Maine Moose

As most of us know now, I live in Maine now. Its been a few months, some of them easier than others (money-wise) but overall its been pretty wicked. That's what we say up here. Wicked. Honestly, its like the South transplanted a state up north just to show it whose really boss. The people are sweet and friendly most of the time. The place is covered in green. There's beaches and amazing seafood. Historical houses. Awesome.

This week we have a friend visiting! Ms. Kanarae if you Tumblr or DevaintArt. She's pretty damn cool. I like it when people visit because life turns into an adventure! :D Her first night was spent engaged in a Supernatural drinking game sure to get you plastered. It was fun. Hit my limit earlier than those two vikings (Kaihley and Emily). It was also Jaime's first night back from visiting her mum and step-dad in Florida. Seems like it did her a lot of good. So the whole fam damily was up here at our place.

Yesterday some of the girls (it was Father's day and Ms. Hill spent it with her dad) and I got to go to Boothbay Harbor to derp around. The weather was beautiful. We ate at a lovely place that I don't remember the name too. There was calamari, salad, good natured waiter trolling (which he was well compensated for) delicious sirloin burgers and making things awkward by slipping on my jeans over my shorts at the table. We were the funnest group in the joint. Also, we hit up Enchantments. I got David some lovely lavender oil. It left my hands feeling amazing. Then we hunted for a music box store that had to exist but we couldn't find it.

 After I dropped Kaihley and Em at the apartment, Jaime and I went to see David again. We ended up at Subway so they could share dinner and make good conversation before she headed back to her apprenticeship. Which sounds really neat. Learning to live primarily out of nature, and more reasonable ways to do things. Anyway, when we headed up to Farmington I decided we would looking for this guy who 'bought' her Jeep from her without actually giving her the money due. Cops are involved. On the way to taking Jaime back to her actual living facility, we saw a moose.

That's right. A MOOSE. The unicorn of the North. The animal kingdom's lumberjack. The mascot of Maine's durability. A moose! It was young female. She was so majestic and furry. I stopped the car initially because her eyes glinted in the darkness and I thought "Deer, there could be more." Then, there she was. Walking alone through the mountainous woods of Maine. The best part was she didn't have a calf with her. Apparently moose are incredibly violent and protective. They'll straight up charge at a car, jump on top of it and demolish it. Several people have died this way from the roof caving in and breaking their necks. The best suggestion is to reverse and see if you can outrun it.

When we dropped Jaime off I discovered another wonder. There are fireflies in Maine. Say what now? I had not idea those buggers survives all the way up here! It was magical.

Drove back with David then came home. Took Em to see her dad and share Chinese with him at work. That was nice. Mr. Pete is pretty cool. Then we came home, just Em, Kaihley and myself and ordered Dominos. I hit the sack and for the first time in a while, actually slept through the night I think. I had terrible dreams though.

One was about this kid in who had been spooked by his friends and developed the power to control metal. Like Magneto but less malicious. Mostly he just lifted it and move it place to place. I freaked because his friend was very powerful at doing what he was new too. Apparently I wanted to protect them. Keep them in control of themselves. Just in case they rampaged and murdered all the people. The other dreams were more emotional than frightening. Just weren't pleasant. BUT. I slept. So, mission fucking accomplished there.

Toodles, bros.

Hey, LISTEN!

So, I'm walking around with my boyfriend on Monday on our way to rent Army of Darkness (considering doing a fem version of Ash?) when out of the dimming blue sky my mind is like "Dude, remember that idea you used to have? You know, of becoming a published author and not wasting your life? Why don't we work on that?"

After a wicked night of Bruce Cambell, dubstep and ice cream I came home to my little apartment and starting diligently gathering my better poems. I put them in the right format and I promptly uploaded the manuscript to CreateSpace. I have now have an ISBM number for my future book of poetry Made from Scratches. Em, Hill and I are doing the cover photo today. Maybe. Then the cover will be done and the manuscript will be reveiwed and shit will be ready to GO.

SIDENOTE: CreateSpace is an independent publisher through Amazon that allows people to produce genuine products of their creativity and sell them through Amazon, CreateSpace and other venues as a physical to digital product. Because it is not contractual, and you retain all the rights to your work, its a pretty good gig. Plus, you know, royalties.

I feel sort of awesome. Of course, I have huge reservations and doubts and no expectations of success at all, but HEY, I'm getting off my ass and doing it. The worst that happens is that I lose a little faith in myself on the level of poetry.

I just wanted to share that tidbit of my life.

Here's my superlameface website:

https://sites.google.com/site/clfwriting/home  go there. Give me some advice on how to make it swankier.

Off and On

Hey world. Its been a little bit, eh? Saint Pattie's just happened, the world is turning green and warm again. Not too shabby.

It's been  strange few weeks for me, personally. I've come off of the SSRI I was on to help moderate my anxiety. In an act of taking control over myself and shrugging off the much abused system of psychiatric narcotics, I've chosen to just stop. There's nothing wrong with me on a biological level, so there's no reason for me to keep taking a medication that could easily be replaced with exercise and personal accountability. For the record, I'm not dissing Paxil users. I was on it for something like seven months. When I buckled and chose to start taking it, I was in a pretty terrible place that I wasn't quite able to come from. But I'm done with that.

It's my life, goddamnit, and I'll do with it what I please.

The withdrawals are bitch though. One week out of the rabbit's hole and I've been pretty ill. Tremors, depressive moods, aggression, nausea, headaches, dizziness, loss of balance, lethargy. The ride may have some potholes, but it'll be worth it. I'm trying to cut my dependence on outside substances for happiness or mood stabilizers. Even, should I dare to say, caffeine. A little. Mostly to prove that I don't need them to make my life work, and that I don't need crutches. This is for myself.

Plus, with  roommate whose dieting it probably wouldn't hurt for me to start getting healthier and stop being such a lazy lardo. Haha.

Anyway. Not much is going down. The drive from Augusta to Portland is crazy long, so I've given up on working for H&M for the time being. I'll be starting at Best Buy this Friday. I'm excited for it. I also applied for a job working with kids after school to gain life skills and independence. I hope I get it. Two jobs, an apartment. WOO. Responsibility. I had to take my first piss test for Best Buy, which was a strange experience. Weed is pretty prevalent up here. And so freaking casual! Some guy came up to David, Hillary and I and asked for some out of the blue. Maine is a different animal. Which is hilarious, given all the crap I've given people over time for smoking, thinking the world ran like the places I lived. Not this place man. Eyes opened.

Coming up in April I'll be going to my first Anime Convention in Boston. That'll be a freaking blast. I'm loving it already. David is cosplaying some great characters. Em is blowing my mind with her costumes and our entire group is just going to be a blast. I love how friendly is. When I first got up here, it was like having an entire little family to pal around with. It was nice having a group of friends all at once again. Having things to do like run to another town to see my boyfriend perform or go watch a DnD game with Emily.

I'm also extremely off and on frustrated. Trying to stop being as hard headed as I am, which is hard. I don't want to be super opinionated, mostly because it makes me feel rude and embarrassed with myself so I self-admonish and then hide. I feel a little like I've been head butting people and issues and I'm tired and a little hurt over it. As in, when I think about it I cringe because my chest tightens because I'm worried about the people I love up here. So, I've been biting my tongue and then not being able to and feeling guilty about it. It sucks, not being able to tell people how you feel because you know they'll react negatively and the guilt will just make everything dull and grey when it's supposed to be shiny and bright.

Interpersonal crises for the sake of person development for the win! I guess...

Anyway, off to be away. Laters.

How I Got Where I Am

Listening: Don't Tell Me It's Over- Gym Class Heroes

It was early July and I was hurdling down the highway in a car belonging to my friend’s parents when I decided I was going to move to Maine. This was sort of a shock to me, but not nearly as much as to the dear friend I had already bargained to move in with in Boise, Idaho.

I spent several years in Idaho and attempted to go back every other year. It had a desert beauty that was different than any other place I had lived. The smell of sage in the summer, the nearly unbearable heat, and the putrid cold of the winter had haunted my soul and dreams for every day since I had been removed on military orders. I missed it. Anytime we rolled passed a pasture of cows I would get homesick for the barren lower west of the state. My plans had always involved going back, getting a degree from Boise State and spending my adult life lounging around with some of my favorite people in the world. Friends I still depended on all the time to keep me sane and grounded.

But from the point that the wheels of the jet landed in the Portland Jetport, I felt something I had not felt in years.

I felt at home.

It was an idea I battled for the first few days of my visit. I had promised, swore even, that I would go to Idaho when I graduated with my degree in December. It was all I had wanted for years of my life. An attainable dream I was five months away from achieving.

As the car that picked me rolled down the interstate away from the city to Augusta and we were surrounded by trees and stories of how the pack I would be introduced to got along, I felt comfortable and even eager to meet these strangers. Admittedly, and I let my friend know this, I hated people. Over all they just aren’t the sort of beings I like to be around. Emily had great taste though, and I trusted her.

Days later when we were heading back from the coast with her brother in the driver seat and me and the lovely earth eyed David in the backseat discussing the itis and sleep comas and what are plans would be for me leaving I knew I was going to move up there. I was trying to convince Sarah to come with me because I love her endlessly and we are family, and I cannot imagine life without her. There was no plan, no organization. Simply the knowledge that I was going to live in Maine because its where I felt like I belonged.

I have been accused of moving for a boy. Though, we were not seeing each at the time and in all honesty hadn’t spent a lot of time together. It’s hard to explain that when someone already has their ideas set about a situation. Yes, David is a factor in my choice, but at the time I had no idea if my fantasy of dating him would ever be a reality. I simply had a feeling I had not felt in several years.

I was content.

It is such a simply thing to be, a state that too many take for granted with demands for more and more until their misery consumes them and their inability to sustain their happiness drowns them. The past four years had been a trial to me at times and fast-forwarded in others. There was no sense of stability for me to hold on to. I had my family, but the fear of it falling apart was too real for it to be a comfort. I had my schooling but in the scheme of my life listening to a professor tell me how to understand something lost the beauty it held when I was in grade school.

In Maine, driving along the tree lined highways where deer and fawns could be seen waiting to cross a street and the river cuts under an abandoned railroad bridge behind the gaming café, I was comfortable and happy. I was at peace. I hadn’t expected that to happen, not to me, and definitely not in a place I had chosen to visit on a whim to escape the reality of my life for a few days. A close friend and I had mutually chosen to put an end to whatever romance that could have been. It was the year after my grandfather, a man I loved dearly and had not seen in 13 years, had passed away from a heart attack. My first funeral.

I suppose in retrospect after I received that phone call from my wailing younger sister, who was fourteen at the time, I had changed. The anger at my biological father over being so self-absorbed and cowardly about calling me himself burned at me for several months. My anger at him for not bothering to pick up his other daughter so she could say goodbye to her grandfather, a man she’d known her whole life, made me want to hit him. I wanted very badly to hurt him and make him understand what type of person I thought he was. When I saw him for the first time since 1997, I lost my nerve. He was a wreck and my eyes burned from my mascara mingling with my tears. I hugged him and tried desperately to let it go.

My boyfriend at the time broke up with abruptly right after I got back from the funeral and I took two months off from work. Two weeks of that time were spent driving through Oregon with Sarah, and staying in a cabin on the beach. It was beautiful and calming and I will never be able to make her understand what she did for me. I felt like I was falling into tiny, miserable pieces and had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. But she was there to help be and we were adventurers and for a few weeks the world was our oyster.

I think that was when I really decided I needed to go. It was solidified, there were no actual plans made, but it was what I wanted. It’s what I needed, in all honesty. My baby brother was off to be a first year at the University of Virginia, I was stuck in a dead end retail job with managers I hated and customers who gave me ulcers. I developed severe anxiety about life. Nothing felt real, nothing made sense and nothing mattered. Eventually I started trying again. I made friends with a girl from work, and tried not to hate where I was at in my life. I began rewriting my novel. I tried to decide exactly what I needed to do with my life to be happy.

I changed my hair every three weeks until I was exhausted with running away from myself and who I was.

A friend and I began hanging out, and he reminded me of everything I wished I could be sometimes. I began taking Paxil to control the gut-ringing anxiety that had made me lose 15 pounds in two weeks until I was a meager 103 pounds soaking wet. The new manager at my job made me wonder how much jail time I could get for fist-fighting on company property. I made more friends and we went to dinner every week and it was great. I was gaining something of myself back. This gentleman and I parted ways peacefully and I cut my hair and bought a plane ticket that would change the direction of my life.

Emily greeted in Portland (Maine, not Oregon. Portland in Oregon is for bitches) with a bear hug and a stranger named Chelsie who was decent but obviously had stuff to work through that got in the way of her personality. I was greeted at the gaming café by Emily’s mom, dad and brother. Everyone loved me and I felt like I was 10 years old again staying the night. Sue fussed over my weight and we all laughed. I played pool. Then I met Jaime and David while we made plans to do silly things like ghost walks (worth it) and touring an abandoned asylum. David wore cargo shorts and a scarf with Converse in desperate need of duct tape or super glue and Jaime had cropped hair and shorts on over her colorful tights and purple shoes. They were beautiful and there was an instantaneous need for me to know them, and I wasn’t going to rest until I did.

The way the group worked was something I had missed after years of having one or two friends at a time. They were a family. We all slept over at Emily’s house in a pile in the living room while David played and beat Dead Space 2 all night long until us four girls took over the bedroom with beanbags and open windows. It was the best sleep in a few months for me, and it was nice to be in a place where leaving the door unlocked wasn’t considered idiocy.

I knew pretty immediately that I was going to live there. I had no idea how I was going to get there, or how I was going to pay for it, but I knew. I kept telling Emily and David and my parents that it was going to work out and to stop worrying about it. Things fall into place when they should, and this was going to happen. I had no doubts. Plans or no plans there nothing stopping this force of nature from occurring because when I had been up in the state I had been told in a subtle voice from nowhere that it would happen. Everyone has become pieced together in magically mind-bending ways.

After mom’s second hospital stay and I quit my job at Forever 21, I took a few months off from work. My car, my beloved white ninja, was murdered by a flashflood that took over our rented condo. I visited my family in South Carolina a few times. I wondered how I was going to make this happen. Emily and I began planning. I bought a new car and lived off of my payoff and savings until I landed a fantastic job at H&M that I was able to get transferred up north. Emily found an apartment that adores dogs and was just within our price range and didn’t have bars on the windows.

It’s open for us to move in the weekend I move up there. Destiny or something like that. I’m excited about it and I can’t wait. I have to visit my brother at school before I leave, and I need money to rent the U-Haul but it’s coming. I’m going to pay my grandfather back as well. I’m scared of leaving my family for the first time, but I know I’ll be alright. Dad is making me sign a contract stating if he gets his business to happen that I’ll come down and work it. Which I will. A promise is a promise. I’ll make him pay for it and count it as a tax write-off though.

17 days to go. Here I come, ready or not. Here I come.

Schools Out

The only graduation song I need. 

So, the race is won and what not. I beat the American education system with my small freckled fist like the boss I was born to be. Hilariously, the day before graduation the arts building caught fire because of the decrepit heating system. It was saved, no extensive books. But I felt Alice Cooper would be appropriate. Now I can focus on making money, going to Maine and introducing another state to my awesomeness.

On a related note to making money because I'm poor as fuck, popcorn is now a food group to me. My pyramid sort of looks like ramen over popcorn over sugar with a caffeine base. I forgot to eat before work so I came home, popped a bag and am chilling out to the Venture Bros. with it while Gidget complains about her lack of sex. She went into heat and apparently is heart broken that I put Biscuit in mom's room. Poor guy was wiped out. And walking funny. I thought he could use a break.

Hilariously, Gidget doesn't totally understand mating, so when Biscuit slows down she tries to take the top position. I don't think she knows it doesn't work that way.

Its almost Christmas. In case you didn't know. I'm stoked to the max. No idea what I'm getting, really, but everyone is home and getting along. There's a ton of cookies and macaroni and cheese. There will be bacon and meat. And cookies. And bacon. I've been listening to my random Christmas songs, like Here Comes Son Goku and what not.

H&M is great. The best job so far. Though tonight was slow and boring, I won't complain because I'm making moneys. The people are nice, the work is decent and the customers are better than Forever 21. However, those last minute bitches who like to mess up my perfect racks piss me the fuck off. Don't come into my store 10 minutes before closing, flip clothes over the rack and not even buy something. I also don't want to hear you bitch that a seven dollar dress doesn't come in your size, you angry moo cow. BITCH. This is not Torrid.

Which is horrible of me, but that woman was a level 10 narcissistic douche. I apologize we don't carry your size, I do, but don't take it out on my racks. Just because I get paid to work there doesn't mean you get to treat my store like a fucking free for all. Also, keep you damn kids out of my displays or I swear I'll loosen the mannequins from the bases enough to scare the shit out of them. Inattentive parenting dicks.

Rambling done. Good job is still good.

Sarah told me recently I don't talk about David all that often. Which is true. Why? Because if the world discovered just how freaking awesome he is, someone may try to take him. And that would mean I'd have to fight a bitch. He really is the best man in the world. Sweet, funny, smart, witty. It totally helps he thinks I'm beautiful and tells me so every day. And that he believes that my craziness is what makes me epic.

So, I try not to talk about him not just to rub how fucking great he is into my friends' faces, but also because I fear becoming that girl whose always ranting about her boyfriend. I now he's awesome. He knows I know. Fuck the world, we make our own rules. I don't want to go on facebook and do the 'I miss you baby' 'My sweetie is so cool. Can't breathe without him. Its like Stockholm but more romantic' or 'I love my boyfriend because he hasn't filed a restraining order yet, and even when he does, it won't stop me'. Those girls aggravate me to no end. I can live without David. Its perfectly human.

But I really don't want to. I think that's more important. We would survive without each other just fine, but neither of us wants to face that world. Missing pieces and whatnot.

Anyway, Goodnight world. Popcorn is gone so its time for dreams.

Tree Octopodes

It's finals week, I'm panicking like a mad woman. The weather is shifting so rapidly my head feels like it will explode in five seconds. There's a lot going on, I've got to say.

So, in my mad rush yesterday to finish (by finish I mean start, edit, and print) my eight page autobiography for Fiction class I happened to be present for something interesting. A psychology graduate student was being reviewed by a panel of senior staff (double entendre there, because all the gents were old as sin).

On a random note, I'm getting pissed at Chrome for telling me entendre is not a word, but gents is. Moving back to the topic at hand.

This girl is about twenty-two at most. She's explaining to them that in her teaching assignment she wanted to explain things in two meshed ways. Be innovative. Involve the class. How to use Xtra Normal to get the students to build funny tutorials so they grasp the materials. That caught my attention. I about pissed myself with laughter when she started explaining about The Pacific Northwest Tree Octopus and the movement to save it as an endangered species. When one the older men asked if this was a legitimate campaign I almost had to walk away.

I had never heard of this before at this point, but the mere idea was enough to make me die of laughter. Then I looked it up.

I had a joygasm. Legitimately, I snorted and felt euphoric amounts of pleasure. A website that mentions both Sasquatch, an octopus that lives in conifers, fights over grammar and how to become the biggest idiot in the woods since snype hunting is what heaven is made of. The further I got into the website, the more ridiculously amazing it became. They have faux scientific names and photos and everything. This is the best internet hoax since Bonsai Kitty.

In other news, Russia is in the midst of a revolution because Valdimir Putin rigged the presidential election in the most idiotic way possible. 140% of votes went to him alone. That's not including the votes for other candidates, mind you. You want the news on that, go to 9gag.com. Because apparently Russian government has implemented one hell of a blackout on the media so the story can't be leaked. You know. Since the developed world isn't all the keen on outright oppression.

Let's see. I'm starting work tomorrow. I have two exams left until I'm done with the semester and hopefully school. I'm anxious about it.

I don't have much else to say at the moment. So, goodnight world!

The Bitch Please Paradox

Fuck you. Fuck you and your ridiculous grade school form of cowardice that has let you bitch to me for almost TEN years instead of fixing your fucking middle class issues. Fuck the fact that with all the shit you talk about your life, with all the texts I've answered, phone calls I've taken, advice I've given, projects we've made and all the absolute whining you've done that you don't respect me enough to at least tell me you don't want to speak to me anymore. Double fuck the fact that you were cool until he put that ring on your finger.

I try not to ask for much from people. Honesty, respect. Basic human wants, I think. I ask that you treat me as well as I treat you and not more. If you can't give that, then cut ties so we can both be on our own ways. I guess that's what happened. I just had more invested than the other party.

The deal is, I had a friend from seventh grade until earlier this year. She was really close to me when we lived in Idaho, decently close in Hawaii and since I've been in Virginia due to mutual shit storms our lives haven't totally meshed. But we were still friends. When her douchebag boyfriend cheated on her and they broke up for 48 hours? I was the one she called. And I took that call. We texted and what not. Not always frequently, but I don't consistently text anyone. Even Sarah. And for God's sake, we're engaged!

I go on Facebook, curious because none of my previous texts had been answered and none of my messages or comments replied to to find out she deleted me. Okay, I get it. You're all engaged and growing up. I'm not always easy to deal with and those who can deserve a trophy no doubt. But you could have the fucking respect to tell me personally you have a problem or are tired or whatever the issue is before just cowardly dipping out like a bitch.

In all honesty, its understandable. I won't lie about it. Anyone who knows me knows I can not only be a bitch, but that I'm sometimes very hard to deal with. I'm not even angry she doesn't want to be friends. I'm completely angry with how she went about it. She's not a bad person. As annoyed as I am I'm not an idiot. She's starting a life with someone she loves and all that. Being all adulty. My complaint is completely related to the fact she didn't have the courtesy to forewarn me. Granted, its her nature to avoid conflict as much as humanly possible, still. 8 years feels like it merits some sort of heads up. Well, at any rate I wish her the best. I hope her fiance mans up and matures. I hope she finds a job she's happy at and that her self esteem starts to sky rocket. She does deserve to be happy for once. Its not something she's had a lot of in her life.

In other news. I graduate soon! WOO. I will be the fourth Foltermann, second member of my household and I believe first Holt to receive a college degree. Maybe. My cousin or aunt may have beaten me to it. I will be officially done with school December 17th and plan to party it up with my parents and maybe Tim and a few former work buddies.

I have a new job. I now work at the illustrious H&M, and I am obligated to mention none of my opinions or rants reflect the company, personnel, or values and I am not in any manner a spokesperson or public endorser. I'm excited about it. The company in itself is very interesting and well coordinated, the staff is awesome and the work is stuff I can do. Oh, and there's a store in Portland, Maine so I can likely transfer up there after my exit exam in January.

Which, my move date has been pushed back about a month. I neglected to take my exit exam BEFORE graduating, so I have to take the next one in January. After that I should be home free. I'll be in Maine, tackling moose, cuddling with my beau, and partying with Emily. Who is, by the way, going to be the bestest roommate in the whole wide world. I can't wait to live with her.

I want some steampunk-esque goggles to wear on top of my head. I don't know why, other than I like the way they look. And I have some things to ask my new manager about  before I do them. There's nothing in the handbook for H&M about hair, tattoos or piercings so I want to double check with her before I dye my bangs green or turquoise. I had them pink but it faded quickly.

I'm also on chapter 9 of my novel and missed my National Novel Writing Month deadline by 433 words. One day this book will be on shelves. I will see it happen!

I'm too tired to type right. Off to bed I go.

Goodnight world!!

No longer a Ginger, Still no Soul

Well. I'm hungry, its 11:12pm and I have no more episodes of Big Bang Theory to ogle. Ramen it is.

So, I've been rotating easily between the two worlds of severe boredom and sleep deprivation lately and the result is doing some odd things, writing several chapters for National Novel Writing Month in a single day, and discovering 9GAG. Oh, 9GAG. I feel like you're what everyone meant to save me from my warning me about 4chan. Too late. Soul's gone.

Escaped being a ginger (not that I dislike it) by dyeing my hair dark brown, still forfeit my soul. I'm just doomed, it seems, might as well enjoy it!

So, I'm not sure if I actually made a reference to this or not before but when I visited Maine a post-friend of a friend of mine kept doing what they called The Necromorph Dance. Dead Space, bro. Now, these fucking humanoid monstrosities are nightmares bred with spiders.

(Stolen from Courtesy of ....too fucking long. Its from Google)

They like to eat you. Or stab you. Or delight you with a casual dance that is meant to be imitated with two human beings because we simply lack the sheer number of arms necessary to accomplish the dance on our own. Watching this was a highlight of my visit. Watching Emily fling herself onto David's back and they both started doing it without cue? Out of this world. Doing it on your own, behind your father's back?

Yeah, not as cool. Anyway, school is nearly done and I'm managing to fight the horde of zombies also known as final projects. You want something that truly wants your brain? Try be a fucking engineer. I'm not, but still, vector calculus looks like Klingon to me. 

In local news, I need a FUCKING job. Applied at Target, got a dismissal email. Ka-fucking-pow, bro. Not even a decent rejection call. Just an email that basically said "We saw you worked for Forever 21, and we choose to not associate with your kind." I cuss a lot more later at night than I do when the sun is out. Like a language vampire. Not that I'm much better during the day. I applied at H&M, so hopefully that goes through. Its a temp position, which is what I want, pays over minimum and hey, clothes. All I know is that I need to get my savings back up so I can get my ass up north. I want to start my year of good graces. 

Well, I'm done ranting and such for the night. More updating. Other than my ferrets being overly stimulated jackwagons there isn't much else to talk about. So, have a goodnight. 

Ciao, bitches. 

Land Ducks

Ninja the Ferret is a small furry pain my ass, too good at proving his name. This damn critter devises ways to escape all of his prisons. Seriously. If I didn't have Gidget I'd lose him again. She's a pretty good pointer when it comes to the ferrets, honestly. She nudges him back over the baby gate with her nose. She herds and traps him when he gets loose until I can come fetch him. In another world she'd be a fabulous hunting dog. The one thing she isn't afraid of.

The other ferrets are growing pretty big. They're getting heavy. And way more cuddly than ferrets of the past have been. Gizmo loves to be held. Stitch likes to have his belly rubbed. They're so adorable. I love my boys.

In celebration of my dad's success in school we went out to lunch at El Azteca, a Mexican restaurant. It was nice, we don't go to that particular spot often. The food was really good though. Seriously. And my favorite part? There were freaking ducks outside.

Land ducks.

I say land ducks because back in September, on the 11th when we were hunting for ferrets at Animal Jungle we saw a momma with ducklings. They were adorable fuzz balls. We had to swing the truck around a bend to get close enough for pictures without bothering them. They were living under the cover of a tree by a bank. It caught us my surprise not only because they were in middle of a fucking shopping center, but because these little fluffy bumpkins looked to be very young pretty late in the year.

See? Momma and her little ducklings hiding out under a tree.

Well, we go into El Azteca to get to Mexican party on. Without the tequila. My parents don't need to see me like that, no sir. So, we come waddling out of the place and what do I see round the corner of the back of the building? Land ducks. And they've gotten BIG.

In typical Cynthia fashion I made a big fuss and said if I was out of the truck I would grab one of those ducks. Mom says she'd like to see that. Dad decides this show would indeed be worth it, pulls around the parking lot and parks letting me escape the truck. Mom is taking pictures of this whole thing, by the way, determined I'm going to get mauled. Ducks are some of the only birds I tolerate. Birds are freaky. I dislike most of the them. Annoying, chirpy gits.

What happens when I stalk up to these late bloomers?

The little guys come running right up to me wagging their little ducky tails. It was amazing. I pet a duck and I liked it. Nothing quite like disappointing your mother when she's expecting you to be attacked outright by wild animals you have no business messing with in the first place. And for the record, I do not endorse this. Because they are my ducks. You can go assault your own land ridden aquatic fowl. 

Look at em. Cute little buggers. They're still clinging to a few baby down feathers. Such an odd thing, but it was amazing. I thought I'd share this amazing story. And for the record, Virginia Beach Kill Shelters, if you take my ducks I will maim you.

Quack, motherfucker. 

Like and Addict

I'm sick. Again. This is getting old fast, I used to have an immune system you set a fucking atom bomb off near without repercussions. Now I'm on a mixture of leftover hydrocodone and Tylenol Cold PM Warming, still unable to sleep. I'm considering making my own variety of Lazy Cakes with belladonna and melatonin.

I wrote a crappy rough draft of my project piece for Experimental Psychology, a class I'm pretty much scrapping by in based on my ability to take tastes and bullshit papers. Also, eating extra credit like its a fucking cupcake. The paper was late, so I'm sure that adding that to the fact it was realistically incomplete  I might not get good credit for it. I'm going to have to set up a time to talk to the professor and see if I can make up the projects somehow. Oh, to top off the beginning of the week I have two exams. Awesome. And I believe I have a story due in Fiction.

I'm not in the best of moods. Thank God tomorrow is Halloween. I love Halloween. And I hope I get the call from JCPenney tomorrow. I'm tired of arguing with my mom over whether or not I'll be able to move in December. Its happening, whether or not I'm totally prepped for it. I've made up my mind and for once in my life I'm sticking to my guns and gritting through the speed bumps.

There was something else I wanted to say, but I don't remember. Let's see... Friday was awesome even though I got sick from it. Time with Tim is always a way to go about my life. We went to dinner, frozen yogurt and then to Hunt Club Farms and tortured some children. I was really on my game and I got lei'd by a doll girl. It was awesome. I made friends with zombies and got attacked by a small hillbilly child who was the most adorable fucking thing ever. I also pet sat some guinea pigs who were very sweet. Getting paid in cookies? The only way to live, man.

Oh! I realized Saturday that I treat everything like I'm addicted to it. I drink like I'm in recovery, I refuse drugs because of the idea that I may fall into a deep abyss of pain and ruin, I don't play internet games or do anything outright fun and of my generation for the fear that it will consume me. Its an interesting realization. I may expand on that later.

I have to go now, I think the medicine is kicking in. I'm about to pass out.

Gaydar

Lucky you, you get two posts in one night from me.

In an ongoing battle, my father and I have been discussing the... sexuality of a friend of mine. My dad is determined this guy simply is ambiguous to his own desires. I keep pointing out the evidence that lends to the opposite. This particular character in my life is pretty spot on on what he wants. Or, moreover, who he wants it from. For over a week now this has gone on and on and on. I'll bring this gentleman up and my dad will shoot back randomly with "I still don't think he's gay."

Today at dinner, celebrating adding a new truck to the family, we got into this conversation again. I blame myself. I brought him up. I was told, by this friend of mine, that I'm a hag because my gaydar is always tripping. This is something I can completely handle. Also, if Virginia Beach didn't have so many men locked in their closets, I might not always be detecting them. That's neither here not there.

So, while explaining this to my parents in a true Foltermann family dinner fashion I point out how this particular male friend of mine who prefers gentlemanly callers has no concept of how to find said men to call upon him. His gaydar is about six clicks from calibrated. Its like he has the compass Jack Sparrow wants to protect so badly (which is probably a good analogy. Let's face it Johnny, you aren't fooling anyone just because of the kids). Mom laughed and dad got confused, but let it go.

I'm downstairs, about to head up, and as I'm gathering my laptop, sweet tea, and dog Dad looks at me and goes "Hey, I just thought of something!"

"That's a nice change."

"Shut up. If (we'll call him Bob) Bob's gaydar doesn't work, how does he know he's gay. Radars identify themselves."

"Dad, he can't tell if other men are gay. He knows he is. We've talked about this. And radars don't show their home tower on the screen."

"No, but they recognize it. I think he's confused."

"Well, does your gaydar ping on you?"

"No."

"You have a pretty fucked up and unreliable gaydar, Dad. I mean, for all you know, you're confused. Maybe its supposed to ping and it doesn't because it isn't calibrated right."

"You're just making shit up now."

"No, I'm using the same logic you applied to Bob and you. I'm just right."

"Go upstairs."

So I go upstairs and tell him goodnight, and get almost to the top when I hear, "And I still love you even though Bob isn't gay."

"I think you need get calibrated!"

"Hag!"

And that's the end of my night. After bullshitting a single page, thorough proposal paper on the differences between rehabilitation and detention in the juvenile justice system, I got to unwind discussing my friend's sexuality with my father. Times are good.

Sheldon is Amazing

Watching: The Big Bang Theory

So, today has been interesting. Definitely one of my more productive days as of late. Even though I never got around to writing that proposal that's already late.

Yesterday, before losing my ferret and after baking the lemon cupcakes, I realized that part of our ceiling was caving in from water damage. I woke up this morning before my alarm went off to a phone call from my mother to tell me that the repair guy was coming to fix the water pipes. Oh, and half the damn ceiling was on the dining room floor. I came downstairs to plaster and water making a party out of the carpet. Do you know what plaster does when its mixed with stale water? It turns into the shit your art teacher wouldn't let you play with unsupervised because when it dries it DOES NOT COME OFF. It was like a paste that looked down at paper mache and poked it in the fucking eye.

So, one repair guy and 21 frosted cupcakes later, after I washed every dish left unguarded in the kitchen, I released the hounds from where I had locked them in my room. They eat people, so we have to keep them trapped when we have visitors. Anyhow, with a group of a maniacal dogs hungry for the blood they'd missed out on, I managed to salvage the carpet. Somewhat. I hadn't known plaster could leave stains. I picked up, scrubbed, and vacuumed the carpet until it practically sparkled.

So, after I cleaned I made lemon bars and waited out the clock until it was time to meet Tim on campus. We went to see Steve Almond read from his recent book and from collected poetry and essays he's self-published. Dinner at Red Lobster and one episode of Big Bang Theory after, and I'm weighing an extra five pounds day dreaming about my boyfriend trying to work up the energy to stop procrastinating and do my damn homework. Since yesterday I've been a little worse to the left of kilter. Losing a ferret in the great outdoors for nearly an hour will do that to you.

We shouldn't have named him Ninja.

I love this show. Its so amazing. Funny, smart and reminds me of a lot of people I know. Sheldon is a mixture of some of my high school friends and my little brother. Plus, I really love nerd humor. I know more about comic books, movies, super heroes, and theoretical physics because of this show than I know what to do with.

So, on that note I'm going to try to do my homework now, and have a good evening with a bath and some homemade sweet treats.

I'm a Google Slave

I discovered that I'm a slave to Google and content with that arrangement. Google takes care of me. It tells me when I forget to do things I told it were important. It helps me decide if someone is being a dick about pricing on things I want. It organized my blog, email and media accounts. It sends everything to my phone and tablet seamlessly. Google is amazing.

I'm also incredibly tired again. It seems to be a trend. I talked to my mom about it after doing some light investigating into why my dreams are seemingly turn into hallucinations, and I've apparently never slept. Not even as an infant. This is something I knew about myself, but its taken on a whole new meaning given my new attention to my sleep cycle. I'm naturally inclined to either require less amounts of sleep or my body was created with a deficit somewhere that impairs REM from occurring at 'regular' rates. Psychologically and biologically speaking, its intriguing to wonder about the consequences.

I should explain where this rant is coming from. Recently I was on hydrocodone. It didn't react well at all with me, which my doctor didn't seem to understand. I stopped sleeping nearly at all. I got about two hours a day for three days. I started hallucinating conversations with people that weren't even there, and at one point my dreams went into such a vivid state that I could no longer distinguish that line between dream and reality. I was walking a very fine edge, slipping off either side abruptly. Since then my schedule hasn't fully readjusted, so I've still been a little strange in the head. I won't lie, its a bit inspirational in my writings and it opens up some crazy freeway of perception and thought (most likely a fallacy) in my mind. Its a bit disconcerting.

Anyhow. In my sudden lack of sleep, I've become enveloped in a new pocket of time. While its hard for me to focus entirely on any given specific task I'm browsing information with more gusto than usual. I'm also able to mindlessly crank out pages of energy based stories at a time. So, I've taken to connecting my electronic devices to one another via internet tethering through Google software. I've updated my online calenders, connected my addresses, pretty much everything.

And now, I feel geeky enough and I'm going to bed. Or, to go watch Family Guy.

Freaky Fright Night

I'm sleepy.

It's the end half of October and I haven't got much to show for it at this point. I've been to Busch Garden's twice, once for the horror and once for the thrill rides. I haven't made it to Hunt Club Farms this year, yet. It just hasn't felt very Halloweeny, really, until about this week. We had a stifling mid-80s day earlier in the week and its been delightfully in the 60s since, setting the mood for a lovely fall. And, in the spirit of one of my favorite national traditions, I chose to scare nightmares into myself for the hell of it.

I watched Paranormal Activity, the first one, for the first time by myself last night. Holy Jesus in an apron, that was an intense little movie. I ended up texting David at some point during the beginning half to express my disbelief of my own stupidity at watching the damn thing, alone, at night. He called to comfort me and subtly tell me to stop being a pussy. Then I squeaked into the phone and he realized I was STILL watching the damn movie, and laughed at me a little before trying to convince me he had my back.

Let me explain. Through all of my ramblings and tirades I fail to mention to people there are a few things that immediately freak me the fuck out. I don't like senseless, realistic gore. Its horrifying. Things were people could actually be dying, or where its based on a true story and the psychopath responsible is out there running free in the cornfields of Texas, they don't do well by me. I search my house for three months with a loaded gun and try to pretend I'm not a total chicken. Then there are movies about hauntings. Some of these are decent, well meaning and obviously fictional fliks that are out for a cheap scare and decent ratings. Then you have the Paranormal Activity bloody franchise.

All I can say is, if the third one is like the first one (I'm skipping the second. I don't have that big of a masochistic streak) then I'm just going to stop sleeping. Just for a few days. Mom doesn't watch scary movies if she can help it. This is the woman who screamed like a banshee in Signs when the alien's hand comes from under the door. She's a very faint hearted person when it comes to horror and the like, and puts up with it if we make her but normally weasels out of it if she can find a suitable excuse or replacement. Or, as is the case with Dad and I going to see the third installment of this franchise on Sunday, she just tells us to go fuck ourselves kindly because we're going alone and if the baddies get us, we have it coming.

I'm excited and terrified about this at the same time. I like to be scared sometimes, but honestly when its said and done, I'm still scared. It doesn't matter if I asked for it, or if I wanted it to happen. At the end of the day I'm still sleeping with my lights and TV on, a bundle of sage in one hand and a circle of salt to protect me. I'm exaggerating.

Today has been sort of off feeling. It might be because the world was supposed to end again. It might be because the War in Iraq is 'over'. It might be because I'm still on a medication regiment from the doctor and am just rolling back into a decent sleep schedule. Who knows.

Point of the matter is, as well as writing, I've decided to make tonight as relaxing as possible. I'm playing violin music, my candles are lit, there are scented salts making my bath feel awesome, I have lavender soap to chillax me, white rose tea to calm my spirit, a cleansing face mask and strawberry filled chocolate. Its quite lovely. If I had rose petals in the tub with me it would be straight up romantic in here tonight. I'm really just trying to outrun this odd feeling in gut that I can't shake. I can't tell if its my usual paranoia of failure or if its personal doubt or what, but its there. Meh. I hate having emotions at times.

Anyhow. National Novel Writing Month is coming up in just over nine days and I will be participating this year. The goal is 50,000 words in 30 days. I can do that. I'm also applying for work again, hopefully going to land a job so I can get my reserves back up so I can still be in Maine by New Years Day.

Enough rambling. American Dad is on, so its almost time to get out of the bath.

Goodnight, all.

Sound Art is Revenge

Well, the passed few weeks have been interesting. My poor little white Ninja drowned in a flash flood that hit our condominiums. I've been to South Carolina twice. My favorite part?

David, my darling, came to visit for four days. It was amazingly high inducing to have him close enough to brush my fingers against. My vague memories and all the pictures he's sent me did not do him justice. It was like a waking dream to have him riding shot gun with me, having him close enough to breath in and talk to so that I could see his facial reactions. I've never been one to get high off of someone's presence, but that boy is some sort of drug to me.

He brought me a moose pillow pet from Maine. I squealed and huggled it. Her name is Lucy the Moosey, and she smells just like him. So kamfy too. Between her and my $1.62 pillows from Walmart my bed is super comfortable at night.

Anyhow, David is a music major. He's brilliantly talented at composing and is particular amazing at playing string instruments (guitar and piano being my two favorites, though I'd love to hear his violin). I had the pleasure of hearing some of his personal creations and have never been so impressed in my life. Of course, I am a little biased. After all, he did sort get to leave with my heart in his back pocket.

David's first night in town lead us from the airport right to the beach, where we walked under the moonlight. He carried me part of the way because I was in heels. It was beautiful, being able to lay in the sand beside him in the quiet night watching silver waves hit the shore. Watching him. Then we spent Thursday between my classes and the dealership where I bought my lovely 2006 Ford Focus, dubbed The Beast. It was dreadfully boring for him and mum, but they stuck it through like champs. Friday we did homework and hit up Busch Gardens for Hallowscream.

Saturday we spent the day at Busch Gardens again, courtesy of my fun pass and his free ticket. Roller coasters are way different after dark than they are during the day. It was all sorts of levels of epic. We ate like obese first graders. By that I mean I unleashed my inner fat girl and dove face first into a strawberry shortcake funnel cake (funnel cake, powdered sugar, chocolate sauce, strawberries and ice cream) and we shared a blue raspberry icee. When we finally headed home after being bosses, we met up with the family to go out to dinner. Twas delicious and meat filled.

On our way to Logan's we passed a Hooter's and I made a joke about becoming a Hooter's girl for a new job, since I'm still mooching off my parents and have to move in December so I can keep my obligations. Mom made a joke about me not being able to wear the shorts and David's response was "Hey, you can work there and I can drop of school to go to Europe and try to be a rockstar". I nodded and took his point, but told him it was a hot idea. "Fine, I'll drop out and start to do sound art".

Fuck. That. He's too talented to waste his life on that horrid drivel. Unless its a true passion of his, which its not, I refuse to allow him to destroy himself that way. Ever heard sound art? If not, then don't. Honestly, out of the HOURS of pieces he's endured there has been only one that wasn't so God awful he thought it had some form of practical application.

Point was made. Cyn will not be a Hooter's girl for the safety of my love's future.

Anyhow, he made me crepes with chocolate in bed and had to leave Sunday. Honestly, I don't know what I did to land him, but I'm so thankful for whatever it was. We have this Perpetuating Cycle of Awesome that rolls around us in which we are constantly shocking each other with points of compatibility we hadn't considered before.

Also, this blog has been written under the influence of hydrocodone, one of the ingredients in Vicodin. I have a severely sore throat and a fever, so the doctor decided narcotics was the way to go. Which would have been awesome if they worked. As it is I don't feel particularly inebriated in any sense of the word, I'm wide awake and still in pain. Meh.

I'm going to go bother Tim now with my love. Goodnight all!

Naming Kids Bacon

Chelsea Handler. She's a goddess. A down right, comedic goddess built of half-Jewish pure awesomeness. I'm putting her on my list of people to aspire to be like. Not just for her blunt honesty, her fabulous humor or her ability to gain sex appeal through brutal hilarity directed at others' expenses but because I like that she can make people believe anything. I just finished reading "Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang" and think I'll invest in "Dear Vodka, It's Me Chelsea".

I'm not in Virginia at the moment, by the way. I'm in one of the guest rooms on the only floor of my grandparent's house down at Lake Wateree, South Carolina. My mother is across the hall sleeping off her antibiotics while I grapple with the new found knowledge that egg custard was not meant to be mixed with B&J Strawberry Daiquiris (which taste like strawberry jello) or their Fuzzy Navels (Which taste like orange and peach juice mixed with fun). Of course, mixing two alcoholic beverages, even of the effeminate variety, with my anti-anxiety meds isn't really on the list of things I should be doing in the first place. However, given that it powered me to finish the book, gain blackmail on my mother and be last the person awake in the house, I consider this a great management of my time and resources.

I discovered through a roundabout conversation involving taking my biological father to court over back due child support to the worth of 73 thousand dollars that not only do I inherit some of my facial features from my American-Indian ancestors from both sides of the family, but that my distaste for vodka and its hatred for my stomach lining is hereditary. My grandmother can't drink that swill either without losing her cookies, so it was nice to know I wasn't just slowly dissolving into a whiny thirteen year old girl. I just can't drink fermented potato alcohol, which is a fact of life I'm willing to accommodate.

This trip has been utterly spontaneous and worth the adventure so far. My mother nearly ran over a peacock last night. It was apparently crossing the road and she nearly swerved into a ditch avoiding the damn thing. I, upon initial hearing of the story, accused her of using LSD and not even offering to let me sell it for extra cash. Eventually we discovered somewhere along Rolling Hills Road hides a farm of several hundred peacocks owned by a man who has an obviously unhealthy love for the birds. I learned that not only is DJ, the small child of my heart, still a big admirer of mine but that he has a healthy fear of me I've worked years to instill. He told his mother that when I came to visit I could sleep in his bed with him. When she directed him to clean his room he responded with "Yeah, I know. Because if I don't Cynthia will beat me up!". I'm proud of the little guy. He learns pretty quick.

I've been put to work as a short order cook as well. My grandfather owns a restaurant at an equestrian park a mile passed I-20 down Cleveland School Road off of Black River called Mane Street. He has the best bar-be-que in the world and this is from a woman with legit soul-food cooking black women friends. Well, two of their workers cut out and I pitched in. I'm now trained to make a chicken quesadilla, cheese and double cheeseburgers, french fries, grilled cheeses, grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, BBQ sandwiches, and eat free homemade carrot cake. It was worth learning and spending a few hours working for free to eat that damn cake too. I also discovered that rich people are still jerks, and it doesn't matter where you are. I wish I would be here for when the Westerners came over, because these Yankee riders are obnoxious and unfriendly.

Not too shady for a single day's adventure. We almost ran over some overly large buzzards in the Tiburan because, obviously, that's the only thing to do when you're bored. Mom and I opted to replace my grandfather's Router for the simple fact we can't live without functioning wifi if we don't have to. I should say now that my grandaddy who has the restaurant is not the same one whose house I'm crashing in unannounced this weekend. Mom, JenJen (Who I call Grandma simply because I'm the only one who was trained to), and myself stayed up telling ridiculous stories about Buttersnakes, my brother, myself and my mother.

I've decided that my life is too hilarious sometimes to keep to myself and am contemplating exploiting the people I love by making a book of us at our most ridiculous and unsavory. There will be skewed details, there will be exaggerations, and there will be hilarity. At least in my opinion.

As a parting note, I'd simply like to state for the record that not only did my mom endorse naming my first child Bacon, she now has recruited other family members to expect this from me. I've agreed to allowing for it to be a suitable nickname, and my child will be raised to respond to it solely.

I bid you farewell, kind readers, for I will return who knows when and in God knows what condition next.

Ferrets, Haircuts and School

So, since the handful of people who do read this are my personal friends I'm going to go ahead and give a low down of the events of my life over the passed three weeks. Most of them revolve around my mom almost dying.

Twice.

So, my mom had a surgery and her doctor pushed for a spinal anesthetic. Which would have been dandy if it hadn't leaked her spinal fluid all over her internal organs and caused her blood pressure to drop to 75/48 post op. Her doctor, initially had said that she was fine. She was actually on oxygen for three hours because they couldn't get her to wake up. So, that was awesome times. She, about five days later, ended up back in the hospital. She hadn't been feeling well and had some issues that made the surgeon demand to see her. For a while we thought she had a perforated bowel.

She had an abscess about 9x6 centimeters in her gut that was blockading her stomach and intestines. That was also fabulous. The doctor said we were lucky she came in when she had. Our distant cousin had the same issue and had been hours from death by the time she'd gone in.

Due to the fact my family was in need of some assistance and I was over-stressed and miserable, I quit my job at XXI. So, I'm officially unemployed at the moment, but honestly, I'm pretty okay with it for the second. I wasn't focusing on school enough in my last semester and my anxiety has gone down tremendously since I left. Which is good. I'm still hanging out with Tim and going to Thursdays at Applebees. Life is pretty good now that there's next to no drama happening.

I'm still moving to Maine, it just may take me a little longer to get up there, which I'm not happy about. But I put on my big girl panties and made a decision and will deal with it however I have to. In between moving up there and now, though, David will be coming down to visit me. We met when I went up to visit, and I have to say, he's pretty freakin' wicked. I can't until he comes down to see me, because this long-distance thing is terrible when you can't touch the person you really want to.

The family also bought three ferrets, all boys, who are currently digging in my bed and annoying my dogs. They are Ninja, Stitch and Gizmo. I find them hilarious and adorable, though a bit monstrous in their attitudes.

So, that's a basic recap of my life. I'm off to pickup my room and hang my clothes while being attacked by carpet sharks. Stitch just knocked himself off the bed. So fuzzy. Oh, yeah, and I got my hair cut again. It came out shorter than I'd imagined, but it happens. After this I'm growing it back out. I sort of miss having enough hair to pull into a ponytail. I'm also a brunette for the time being.

Laters guys.

The Hurricane that Wasn't

Listening to: Song of Storms (Dubstep remix, holla)

Nothing like a month between posts to get the blood flowing. Hello writers block.

So! Hey guys. Life is moving forward, the sun is shining, the season is slowly turning to Autumn before my eyes and I'm pretty content for the changes lying ahead of me.

Since I've been back from Maine I've been caught between work and trying to prepare for this move, which is getting harder. Every other day I'm having to shell out money for something. It's ridiculously hard to save at the moment, and I need money. So much money. I'm going to start to doubt though. I made a goal of moving at the end of December and that's what I'll do. The time is the same, the place has changed. I'm going up north to Maine, probably just outside Augusta and rooming with my gal pal Emily. Rent is just as cheap up there, the land is beautiful and green, there are mountains, I'm near old and new friends and there's only an hour to the ocean.

Some asshole broke into my car. And I mean, literally bashed in my window in a shower of $211 glass that I had to replace. That was awesome. I was robbed. They took my first aid kit, my tools, my CDs, some makeup and a fake leather jacket. I doubt the total of what they took was worth the damage inflicted upon my poor Ninja. I'm still angry about it. I seriously considered raging out, but I couldn't. Fucker's. I hope they get clipped by a stray bullet. However, the few CDs I did actually care about, both given to me by close friends, weren't taken. Sentimental, me? They'd been in the door at the time. It wasn't so bad after that.

I'll still mace the mother fuckers if I ever find them.

Then there's work. I hate my job, I'm overdue for  raise I won't receive because my store manager is intimidated by my lack of fear of her. That's cool. I want a new job, but I leave in four months so its sort of a moot point now. Plus, I'm not sure how many full time jobs I can hold down with my new school schedule. I'm still looking though.

Oh! This is my last semester and its looking promising so far. Four classes, most of them two days a week. I think my friend Tim and I might start doing Zumba together between classes for me. I look forward to it. He's being an awesome pal to shop with and chill around with. But he's horrible for my spending, haha. We tend to shop together. It has to stop! But I look forward to hanging out with him at school. School starts tomorrow, we were delayed two days by Hurricane Irene.

Speaking of Irene, though I know at least one of my friends had a hard time through her for reasons that I won't delve into (he's a brave guy, that's all I'll say), it was a weak ass storm on my end. Our power only went out once for a little bit. All it was was a lot of rain. Rain and wind. Bro and I went to Kroger across the street for eggs during the beginning of it, then he went swimming in the ocean to prove he could. Seriously. I was looking forward to something a little more intense, but I'm also glad it wasn't that bad. I can't afford to shell out anymore cash just for the sake of adventure time.

I pretty much spent the whole of Saturday texting David, who I met in Maine. He's a pretty awesome guy. And I checked up on some local friends to make sure everyone was surviving. A lot of people lost power and several had some flooding. I think the way our condos are arranged sheltered us from a lot of the storm. Boy came down from Charlottesville to face down Irene with us. Dawn was pretty safe in her apartment, Tim had a little flooding, and Stacey had her power knocked out. But we were all prepared for it. By the end of the night the family and I were playing Liverpool rummy and having a few drinks. It was pretty nice.

I need to pick up some cereal and peanut butter because I forget to tell my dad to get me some from the grocery store. I keep forgetting.

Anyhow, I was at work until 1:37 this morning like a rockstar being a pissant. That was awesome let me say. Now I'm trying to scheme how to get mom to either get me a gyro from Jenna's Deli or take me to Arby's so I don't have to cook for dinner. My grandma just called to check on my mom before her surgery tomorrow. The next six weeks are going to be hard on her. She's got to recover. But I'm going trot away now, to finish scheming and may rewatch some episodes of TrueBlood.

Laters.

Catching Up

Listening to: Time is Running Out by Muse

So, there I was in an airport, minding my own business when security walks up and asks if I know who left the backpack at the end of the row of chairs unattended. For a solid five minutes there's the vibration of panic and possible chaos in the air as everyone wonders where the gentleman who owns the bag disappeared to. For those five minutes I thought I had just helped some sap get tasered and interrogated by TSA. Turns out he had been outside smoking, received a stern talking to and was left to meander with the other five of us travelers who dared brave the sky at oh-dark-thirty. 

That is pretty much how my trip started. The Twitter version is far more funny because I was high off a lack of sleep and caffeine. I arrived at the airport in Norfolk somewhere around 3:30 in the morning, before the security gates even lifted. It was eerily like the setting of an apocalypse survival flik. Totally worth it to beat the heat and the crowds, however. My planes were practically deserted. 

I arrived at Portland Jetport a bit early, and was greeted with a glomp and a new friend (Chelsie). Emily is just as awesome as I remembered, and has grown into quite the playful beauty. It was warm, which caught me off guard. And so green! Dear lord, so green and lake filled is that state! Maine is gloriously beautiful. I fell in love with it from the air and was not disappointed on the ground. We drove from Portland to Augusta through Freeport, which is a cozy city/town with lots of shopping and is all historical. Their McDonald's is in a two story house! It was so adorably quaint I didn't know what to do with myself.

Also, their L.L. Bean has a giant boot.

We came to Augusta through Hallowell and made it to Game On Cafe, which is my friend's parents' internet cafe/gaming paradise. It was quite something! They have twelve X-Boxes, a PS3, a computer, pool, foosball, a Wii with a projection screen aimed as a sizable chunk of wall and a downstairs area reserved for card games like Magic the Gathering and I believe DnD. We spent a good bit of time there. The food was epic, the atmosphere super comfy and friendly. Even I played some games and we all know how much I suck at them.

I met Garret, the chef at Game On, caught up with Ms. Sue (Emily's mom) and met Kim and Alex. Chelsie was playing Heavy Rain, which is the super devoted video game where you play as specific characters to get through tasks but you have to made all decisions for the characters and your choices could end up killing you. The point of the game is to rescue your son (as one of the characters) from drowning. At this point you've already lost one child to fate (you and your other son were hit by a car and he dies). A serial killer who only strikes when it rains kidnapped your son and is testing your devotion as a father.

It's pretty warped, pretty twisted and we all became engrossed with watching her navigate it. By the time she beat the game we were all ready for some people to die, some people to be saved and a happy ending.

Augusta is a small city and its very historical looking. I loved the way the houses were built and how the wilderness sort of swallowed the place whole from all sides. I could feel the life around us at all times. It was very nice. Where Game On is, you can walk down to the Kennebec River which is apparently home to fish so big they can't swim without scaring the beejezes out of me by jumping from the water. It's also apparently not a 'safe' place to swim as its polluted.

After a short bit, while we were trying to figure out what to do with our lives for the rest of the night, Jaime and David pulled up in her Jeep. They are both very friendly, happy people. It was hard to not be comfortable around them and I instantly was. Once they showed up, our group decided to hit up a local place called Roosters for pizza. Then we discussed maybe visiting and abandoned asylum, but that fell through due to us not wanting to get arrested. We all ended up going to a ghost trail and walking around midnight under a nearly full moon.

Now that was an experience. It was dark, the mud was thick in some places but we mostly managed to avoid it. Apparently, there's an initiation amongst the friends I was with that involved stripping, running through the woods and waiting to pounce on the group from some randomly chosen vantage point. I did not participate. Someone did, but because I didn't ask, I won't tell their name. But it was hilarious and unexpected. We just turned around and they were taking off like a bat out of hell. Good things happen in Maine.

We headed to Emily's after that and David played some Dead Space 2. Chelsie was telling me about the game, as I've never played, and how Isaac tends to die pretty frequently. The Theory of Isaac is that everytime he dies, he cures one of your sins. I fell asleep on a bean bag chair pretty quick, apparently, and woke up just to go upstairs. When we woke up the next morning David still hadn't gone to sleep and was almost done with Dead Space 1 and had beaten 2.

We ended up at Alex's house for her birthday barbeque and a dip in the lake. The food was great. David entertained us on the piano and even played Time is Running out for the girls to sing while I recorded it. He has quite the talent for musical arts, I was very impressed. The music he played was all his own and it was beautiful. I'm envious. And the way those girls sing! So much better than I could hope, haha. It was great. So we pushed Alex's face into her cake, went to the lake and had a swim. Then we went back to Emily's, changed and got ready to go to Applebees for Alex's birthday dinner before the Harry Potter premiere. WHICH WAS AMAZING.

The next day we ended up at Farmington, where Jaime and David stay. I played Left 4 Dead for the first time, and it was very fun. Fucking Tanks and Chargers though. Seriously? Why are they so damn attracted to Ellis? Does he give off a pheromone?

Anyhow, Farmington is a great place. Its small, has a college, and has wonderful shops where I bought a dress and four pairs of shoes for two dollars a piece. So awesome!

I also tried the hookah for the first time ever, and that was neat! The smoke was smoother than cigarettes and way more pleasant than cigars. We had strawberry and pina colada. So, that was cool. Then we all stayed up real late after eating tacos playing truth or dare. Ian, Hillary's boyfriend (she being cousins with Jaime and David), got me with a food dare. Ugh, I hate food dares. I had to eat this atrocity of a layer cake out of a shot glass. It was salsa, peppercinis, peanut butter, maple syrup, strawberry frosting, paprika and something else I think. But by God I didn't back down.

I have flashbacks to that moment. But that's okay. Someone else had to go streaking. There was a lot of body licking. It was a good time. I fell asleep somewhere around four in a chair, woke up at six to go to Dunkin Donuts with David and Preston, went back to bed immediately after. We had to get home decently early for Emily to go to work, I believe. I ended up spending most of the day with her brother Steven. He took me to Hallowell Day and bought me fried dough. We hit up the Wharf, a local bar joint, and had a drink. Later we also went to the Bridge Street Bar (I think its called that) and I had a Mike's Hard Lemonade for I am womanly.

My last full day there we hit up the coast. I guilted David into joining us instead of finishing Dead Space, with puppy dog eyes. Steve drove up and we visited some shops. I bought Sarah, mum, dad and Boy all presents. Then came the lobster. Dear god, the lobster. It was huge! I couldn't even finish my half, honestly. That boy had no issue tearing through his though, like he had something against it personally. It was fantastic! Emily and I stayed up that night talking and sleeping on the couch like old times.

Before I left the next day we went candlepin bowling and ate a lot of junky foods at the bowling alley. I sucked horribly. It was great fun though! And we hit up the little arcade where, for some reason, we all gave our tickets to Emily. A few goodbyes later and I was on my way home. It was an easy flight back.

It was a great trip, totally relaxing and comfortable the whole time. I really enjoyed myself. I'm still excited about it, actually, haha.

Ramen time before work! It's Janette's last Applebees Night, so we're going to party it up! Laters.

Just A Placeholder

I did not bring my laptop with me for this vacation that I'm on, mostly because of room and partially because I honestly did not think I would have time to post anything, so it would be a waste of space. I was right. No time. I've been extraordinarily busy being awesome with one of my dearest friends in the world, and making new ones I hope last for years to come.

So, as a bit of a filler/place holder post to prove I still exist, I'm going to give a clippy overview of what I need to remember to post about in this blog and the other one (which you should all be reading retailisforchampions).

Maine-
Dentons, crazy cats, old cats, older brothers, bars, internet cafe of awesome times, anime fans, new friends, truth or dare and horrible side effects, first lobster, sooooo green, fresh air, piano players (and others with musical talents), Left 4 Dead, Dead Space and The Theory of Isaac, Heavy Rain, hair cut, Farmington, Augusta, Portland, cramped into cars, forever unasleep, food, and uber happiness.

Retail-
Foreigners who can't behave,  children, and something else I don't remember.

Love you guys, I'll be posting again soon I hope. I work the next five days straight, at least. I also have a late night planned on Thursday. But this will happen. Also, Sarah is sick so wish her well. The silly panda.

Laters