(warning: particularly old content) I don't ask for it to make sense RSS feed


First, I promised I would go to bed when the battery on my laptop ran out. I turned out to be completely lying on that one. Then I promised myself that I'd go to bed once I had a working, demo-able (by my definition of demo-able, which is to say, basically perfect) version. That turned out not to be a lie, but it took me until just before now, and let's see, now is approximately 3:30 am. I'm busing in to work tomorrow, and have a 10:00 am meeting, meaning I need to be out the door heading for a bus at 8:40 am. The math here makes me more than a little sad.

I didn't move very far, and my bus commute has not significantly changed (addition of perhaps 5-10 minutes), so I'm startled to find out that I'm really not happy about busing anymore. It frustrates me to either go all the way downtown only to head right back up to Montlake or head straight to Montlake via an extra bus, but the big issue is that those 5-10 minutes added have made the commute crest over the hour mark, and that's just not cool, man. Two buses or three, into downtown or not, bus right in front of my door or a 5 minute walk away, none of it really matters if I'm spending less than an hour getting to work. Which is no longer the case when I'm a good girl and take mass transit.

Carpooling is still fast, though, and how gleeful it is to often have the option!



I like having favors done for me. Today was largely wretched, with a couple stretches of okay, not so terrible, but still not that great. Bleah. And then I had a ride home, and a beer, and some Dirty Jobs, and some curling up, and a few deep breaths, and I'm feeling better. Money stuff should come together a bit soon, job stuff will lighten up after the terror of this week, and all the other odds and ends will get sorted, I am promising myself. And in the meantime I've got some sunshine and that's pretty effing sweet.

I've been particularly fond of "effing" lately, for no apparent reason. I'm not editing any other cusswords, and "fuck" is still in heavy rotation.

Because I know the collective few faceless you care.



Saying I'll get something done and then not doing it: seems to be the theme of the fucking month.

I'm freaking the fuck out. I need time, I need money, I need those two things to not be so damn needed all at the same time because I can't fucking breathe I feel so squashed between them across the board. I need people off my back, I need to solve my own problems without having to help other people with theirs or be pushed to solve mine in ways I just don't want to or can't for some reason, I need to have everything just SLOW DOWN.

Stupid fucking hormones. It's 2:30 am and I'm wired and I'm an inch away from crying and I'm terrified and I'm completely paralyzed by the enormity of all the shit that's scaring the crap out of me.


Focus on the comfort of the snoring and the purring. I'm trying, here.



Time has been flying by; my schedule has totally flown out the window and I haven't figured out how to get it all to work together yet. This is in no way a bad thing. In fact, it's pretty damn awesome.


Drinking, hanging out, seeing In Bruges (which I liked, but felt better about once Jeffie reminded me that the writer was a playwright), drinking some more, and playing board games was most of the weekend, and lo, it was good. The cherry on the top was having Emily show up this evening to crash in my guest room for the week, as she's starting a job at MS tomorrow but doesn't have actual housing coming together until this next weekend. I am way entertained at actually having a guest room to offer out, after a year and a half of having no more space than just barely I could use, for one thing, and I definitely love being able to do things for people, but most of all, seeing Emily after, what, three years? Awesome. She's fantastic and brilliant and adorable, and makes me happy by her very presence. Plus it was amusing to officially verbally catch up, after playing blog tag for the last several years (you're it!).

And now I'm curled up in my bed watching Project Runway. Oh Tivo, I'd missed you so!

My goal for this week: stop dropping the /tht/ ball. I've been terrible!



Jeff and I went over to play board games with Colin's gaming group tonight. There were several people there (15 about), which was overwhelming, particularly as I'd not actually met Colin in person before, but Jeffie and I almost immediately got funneled into a side room with only three strangers, so I had time to equilibriate. We had fun playing Ticket to Ride, Pandemic, and Tsuro for three hours; I'm not sure I'd want to play Ticket to Ride again, as the delay between obtaining resources and using them drove me nuts, but Pandemic would be fun to play one more time with some knowledge of how to play (and with a good group of cooperative players), and Tsuro was totally amusing and I wanted to play it again and again. And again. I will go over to Colin's for board gaming again; perhaps not regularly, but definitely again.

Heh. Colin asked who Jeff was and said we seemed "couplish." I had to admit that our couplish behavior is a semi-intentional armor that is convenient to employ when we meet new people; we can then peel the armor away as we see fit. Because axe murderers are totally warded off by couplish behavior. C'mon, it works.

In other news, Dave is a big fat liar. Which I knew already, and, let's be honest, is part of his charm. But three valentines, dear, three? My revenge will have to be swift and furious. Or forgotten, because I'm not particularly the vengeful sort. And pleading "not guilty by reason of it was *really* funny" won you points.



(face in hands) So it turns out I had not one, but three singing Valentines sic'd on me last week. And only one of them gave up and sang into my voicemail. The other two hunted me down on Friday and sang to me in my office as half my hallway crowded around and I laughed in embarrassment until I couldn't breathe.

And John having sworn it wasn't him, I remain completely in the dark about my mysterious "admirer."

My weekend was pretty awesome, and was spent companionably doing not a lot of anything. But. But.. There are two more TVs hooked up in my house now; my living room feels like an actual room, and my bedroom has, glory be, media possibilities. HOORAY.



My money is on it having been you, John. If it wasn't, I'm stumped; everyone else likely has believably sworn it wasn't them.

What, you may ask?

I wildly overslept this morning, so I decided to just eat my breakfast (aka lunch) and catch up on the internets before heading into work. I was interested to read Raymond Chen's post about Valentine's Day singers; I'd managed to never hear about this business before, but then I was distracted by the rest of the internet and my excellent leftover enchilada.

When I walked into my office at midday, there was... stuff... on my desk. A red carnation. A pink bag with some candy inside. An envelope very clearly labeled with my first and last name and my building/office number. The valentine inside was signed "Love, Gary." Considering that I know exactly zero people named Gary, and that the one person who may have been marginally likely to drop something at my desk had been informed of my lack of particular interest in v-day shenaniganery, I was wildly confused. This confusion was only increased by the fact that when I checked my mail, I had a very long voicemail waiting for me. Now, it's common knowledge that I hate the phone, so me having any voicemail at all is bizarre, much less an obviously long message. With my standard trepidation (voicemails just never seem to be good), I queued it up on my phone.

And then my eyes bugged out of my head as several people yelled into the phone that they were sorry that they'd missed me, but they were going to sing at the top of their lungs to me anyway. Specifically, Happy Together, which has accordingly been running through my head alllll day (head in hands).

Later on in the day, I had a scare thinking that maybe they'd not given up on finding me and serenading me in person, but thankfully I managed to dodge the bullet. And the word on the street is that the stuff on my desk came from, and was arbitrarily signed by, the singers. So the mystery bits are tied together, and I managed to avoid complete mortification (I would curl up and DIE), but I've still not ferreted out who decided to try to murder me by way of sheer embarrassment.

As I said, John, you're Suspect Number One.

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you
For all my life
When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue
For all my life

Me and you and you and me
No matter how they toss the dice, it has to be
The only one for me is you, and you for me
So happy togetherrrrrrrr!


Think   2 Thoughts


(droop) I need to work on getting more sleep. This whole not-enough-sleep thing is not particularly conducive to Project Be Less Stressed and Depressed. If only I could convince my body and mind to drop off earlier, and people to stop scheduling me for meetings in the mornings...

Ah, but if wishes were horses...



Distracted Jen is very distracted. Can you offer a bunny with a pancake on its head just because you have nothing to contribute?



Little known fact about Jen #853: I have a deep and abiding obsession with reading Wikipedia's Talk: pages. It's completely absorbing Internet drama crack. I knew I had a problem the day that I realized I was trying to think of a topic to look up on Wikipedia based purely on how entertaining I predicted the discussion page would be.

Going to a caucus for the first time today was complete madness: the guy running my caucus site said it was the biggest turnout he'd seen in thirty years of caucusing there. Mama, who called me as I was on my way over, was beyond astounded that I was actually going. Flabbergasted.

Really, so was I. I still am.

Think   1 Thought


Bubble, bubble, boil and... no trouble, just more bubbling. So much more bubbling than I would have thought. It's nice to bubble.

Two things were noteworthy about the doctor visit on Monday (well, three, counting the one where they don't think I'm going down the bronchitis/pneumonia road, which is pretty important). One: my coworkers and grandparents are not insane. I have indeed been losing weight like a crazy motherfucker. I don't have a scale in my house, and try not to think about such things, but apparently I've dropped almost 17 lb since August. I don't have a parasite; it's just all stress and depression. Which is bad. On the other hand, I rather like where I've ended up, so I'll be trying to not melt away any more and maintain the status quo. Mission: Less Stress and Depression should begin now. Two: my new inhaler has a dosage counter. It's so full of technology, I feel like it's the goddamned future!

In other news, I was undecided most of this week, but something about tonight, over the course of several hours, seems to have brought it all together. I'm actually planning on going and caucasing for Obama on Saturday. And here's a random link: Yes We Can, via Jim tonight. It makes me well up, in a good way; I'm somewhat shocked, as I've mostly avoided caring about politics in any sort of actionable way for my entire life! It's pure madness.



Well, well, well. Isn't this an interesting turn?

Also, I didn't actually upload Sunday's post. I know everyone was just destroyed.

Think   1 Thought


I give this weekend a gold star. I slept tons and bunches and bushels. My cough massively reduced (still going to the doctor tomorrow, but at this point it's mostly to get a new inhaler prescription). I got to go read The Stranger over actual coffee instead of orange juice, and there were cute boys at the coffee shop to boot. We put on a massive full-house-population effort to rehang all doors, reaffix all faceplates, and unpack and set up my kitchen. I made mac-and-cheese-from-scratch and the Fool made steak for a celebratory dinner using my new badass gas oven/range. I went with several friends to see Cloverfield (pfft, who needs the Super Bowl), which I think was a nice little monster movie... even if I'm still a little motion sick several hours later. I even finished up some work stuff that I'd not gotten to on Friday.

Not trying to be too optimistic here, as I'm still mighty stressed out and outright depressed about several things, but I could see this as a turning point weekend. Lord knows I need one.



A day spent at home working on documentation and napping, and I feel relatively human. Except for the part where I cough and my airways close up when I try to laugh. Or really just when I try to breathe.

Stupid, stupid asthma.