to hurt him so I asked for stuff in the divorce. I didn't want it; I wanted him to hurt as much as he'd hurt me. And I succeeded. I was miserable and I wanted to share. And I succeeded. 

It's really weird too because as I investigate earlier entries prior to the schism, you don't see mention of me at all. I didn't really seem to exist and if you were reading his journal, you wouldn't know he was even married. He mentions a woman name Maureen a lot. This also kinda stings, cause you know, basically I'm his wife and if I was outta sight...I was outta mind, apparently. 

Then, it shifts and I read even earlier entries about how exhausting his therapy sessions were and I feel that I may have wronged him by suggesting that he wasn't trying as hard as I was since he only went to therapy once a month and I was going every week. I'm also tossing around the idea of how difficult I KNOW military life to be and how I may not have given him credit for trying to deal with that while being chronically depressed on meds and with the possibility of an impending divorce. I also see that I didn't keep in contact as much as I could've. 

Strangely, I started this post with a lump in my throat, feeling attacked and defensive. I feel lightened now. Yes, he's still a Big Bag of Douche and no, I don't ever want to see him again BUT now I remember why I married him (just a little bit) and loved him (still do a bit).

I also remember the nastiness I had stored up being so unhappy with a person who couldn't meet my needs and whose needs I was incapable of meeting. I remember my unyeildingness. I remember when I stopped trying to make it work. Once I stopped the marriage was pretty much over because I think he was literally incapable of the emotions needed to maintain a marriage. I don't mean this as a stab at him - just the truth as I see it.

He's a person, not a monster. I'm a person, not a monster. We made mistakes and it ended badly. 

I guess, with this rambly note, I just wanted to say, I'm not that angry girl anymore. And possibly he wasn't as bad as I remember? Or maybe he was, but I was just as bad? Meh. Regardless, I want to move past any similar mistakes in my future relationships, providing that there ever are any...

You may have noticed a bit of laxity upon my part.

It's gonna happen, probably a lot.

Period.

School

I hate feeling stupid. I'm taking a Computer Applications class. I do the tutorial step-by-step via the book and everything goes hunky dory. I try the stupid fucking test - it won't do it. It just WON'T DO IT! I want to kill something or someone right now. I'm not stupid. Why does it look like I am?

I think I dreamed about the Man of my DREAMS

So, yes, it would make sense, since he is the MAN OF MY DREAMS, to, you know, dream about him. But I think I actually did, this morning!

I had a tarot reading awhile back and was told I have love coming into my life - provided that I work on myself for the next three months. The psychic suggested that I ask deity to send me a glimpse in my dreams. And I think I actually dreamed of him... It's kinda cool.

In the dream, his name was Duncan. He was stocky with long pale curly hair. He seemed a bit surly and the psychic said he'd be jolly, so maybe that wasn't him. Thought I'd post this so if I read back and I'm with this guy...I'll remember and my psychic powers will be comfirmed. You see?

That's all for now.

Having a mild panic attack. Wish me luck.

Not sure if its the corset or if I really can't breathe so....yeah.

The whole Steampunk thing tonight. Like I mentioned earlier, I don't feel pretty or feminine lately. Gained weight and everything fits weird.

Also, there are supposed to be rich people there and I'm so obviously not rich. I don't know a lot of people there either. This happens everytime I'm supposed to go out somewhere though. It's why I don't often go to things...but I'm making myself go. Cause I can't stay inside the house forever.

My brain is crazy. I'll try to post pics.

I was flat on my back with the Death Flu and other excuses...

Well, ladies and gents it's true. I got way super sick; it may have, in fact, been the Death Flu. This is still unconfirmed. I woke up two Fridays ago with a little tickle in the back of my throat. I overexerted myself that day and just messed up my Whole Immune System which in turn just spiraled down into a vortex of plague. Example: Sunday - I slept 21 hours with mini breaks to pee, then ingest vittles and fluids. I actually cancelled three massages on Monday...after I did one and felt like a sailor on the rolling deck of some psychotic ship. So what does it all mean? No working out. That's what. Excuse # 1.

The rest of the week I went back to work, but still didn't feel 100% better, so I didn't work out 'til Thursday when my personal trainer showed up. (Thank Bertha for him!) Excuse # 2. He made me do a bunch of core work which kicked my butt (I know! I must be doing it wrong - your abs aren't in your butt!) and reminded me of my imminent devouring should any Undead rise.

So, that's good. It's nice to keep motivated EXCEPT the very next day after doing five massages, I decided not to work out again cause I was tired. Excuse # 3.

Meanwhile, I'm supposed to go to a Ball tonight. I don't really feel pretty or feminine lately. And like Cinderella, I don't really have anything to wear...EXCEPT I might. I've gained a lot of weight so the Brain-splosion I had just before falling asleep last night may not work. At which point, I risk embarrassment. And so I don't wanna go. Potential Excuse # 4.

It could be good though. I could meet the Man of My Dreams who will stand with me when the Apocalypse arrives and give me foot rubs. Can I really pass this opportunity up? I say nay. Wish me luck y'all. I'm gonna go give myself an extreme makeover. Cause a lady should always look her best with Armagedon approaching. That's my advice for today. No excuses. That's all I have to say.


STEAMPUNK

Putting my ass where my mouth is

I'm trying to put my ass where my mouth is. I know, this sounds somewhat off-putting and unhygienic. Usually, people put their "money" where their mouth is to indicate dedication to a certain course of action, but my goal can't be brokered by a piece of cotton and linen. So in the interest of Truth, Justice and all that jazz, I'm investing in a smaller derriere. You see I've kvetched and kvetched about how large (and in charge?) I am. I've made goals, and of course, neglected them. Even the title of this blog involves exercising your way to a better life, hopefully free of zombie bites. This should indicate that exercise and health are important to me and I should be hip deep in flabbergasting fitness. Not so much.

My obstacles: lack of consistent motivation, eating on the run, eating with friends, late night eating and a complete distaste for exerting myself. This means I am a chunkster. And this undoubtedly means that should the ravening hordes rise right now, they'd easily take a chunk out of me.

My solutions? I have obtained a personal trainer to motivate me to do certain exercises, and in fact, push the envelope of my physical fitness. (BTW: Why is it always pushing the envelope? Why can't we push the letter? Or even a package? I like packages; they always have neat stuff especially on the opposite sex, but I digress.) I design nutrient balanced, calorie specific food plans to meet my nutritional and weight loss needs. I pre-package healthy foods so I can grab them on the go. I bring my own food to friend's houses or I try to choose the healthiest option on the menu when eating out and then box up 1/2 to 2/3rds of it at the beginning of the meal. So, I should be a swami of shapely strength, right? Again, not so much.

My biggest obstacle after overcoming the previous obstacles? I think like a fat person. I see myself getting healthy and sabotage it with the "I need a candy bar and some ice cream" thoughts. Solution? A shrink? Who knows? It might really take the apocalypse to get me to exercise regularly and eat healthy. Only time will tell.

But I did get my keister into the gym today. I did push the envelope package (!) and I have the slightly achy muscles to prove it. I did bring pre-portioned healthy food choices and I even ATE them. So far so good. I should go to bed right now to preserve this good day. This is unlikely. I still have to play Gardens of Time on Facebook. This is eating my brains, so at least the zeds will be shit out of luck and cheerfully fucked by the time they get here! SCREW YOU ZOMBIE SCUM. That is all.

Time: It passes.

Finally, I have a mini moment to breathe. So I feel motivated to blog after two-ish months. Work, school, volunteering and decompressing (this is the most important one) have combined to turn me into a spastic drooling monster. But I haven't started eating other people's brains yet, so..that's good.

I remember the beginning of the year, full of hope and good intentions where I decided I'd blog everyday about how zombie apocalypses could help you to be a better person. Yeah. That happened. I made so many goals for 2011. Daily goals, monthly goals, annual goals and so on. I haven't accomplished even one consistently. I still have time, but it boggles my mind how quickly the year is progressing. Much like a rotting horde of undead, you just never realize how quickly things are approaching and then...too late. The ability to avoid this unexpected encroachment is what all those life coaching experts are talking about...planning, being "proactive", taking action!

If you make a plan covering a step by step process to achieve something and then follow through with it, you will not be caught unawares by last minute obstacles. You'll have given yourself enough time for cluster fucks and delays because you're ahead of the game or the cadaverous crowd.

I guess, in a way, this is an ongoing life lesson for me. Because I keep making the same stupid mistake but recreating it in 32 new and exciting flavors. I guess I need refresher courses in following through with my plans and keeping my word...to myself. It's horrible when you continuously disappoint yourself with your own lies.

But it's not as though my life has become a horrible sham like the purported existance of "customer service" from civil servants. I am accomplishing things, just not as many as I thought I would. Most of my goals are habits I'd like to acquire, especially regarding self-care. You would not believe how hard it is for me to floss everyday. Saving my tips - might as well ask me to chop off my own arm. Selling MK is the worst because after all the money I've spent into it you'd think I'd be so motivated. It's really not even very hard to sell. Apparently, I'd rather pay someone to laser off my face (this is actually happening) than to make extra money and validate this financial choice that I'm still paying John back for.

Enough beratement. Things I AM actually accomplishing: A's in all four of my classes, booked nearly two weeks solid and into June for my business, face lasering (wanted this for 6 years), all bills paid so far, nearly paid John off, made first payment to my dad, got a personal trainer (sorta even doing what he's telling me to do), winning the Pulitzer Prize (this is a lie, shh, don't tell.)and so much more.

Fun Fact: Ben & Jerry's just came out with "Late Night Snack" ice cream. I don't know what to make of it. Vanilla bean ice cream with a salty caramel swirl & fudge covered potato chip clusters. Hm. Maybe I should try eating the brains of my fellow man, it's gotta be better for me. No sugar, protein source...hm. That is all.

So Fred is Dead, Long live Fred. The summary of my watery murders.

The first fishy I ever had, I won at a rinky dink carnival inside my grocery store's parking lot some time in '92 or '93. I named him Fred at a recently acquired friend's suggestion. Apparently the name makes fish live longer. I don't know about this...but...


I do know that that little guy lived through a crap ton in the brief time that he lived with me. Sitting on a ledge, talking with the above mentioned friend just after I'd won him, she accidentally kicked the cup he was in to the ground. It broke. He lay amongst the shattered plastic gasping in the ever shrinking pool of water. I leapt up and desperately ran across the parking lot to the Taco Bell clutching the broken plastic cup and ever diminishing water with fish in hands. Slapping my fish in his shattered cup down upon their counter and splashing water all over the place; I demanded a cup of water from the ESL cashier. He handed me a glass of ice water. Fred's little body went rigid in the cold. I had trouble conveying that I wanted lukewarm water, but finally I got it across.

After another bout of moist mess making, I got my newly acquired fish into the lukewarm cup. At first, he floated there rigidly. Then he started swimming normally with a nonchalance that surprised me. He seemed to be saying, “What? This is how I roll. I won't let near death by falling, icy cold immersion or ammonia keep me down." Fred survived the weekend despite my ignorant ill treatment and a lack of food and oxygen. I kept him in that Taco Bell cup with tap water and carried him around for three days because I 1) had no tank for him and 2) didn’t go straight home. Once I even left him in a car with the windows up and it was full summer. Finally, he died a week later in a Goldfish bowl with untreated water and no aerator. My ignorance resulted in his death, but this seems to be a theme with fish and me. R.I.P. Fred. I'm sorry.

Many years later, I won a second Goldfish at the Del Mar fair, probably in '99. He was named Fred Squared in honor of the first long lived Fred fishy. He lived for many years in a 2 gallon tank quite happily. I did some research and obtained the basic skills to not murder him within a week. Then he started swimming erratically. He began slamming himself from the floor of the tank to the ceiling. I thought it might be because his tank was now too small for him so a friend of me purchased a...terrarium for my birthday sometime in 2004. It worked for awhile. It was five gallons and he stopped swimming erratically, but he looked lost in all that water.


FRED SQUARED

So just before a birthday dinner with James and another friend, Alex, I received a Calico Fantail Goldfish, also in 2004. We had been window shopping while waiting for our table. The fishy ended up spending a couple of hours in a plastic bag in the car while we ate. We weren't sure if he'd make it so the boys kept suggesting names like Drop Dead Fred and Nearly Dead Fred. I named him Fred Zombie because he had a black patch over one eye that looked like a blown pupil.

He joined the 5 gallon tank with Fred Squared. This is when I discovered that Goldfish are kinda xenophobic. Not only do they hate other fish species, but they don't even like different subspecies of other Goldfishes. Fred Squared was a Comet Goldfish; nice gold color, streamlined body, approx. 4 inches. Fred Zombie was, as I mentioned, a Calico Fantail, which means he looked like those Goldfish in Disney's Fantasia; he was also on 2 inches or so. As Fred Squared was bigger than Fred Zombie, it became readily apparent that he could easily bully him without repercussions; what a nasty little fucker he was. He would slap Fred Zombie aside and steal his food. So, I decided there needed to be more fish to distract him.

FRED ZOMBIE

I initially purchased 6 (although it turned out to be 5, cause 1 died right away) Whitecloud Mountain Minnows to be Goldfish Companions on the premise that they were the only fish that got along with Goldfish. But since they were so small, I put them in a separate tank from the Goldfish because I thought that their existence would be reduced to that of a Mobile Biscuit until they grew bigger. I dubbed them the Fred Whitecloud Mountain Minnow Collective as they all looked the same and showed no particularly disguising personality characteristics.

Then the terrarium gave way. Early in the morning, upon waking to go to work, I discovered a watery wonderland in my living room and the fish were warily swimming in their severed depleted leaking tank. I had to purchase another tank last minute. So the fish went from 5 gallons to 15. They looked lost in the wilderness.

Well, time passed and the minnows never really got that big, but I figured either they would serve their intended purpose as Goldfish Companions or I was gonna have to sell them back to the fish store. So, I amalgamated the tanks. Well, at first Fred Squared (official bully of fish everywhere) and Fred Zombie did, indeed, try to transform the Whitecloud Mountain Minnows into Mobile Biscuits at a underwater tea party, but the Fred Minnows weren't having any. They swam like the dickens. So, all was happy on that fluid front for many years.


FRED WHITECLOUD MOUNTAIN MINNOW - THE COLLECTIVE
See, this is what they looked like...only more boring.

Later, I received a fishy named Fredpoleon from a friend would had to move and couldn’t take him with. He was a golden fantail, very small and very pretty. He was not long for this earth. He got swimbladder when I went away to Thailand. I suspect my sister overfed him. He would often float/swim sideways, but seemed happy and to suffer no lasting ill effects from it.


FREDPOLEON

In the interim, I saved the life of a Beta fish. I removed him from the Pestilential Pit of Petco and set him up in the old fish tank. He's hid at the bottom, but eventually came out of his fishy shock to see the new Posh Palace of Fishdom that he was now ensconced in. At a client's urging, and some research I found out that "Fred" meant "peace" (according to this baby name site) and "Xian" means "peace or peaceful" in Chinese, (I think). I had originally named my fishy "Xian-Fred" but since they mean the same thing, I have now shortened it to "Xian". But really, his name is still "Fred" just, you know, in a different language. Around Feb. 21st 2007 Xian died. No ick, no fin rot, no funny swimming. Just upside down on the bottom of the tank. R.I.P. Xian. Why the hell did you die?!

Around Mar. 20th 2008, just before I changed residences, Fred Squared got sick and just laid listlessly at the bottom of the tank. I went to the store and put him in the medical tank with some salt as was recommended. He died anyway. It may well have been my fault for overfeeding him at first and then for immediately changing his environment (albeit in an effort to save him) and throwing him into shock from which he couldn't recover. I mourned him for months with black organza ribbon hung from my lamp. R.I.P. Fred Squared. I mourn you still. You were a nasty fucker, but secretly I think I liked that best.

Then around June 27th 2008, right after I moved, Fredpoleon died and I never knew why. HE WAS FINE AND THEN HE WAS DEAD! and I NEVER KNEW WHY! Shock, angst, who knows? R.I.P. Fredpoleon. You were never really "my" fish since you belonged to someone else first, but no fish deserves to go that way.

A couple of days later, Fred Zombie collapsed (if you can apply that verb) on his side on the bottom of the tank and never got better. I couldn't stand to see him that way, so I consulted the internet and found a way to euthanize him using clove oil and vodka. Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to properly do it and his end was heart breaking and violent - which was the last thing I wanted. I called my friend Anthony in hysterical tears and made him finish the job as I had to leave for work. That day was horrible. R.I.P. Fred Zombie. You broke my heart.

I didn't even want the Whitecloud Mountain Minnows any more as I had only gotten them as companions for the Goldfish. But I kept them and for several years they lingered on past any affection I could ever feel for them. One got pregnant and then died from complications. Others randomly floated to the top of the tank after showing no signs of illness and the rest of the fish seemed fine. R.I.P. Collective. I'm not really sorry you're gone. Hopefully, in the next life you'll be more interesting fishes.

Finally, there was just one fishy left. I dubbed him Fred Whitecloud Mountain Minnow – The Survivor. A couple of days ago, he started swimming crazily around the tank, right after the last water change. I found him floating upside down this morning, gasping and barely alive. This time I took the time to do it right and used the clove oil to put him down. He peacefully (for the most part) went to the fishy Elysium this morning around 11. R.I.P. Fred Whitecloud Mountain Minnow – The Survivor. No more fish for me.

I am reconsidering plants at this point. Maybe I’m just not up to taking care of anything living. Heck, lately, I feel ill suited to taking care of myself. This is a long entry, so that’s all I’m going to say.

WARNING: This post may be ramble-y.

"...
Here we go again
We're sick like animals
We play pretend
You're just a cannibal

And I'm afraid I wont get out alive
No I won't sleep tonight

CHORUS:
Oh, oh
I want some more
Oh, oh
What are you waitin' for?
Take a bite of my heart tonight
Oh oh
I want some more
Oh oh
What are you waitin' for?
What are you waitin' for?
Say goodbye to my heart tonight!"

I am full of Diet Coke and spazzing out right now. The above song makes me wanna take a walk even though I got my daily exercise at the gym today. Might be a good idea to take said walk since I splurged on a Veggie Burrito from Senor Panchos. I love that place; the hole-in-the-wall Mexican place with the dancing Jalapeno Pepper in a Sombrero. Classy!

After the gym and some shopping, I spent most of the day brainstorming with Tanna about different marketing techniques for my massage business. I think about how to make money and market and advertise it all the time. I actually remarked to her that if I spent as much time thinking about how to get laid that I'd so totally be getting laid all the time. As it is, it's been six years.

Lately, I have been functioning on three levels: Fear or Frustration and then Faith. I have to have Faith that somehow I can make it on my own working in the above mentioned business. I had to borrow $520 this month from John and Ray to make rent (home) and insurance (for massage). I don't know how I'll pay them back, really don't. However, I have some intuitions about how I might accomplish this. And then I have to make the rest of my bills and rent (for home and work) for next month.

But I do think that there will be a light at the end of this tunnel. If I can just make it through this month, I'm supposed to be getting SOME sort of money for financial aid. I hope it comes soon, but it's not scheduled til April. Jeezy Chreezy. Also, I have two clients who buy massage packages from me and they've both nearly completed their previously bought packages and will hopefully buy another ten pack each from me. At which point, many problems will be solved. Lord and Lady bless and keep me. I need to call them. I also need to call some other clients who I haven't seen in awhile to come in. I need to get email addresses to do email bursts to help advertise. I need people to Yelp me. I need. I need. I need to get a grip.

What will be will be. No point in worrying about the future. It will come soon enough. Just like the undead, it's inevitable. Nuff said.

It's raining.

I didn't bring an umbrella to work today. I think you can see where this is going. One tends to get wet when one has no umbrella and the sky unzips and dumps liquid devastation upon your cranium. FYI. Just so you know.

In my defense, because I certainly need one, it was sunny and blue when I left for work this morning. It only got rainy just before I left work. Cause that's life.

The rain makes me long for a man. I just spent 30 minutes checking out Craigslist. Every ad on Craigslist makes me feel fat. Now I am tired. This entry isn't interesting, but I thought I'd type something.

It's kinda like I'm making word vomit at you. Directless and off-putting. So. I'll stop.

The end.

I don' wanna and you can't make me

I'm supposed to be getting ready for work. Thank god there are no forks around cause, right now, I'd rather stick one of those in my eyes than do that. Ah Well. I'm forkless. Guess the only other option is to be a responsible adult. BAH!

That's all for now.

Why don't they ever give you the option of a wheel barrow?

So, today was a bit of chunky day. Woke up and despite all my efforts I ran late and missed the Sprinter (the local train inland) on the way to today's Mary Kay obligation making both myself and Adriana, my ride who I was meeting in the middle, late. We went to a Mary Kay "Foundation Bootcamp" to have the shades of our foundation redetermined for the new Liquid Foundation that MK just released. It was jury by consensus and apparently the consensus is that I am FUCKING WHITE! I'm an Ivory 3 (translate FUCKING WHITE!). There's only 2 other Ivories below me. Winter what have you done?! I used to be a delightful beige color, now I'm auditioning for the role of Casper the Friendly Ghost.

Then it was off to John's house to play Dresden Files for 6 hours; Chuck, John, Bridget and myself with Richard as our GM. Last session was painful as Chuck and Bridget don't get along and got in a nasty fight. This session was much less "crunchy" as Bridget put it. Unfortunately, I will admit that lack of real food and ingestion of chocolate covered heart sugar cookies from the Foundation Bootcamp put me in a combative mood and I accused Richard of being "draconian". I owe him an apology later.

Afterwards, we went to Benihana's. Chuck transformed into a bit of a whiny bitch about it since he feels that Benihana is on par with some sacred celebratory event and didn't want it sullied with our mere after game presence. And he protested weakly, though not enough to dissuade John's bulldozer-y-ness and was kinda resentful until he finally got over himself. I chose to have sushi and for once in my life that actually worked out to be the "cheap date" option. The food was delicious and John was gentlemen enough to let me taste a bit of everything he got! Num Nums! The show from our server, Keoni, was amusing and I had a good time. I did not have $30 of good time (which is what it cost everyone else) and doubt that I will ever suggest going back there, but I didn't have to pay all that so...yay! I owe John about $14 for the sushi. All in all though, I am so full. Why don't they ever give you the option of a wheel barrow? I'm kinda sleepy now. Juva Juva. That's all for now.

I am a Whirl of Wind

So, I have started school. Boy, nothing like going to school to make you realize just how much you don't know that you thought you did. Color me humbled. What color would humble be anyway, maybe a sort of pale yellow or something? Returning to the subject, I am taking three online classes and one in school class. I thought the online classes would be a piece of cake because I was sure I knew everything there was to know re: administrative busywork. I also thought that though I don't know everything about nutrition, I'd still have a handle on it and the class would be easy peasy. I was actually disappointed that I didn't get into the super hard classes of Biology 210: Human Anatomy and Chemistry 100: Chemistry (or some shit, forgot the name). I had considered taking two more online classes cause I wanted to be challenged. WHAT AN IDIOT I AM! By the way, I'm now convinced I don't know SHIT about office-y stuff and am highly surprised they let me near an office, you know, retroactively.

The work just piles up. Format this, type that memo, and use critical thinking. Critical thinking? What place does that have in any office? Really!? You don't say? The workplace is changing and on top of mindless work they also want you to do thinking work too? Crazy. And reading, so much reading to do. But secretly, or maybe not so secretly, since I'm telling you guys, I'm loving the work and the learning stuff. I've learned more crap since Jan. 24th, than I have in over a year probably.

Meanwhile, I am jumping through hoops trying to figure out this whole marketing thing for work to get people to allow me to rub their butts. And pay me. I don't rub a butt for free unless I like you - A LOT! I've made a website and a Facebook page. I've placed Facebook ads, well one anyway. I've dropped posters off at the college. I'm making a spiffy poster through VistaPrint and considering a couple of banners. Drew up some fancy smancy brochures. I am thinking every day about marketing and I don't really know what I'm doing, but I kinda like it. Like I might want to do it for a living as a side job sort of liking it.

I've also revamped the massage room today. I like typing fragments, deal with it! My room is really teeny tiny; I refer to it as my Massage Closet for a reason. Fitting a whole warm stone station in it without overwhelming the room or burning myself is a tall order. *Play Mission Impossible Theme Song now.* Mission Fulfilled. I partially disassembled one shelf and jury-rigged it into the W.S. station, while purchasing and then assembling another one in the hour just before the client was due to arrive and receive her W.S. massage. And now I have a tri-level, stable, space efficient and pretty W.S. station with a space for a drink station below! And I can do a totally functioning Warm Stone Massage. It's neat!

Lastly, the man (who wasn't my ex-husband) that I mentioned on Jan. 16th, in the dream about my ex-husband, sent me a Facebook request. Random that he'd get in contact after so long. I asked why. His reply? That it had been a hard year with lots of passings and that we used to be friends and he remembered that friendships are important. No shit. Really.

I am kinda underwhelmed by his logic since it's taken about...5 years for him to come to this conclusion. This particular guy got mad at me for hinting via Livejournal that his girlfriend and I should get to know each other better before he, his girlfriend and I got to know each other A LOT better. He hadn't mentioned that this news was to be on the D.L. Additionally, I didn't leave an entry titled "So before I lick her pussy...". People who read his journal asked questions because I had, in fact, left it ambiguous. He was embarrassed because she was mad and embarrassed. He stopped talking to me and told me that it would last until he wasn't mad anymore. I un-friended him on Myspace and Facebook after waiting about a year. I know. It takes a long time for me to learn a lesson.

My reasoning: I didn't really do anything wrong and I don't want to be friends with someone much less commit sexual acts with them if they would be embarrassed by it becoming public knowledge that they were with me. I am not embarrassed by the actions I take and if I would be, I generally reconsider taking them. Oh yeah. This is what I said. I'm the last comment by delikatcreature

I will say this though, being in motion = no anxiety. I just put my foot down and take the next step in front of me. It's like running from the undead; I am just doing so many things as fast as I can that I have no time to be anxious. Just adrenaline and movement. That's me. That's all I have to say for now.

Anxiety and my ex-husband.

I woke up super late today and anxious. I had stayed up really late last night at a friend's house. It was dinner and a movie night. Met some cool new people. Had a good time. I finally lay my head down to rest at 4am. I didn't even get up til 11:41am this morning and I felt awkward.

For whatever reason I awoke from dreams of my ex-husband this morning. There was actually a period after the divorce where I had forgotten that I'd been married, so when I say that I don't think about that guy often, I mean it. I wish him well, mostly out of karmic self-defense, even though he hates me but also because in retrospect, he taught me a LOT of lessons.

In the dream, I had rented an airplane. I had flown somewhere and had a whole dream sequence that is now forgotten. But I was repacking the plane and we were getting ready for take-off when he clambers inside. And I LET him. Now, here's the thing, I don't wish him wrong, but he's not a pleasant person to hang out with when you are...ME. So, I don't know why I let him in the plane.

We flew home and it was like he'd had a reboot. He was friendly, charming even. He found out about my life and somehow it impressed him, unlike the life I'd been living when I was the woman I'd been being when we'd been together.

I remember bemoaning the state of the planes carpets as a lost cause. Then our plane landed and poltergeists wrecked this room that somehow spontaneously appeared inside the plane. There were these French doors (now complete with broken glass), two refrigerators and a bed in the room and that was naturally a perfect arrangement. I was frantic to clean up the mess in order to get back my apparently substantial deposit.

So here I am frantically cleaning and he's talking to me. I'm sweeping up all this debris and glass and he's not helping, but his chatter helps keep me focused and calm. He starts making comments that lead me to think he might want to get back together. Once he puts on the pair of high heels that my friend David has left behind, I know he's also trying to get sexy with me. By the way, this is a dream, so there doesn't have to be a reason that I thought a man wombling about in high heels is SEX-ay. It just was. And then I was naked on the bed.

And then my friends who have avoided the area of the disaster start showing up and all I can do is ineffectively curl up on my back to try to prevent them from seeing all my Business. They're laughing because they see my pathetic attempts to hide my nakedness and him in the high heels and they know what's going on. One the more persistent "friends" was a guy I used to fuck around with, but there was a misunderstanding re: some journal entry that upset his girlfriend. He stopped speaking with me then and has never contacted me again.

So to sum up: I was picking up the pieces with my ex. When I'm most vulnerable this other guy showed up, and all effects to protect myself were ineffective. Maybe my mind is trying to tell me that it's time to resolve some stuff that I had given up as a lost cause. Or maybe my psyche was telling me to avoid drinking Sugarfree NOS and eating chicken meatballs (no matter how delicious) before sleep. Only time will tell. That's all for now.

If you unexpectedly won a $10,000, how would you spend it?

Lately, I have been freaking out a bit financially. As you might have read in earlier posts, I am embarking towards Big Girl Massage Therapy and that means I'm starting my own business. It's proving frightening. I'm not liking it. I might not succeed. But I'm doing it anyway.

I sit and think about how to get money a lot. Many people do, I guess. My favorite scenario is the one where my guardian angel kinda wakes up from her nap and sees me fretting and with a uninterested flick of her hand, I've won the lotto. The she goes back to sleep. This is MY guardian angel, so, you know, she's got mono.

Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. But then again, it isn't. I can't even pay back all the money I owe with that; I'd come close, but that only counts with hand grenades and horse shoes as they say. It would take a crap ton of worry off my shoulders though. Gosh. To not owe any money is like Shangri-moola.

But then, would I actually do that? I mean, would I really do the responsible thing and pay everything back with the dinero or would I do something else...like I normally do. I'm vaguely self-sustaining, semi-responsible adult, but I'm also super duper impulsive and I like shiny things. I need new clothes.I want to take a trip. What about savings? What about the IRS those guys will want some of that metaphorical $10,000. They always do. I also want to try some of that fancy smancy hair goo and get a pedicure. I need a massage desperately. Then family, won't they want some?

SO MANY OPTIONS. I am now paralyzed. What I'll have to do to avoid paralyzation (The little word checker thingie is saying I spelled that wrong, but dictionary.com says I spelled it right. So SCREW YOU word checker thingie!) is to just take the first action immediately, i.e. paying all I owe right away, and then just allow my low self-esteem to kick in and berate myself later for lost opportunities.

NO WAIT! I won't do any of that! What I'll do instead is enroll in a super duper hard core training school where they show you how to survive in the wilderness, shoot firearms, perform martial arts and swing axes around with slaughter-y glee! After all, 2012 is coming soon and then the Apocalypse will start and there won't be anyone coming around from my credit card companies or the IRS after that! Screw paying bills, they won't even exist after the Undead rise, but I will cause I'll be a badass! Extra exclamation points cause I feel like it! !!!!!!! Hell yeah. This is what I mean by the End of the World being kinda easier than real life sometimes. That's all for now.

Showers are decadent

It's cold here. I can see that smirk forming. I live in Southern California and I think it's cold. Pwoor Baby! Just shut your cakeholes, you nay sayers. We can't afford heat and though California is definitely not the Antarctic Circle, lately it's been fucking frigid okay. When my lumberjack roommate with plenty of padding says it's cold - the temperature has hit new lows. Now I apparently am part lizard, always looking for my warm flat rock, and I hate the least bit of chill in my environment. What does this have to do with showering?

I just took the most awesome shower, EVAR. Every part of me has thawed and then warmed. I feel content and certain about the benevolence of creation right now. I can hear that little jingle about not being "a waterhog" because my State has been in a drought for years and I just don't care. I know that heating the water for the shower costs money too. Don't give a flying fudge-packer! Water beating down, running through my hair, relaxing all my muscles = Nirvana.

This doesn't look good for my future though. I'm such a pussy that if my feet get cold I have trouble sleeping. If the End comes and the dead start walking I am gonna be at such a disadvantage when the power goes out and I have to head north cause that's where the dead will be thinner (IMHO.) How will I be able to stomach wandering around an Urban to Rural wilderness in freezing temperatures? No idea. So I better glory in my Decadent American Deluge of heated water. Who knows how long it'll last. That's all for now.

I am fucking tired.

I've been working on a lot lately. I finally made the plunge into Big Girl Massage Therapy. My state license finally fucking arrived after an eight month saga and a tersely worded letter to the Attorney General on my part. I have insurance. I've spent about five Hundred dollars to turn what I call the "Massage Closet" into a nice cozy little room. Then the bottom dropped out and all the insurance patients ran out of insurance until the New Year and Dr. Lame my alpha steroid boss announced that since I was such a good therapist I could charge whatever I wanted and keep all the money and pay him $500 a month rent for that hole. I accepted of course. I mentioned in an earlier entry that I have no spine when it comes to that man.

ANYWAY, I took the plunge created a website, got a domain name and created a facebook page and I'm winging it with my nipples to the wind. Scares the crap out of me.

In other Big Girl News, I've decided to go back to college to finish my Associates in Science that I've been trying to finish for the last 15 years. Yeah. That's right. 15. Years. Not Finished Yet. That's me. I also decided to get a Certificate in Administrative Assistance, because that might be more likely to get me hired somewhere.

I also am starting the Flat Belly Diet again. I'm cutting out sugar, caffiene, fake sugar and Frankenfoods in general. And I'm going to the gym five times a week. I made a goal to write SOMETHING everyday and this entry counts. So I've got a crap ton on my plate right now. And what does it mean?

This means I'm tired. But right now, despite my tiredness, I feel a great sense of accomplishment. That's all I have to say.

This is harder than it looks.

I could do the literary version of drooling at you and just fill this thing with crap. I could compose literary vomitus via my shopping lists, to do lists and other minutiae. I would have to rename the blog: Things I've accomplished, Stuff I want to accomplish and Reasons why I didn't accomplish said Stuff. It's not as catchy, I feel, and certainly more boring.

But it's kinda hard to come up with riveting subjects and then attach even more riveting words to them. Harder than I thought it would be. This may be why I never live up to my goal to write every day, and we are not even going to look at the failure my three unfinished books are racking up. At this point, I've got enough points at not following through with written projects that I could like, redeem it, for a Maserati or something at the Prize Counter for Universal Procrastinators. (This is similar to the Prize Counter at Chucky Cheese's, but no one ever goes there cause they procrastinate about it, see? That's why they have all those Maseratis lying about the place.)

Anyway, the worst thing about it? I come up with AMAZING ideas all the time about things I want to share with the world to help spread enlightenment everywhere, but it's never near a computer and then when I am near a computer all the good ideas have fled my brain like those dudes in "The Great Escape." Never seen it, but I hear it's about an escape. Moving along.

And sometimes when actually do remember it and I am actually near a computer when I try to type it out to you guys (and by you guys, I, of course, mean Jenna, cause nobody reads this thing) it comes out all flumpy (which is a word I just made up). Like the whole entry about the acquiring of my Sporadic, Uncontrollable Invisibility Power. Should have been WAY funnier, cause right after I had almost been run over the first time, I was composing how I'd tell the story in my head and started laughing like a block away. But when I typed it out - not close to funny.

The point? I don't think I really had one. Maybe self-defense? For the future, when someone other than Jenna might conceive of reading this thing, I can fall back on "This is harder than it looks," and feel all defended. Also, I will make myself feel better by telling myself that at least the Ambulatory Deceased haven't devoured my brain meats yet, so I can make better blogs in the future, you know, to atone. That's it for now.