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.