Monthly Archives: December 2013

Random Thoughts, IV

Who doesn’t love roman numerals?  Ok, lots of people.  I do.  Reminds me of my Latin class, back in 7th grade.  Loved that class.  Loved Latin.  “Semper ubi sub ubi.”  =P  I remember we once had to make a poster, using Latin.  Mine read, in big 3-d block letters that looked like stone – “Veni, vidi, id me vicit.”  Beneath “vicit” was a tiny squashed figure with blood running out.  It means “I came, I saw, it conquered me.”  =P


I’m feeling kinda angst-y, and trying not to.  Kinda hard to get out of the darker parts of my head…


I got curtains the other day for the living room.  They’re a really nice, chocolatey brown.  And now I can watch TV during the day without blinding glare!  That’s something I’m happy about.  =P  And, got a new lamp, also for the living room.  It’s square, base and shade.  The shade is kinda like burlap.  It’s perfect.


My drapes in my room at the old house were burlap.  With a flounce (?) made of the bed-skirt that came with my bedspread.  Black, with white and grey dragons and Chinese ideograms that I never understood.  I loved my bedroom at the old house.  Painted the walls a buttery yellow, with one wall red.  Trim in a matte black.  Me and my friend Dylan built this amazing captain’s bed frame.  Like, about 3 feet tall, 6 drawers per side.  I painted “endurance,” “love,” and “friendship” in Japanese characters across the drawers.  I had to leave it behind, but took the drawer faces.


I need to make a batch of tortillas.  I’ve been feeling especially lazy lately because I’ve been buying them.  It’s just, such a chore.  Mixing and kneading the masa (dough) so it’s just ever so slightly sticky.  Rolling and forming the tistales.  Rolling them all out, at least 2 dozen.  And then cooking them so they’re still soft, but with nice brown bubbles.  It’s totally gratifying, but it’s such a pain in the ass.  My grandma used to make several dozen, every single day!  So it makes me feel lazy that I can’t do that every couple weeks…


I’ve been having some crazy dreams lately.  And some really lovely dreams that kinda make me hurt when I wake up and realize they weren’t true.  Do many people believe that dreams mean something, that we can learn something from them that can help us in our lives?  I talked with someone about a few, and looked stuff up on a “dream definitions” site.  Dreaming about roaches means I feel inadequate.  A broken pipe means I feel unsure and out of control.  What does it mean when I dream about someone who’s completely unavailable, who’s telling me – in the dream – that we’ll be together “soon”?


I did my hair mask tonight.  The banana/honey/olive oil.  Sucky thing is, no matter how well I mash the banana, I always wind up with little clumps.  Thought about throwing a couple ripe bananas in the blender for a while, seeing if I can puree them enough that they wash out clean.  But for now, I know I’ll have to do an extra good job of cleaning the shower, keeping an eye out for little spots of banana on the walls and curtain…


I hate winter, if just for the static.  What is it about winter that makes everything super dry and static charged?  And what is it about me that draws static like a magnet?  All winter, I get shocked daily.  My hair and clothes crackle with it.  I’m afraid to touch light-switches and car doors.  I’ve even gotten shocked by water!  I’ll go to do dishes or wash my hands, and get a spark off the water!


Blog, blog blog blog, BLOG

Funny title, not so funny content.  Sorry for being misleading.


God, I’m just feeling horrid tonight.  Stupid, selfish, anxious, heart-broken, and so ironically, entirely alone!  lol  It makes me laugh, cuz I’m just such an ass, such an assHOLE.  Apparently I needed more ammo in the hating-myself campaign…


Ugh, blah.  I need a reboot.  A re-do, a mulligan, a Mario death – Hey, I’ve got another life!  …


I kinda want to be alone.  Like, completely.  An island in the middle of nowhere, on a planet of endless ocean.  If there’s no one around, there’s no one to hurt you, and no one to hurt.  No one to give you love, friendship.  Nothing to lose.


Fuck.  And if I don’t stop crying, right fucking now, I will wind up with swollen eyes tomorrow and then I’ll REALLY hate myself for crying.  lol


I so wish I could blame this emotional outburst on PMS…


On the bright side, I got my new lamp, and it’s perfect.  The drapes should be here on Tuesday, maybe Wednesday, and it’ll be awesome to watch TV without the glare, and I’m hoping they cut down on the drafts.  And yes, I’m housewifey.  I cook, I clean, I bake, I knit.  I’m a care-giver of sorts.  Because that’s all I have to offer!  I’m scared shitless of the outside world.  I’m weak, and pathetic, and maybe 100 years ago, I could just marry, and it’d be ok for me to stay at home and be housewifey.  But I don’t even want kids!  And what’s a housewife without kids……


God grant me a vacuum, a stove, an oven and a fucking martini…  A bucket of martinis…


If I post this, I’ll regret it like hell in the morning.  But then, why shouldn’t I post it?  Who does it hurt?  Who…  Fuck…


Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.  …  Here, there be monsters.


I am my own nightmare.  🙂


I’m being overly dramatic…  I’m sorry.  It’s fine.  I’m fine.  It’s just one night.

Feeling Bloggy

When I was 12, my dad died.  Cancer.  Lymphocytic leukemia?  I think.  He was in the hospital for like, 4 months.  Me, my mom, my brother were there every day after school, except on weekends, when we’d stay at a friend’s or with family.  Weekends with my Uncle Danny were good.  He’d let me watch stuff like “Piranha” and “Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things.”


I had my only surprise birthday party ever at the hospital.


There’s a bunch of family BS I won’t go into.  Long story.


Anyway, my dad really was my best friend growing up.  So often, it was just the two of us.  We just had the same vibe, y’know?  People have told me how alike we are in terms of temperament, sense of humor, heart.  For a time, when I was drinking constantly, years ago, I thought, “Hey, this is another thing we have in common.”  My dad had been an alcoholic when he was younger too, so I got this, miserable, ironic sense of.. connection?  I dunno.


So, after my dad died, my family kinda died.  I know my mom cared, but there was just this, distance.  And I kinda hated her for a while, so there’s that too.  My brother got all quiet, and adult-ish.  Man of the house, that kind of crap.  So I was pretty much left to my own devices.  Which turned out to be sex drugs and…  Can Korn and NIN be considered rock n’ roll?  That, and booze, ofc.


Heh.  I guess I’m as over it as I can be.  A therapist a few years back told me that my father’s death, and my sortof “abandonment” by my mom and brother left me “emotionally stunted.”  Like emotionally, I’m still 12.  I’d much prefer thinking of it as still being 11.  Everything before February of that year.  ^^

Random Thoughts, III

Tonight was rough on TWD.  I don’t want to post any spoilers, just in case.  Lemme just say I cried for about an hour and a half.  Like, pitiful girly weeping (along with not so girly, huge honking sniffles).  I will be waking up tomorrow with eyes so swollen I will have trouble seeing.  😦


Now, as a rule, I am not a girly-girl.  I have pretty much given up on make-up, the only thing I do to style my hair is french braids or putting it up in a bun to get it out of my face (you can get some really amazing curl doing this), and my clothing consists of nothing but jeans, torn t-shirts, and guys button-downs.  My hair really is my one vanity though, I’ll admit it.  ^^


Oh, and just one little “beauty tip” type thing.  A great simple daily facial.  🙂  Mix up some honey, lemon juice and a bit of cocoa powder.  (Say, 3 tbsp honey and 2 tbsp lemon juice (fresh, bottled, w/e), and a tsp cocoa. – I don’t have an exact recipe, but that’s close.)  Mix/keep it in a resealable container, preferably something microwaveable.   Every night before bed, or after washing your face, whenever it’s convenient, warm and stir the mix and apply a thin layer to your face.  Keep that on for at least 20 minutes (up to an hour), then rinse off with cool/cold water.  It’s amazing how soft it leaves your skin, srsly.  The honey is a moisturizer, the lemon works as a sort of bleaching agent to even skin tone, and the cocoa powder has something to do with anti-oxidants, lol.  Just be warned! – if you’ve just given your face a good scrub, the lemon will sting!  Learned that the hard way…


I can’t really say that will completely help one’s complexion.  I still break out like a teenager.  Maybe that’s why, at 32, I still get carded?


Jeez, I’ll be 33 in about 4 months…  Maybe 33 will be a good year.  I have a thing about the number 9 and its multiples.  9’s are good.  And 33 = 3×3 which is 9!  So yeah, age 33 is gonna be the turning point.  It’s gonna be good.




The thing about having kids..  I’ve gone back and forth on the subject my entire life.  When I was in my teens – late teens, hell no.  I hated kids.  I’d worked at a daycare and it was a nightmare.  But in my early 20’s, I thought, maybe.  I met a guy I loved and thought I’d spend the rest of my life with.  But I thought, there are so many kids out there who for whatever reason don’t have parents to come home to.  So I really wanted to adopt.  He wasn’t so much into that idea.  Our relationship ended, not because of that, it just fell apart.  And I spent a good 5 years with no mans, and no intentions of having one, or a family.

When I next met someone I fell head over heels for, he again wanted kids of his own.  But, as amazing as he was, he was entirely too immature and unstable.  Couldn’t take care of himself, much less the slew of kids he’d have liked me to bear him.  The next time I gave it any kind of serious thought, I’d pretty much decided that no, kids were not in my future.

By chance, last year I met up with the man I’d fallen for in my early 20’s.  For a minute, we fell back in love, and we talked about it.  I had to ask him, “Do you really, actually want kids, or is this just some societal necessity?”  He couldn’t answer.  It was a huge break with us.  That he couldn’t tell me whether or not he wanted children, that he’d just go along with whatever I wanted…

Anyway, like I said before, at this point in my life, I don’t see it.  If I find a man I want to share my life with, I don’t want to share him with kids.  I’m selfish.  And the responsibility of a relationship in and of itself is a challenge.  And I’m not big on responsibility, lol.  Part of me does still want to have kids.  Of my own, or adopted.  I’m a nurturer, I want to hold someone, support them, teach them, watch them grow and try to guide them…  Part of my heart breaks, thinking that I won’t be able to do that.  But that’s life.  And I’m ok with that.




I want a treadmill for Christmas.  =P  My youngest cousin, Kiddo (I think his real name is Florentino), lost like, over 100lbs last year just from walking.  I’d walk around my neighborhood, but it’s not the safest place.  And, how nice would it be to spend an hour on the treadmill while reading, watching TV or playing a video game?  Niiiiice.  lol  I don’t wanna be skinny, I just want to drop a couple pounds and get a bit more healthy (while indulging in my lazy activities).  =D


Sometimes I wonder how much of me is me.  I mean, so many of my likes and interests have been shaped by friends, family, exes…  NIN, Korn..  Anime, video games (before I met Lonnie – the guy I wrote about in the “Unhealthy Relationship” blog – I’d never played a console game).  Dimmu Borgir.  The Dark Tower books.  The Sword of Truth books.  VAST.  Shuffleboard.  Songs like “Hotel California” and “Paint it Black.”  “Brown Eyed Girl” and “Stand by Me.”  Pot and alcohol.  I think knitting is mine.  I think zombies are mine.  I know viking knit is mine.  It’s just, how much of me is truly me, not influenced by those around me?


I feel like an asshole, a real shithead sometimes.  I can’t explain, I’ve tried to, and it just makes me feel like even more of a shithead asshole….


I like that I have grey hairs.  I’m encouraging them to grow into a solid streak like Rogue, but they’re resisting.


I’m so, so so so uncomfortable with people liking me.  Jeez..  Even saying that makes me want to bury myself in the backyard…  It’s fucking sick, it really is.  I crave the attention, the appreciation, the…  acceptance.  But at the same time, it’s so uncomfortable that it hurts.  I’m grateful.  But there’s something about it that really makes me hate myself.  I said it was sick.  >.>



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