By popular demand: quick pigtails picture. It's not the best picture (it's dark, at a funny angle, and I'm not smiling), but about as good as I could get with Jasper in full OMGPAYATTENTIONTOMEOMGOMG!!!1! mode.
There is a high likelihood that I will wear pigtails to work tomorrow. I am both amused and irritated.
I'm completely wonky today, and have been very remiss in some things I shouldn't have been remiss on. My wonkiness comes very directly from stress, stress than kept me up nearly all night last night. I tossed and turned and started awake, terrified that I was late for something, that I was in trouble for something, that I'd forgotten something. From 1 until 3:30, I kicked the covers and the monster trio around, my heart racing, tears over the awful snippets of anxiety dreams squeezing into my 5 minutes of sleep here and there spiralling down to my pillow. I managed to get in a solid hour or so of sleep before I bolted awake, crying out, a little bit before 5 am. And then I was back to the tossing around until I got up around 6:15. Sigh. To add insult to injury, I'd left my coffee cup / travel mug / whatever the term is at work on Friday, so I rode the bus into work today both spazzed out from lack of sleep and caffeineless. Not the way to start off a productive day (sigh).
Oh, goodness. My hair is far far far shorter than I wanted it to be. This is the biggest problem with not being able to see without my glasses; there is nearly no way for me to tell while getting a haircut that the person has interpreted "an inch or two below shoulder line" to mean "just barely brushing shoulders... in the longer spots" until the damage is complete. So, here we go:
Thank goodness hair grows back.
Another "off" Saturday... last pints nights are dangerous. But despite my delicateness and my late night, I managed to have a quite good day; the boys (being Ken, Jeff, Jeff H, and Seth) and I went out to see Underworld: Evolution. It wasn't NEARLY as bad as I thought it'd be, and the latter half was downright entertaining. Blood and guns and werewolves and vampires... what can I say? I'm easy to please. Dinner at Claim Jumper, and Unleashed over at Jeff H's place (it was a very different movie than I thought it was, but I liked it) a full evening made. Now to curl up with my fire and finish flushing toxins out of my system.
Not much to say other than the fact that I have to be in tomorrow to be on a phone call and that's freaking me directly the fuck out. And that I miss Brandon. Sigh.
My day went from acceptable to wretched and right 'round again. Awful mood as I drove home was mitigated, completely to my surprise, by the radio (C89 and The End both) delighting me. In short order, I heard the M.I.A. Supergalangalang Super Mario Brothers nuttiness, which I adore for no reason I can fathom, MC Lars's too frigging cute Hot Topic is Not Punk Rock, the beautiful Deep Dish remix of Stevie Nicks doing Dreams, and the too catchy for it's own damn good new Franz Ferdinand single, The Fallen. Obviously, I was meant to sort away my bad mood by going through music, and a sizable chunk of what I received for my birthday has now been organized and filed away... I am serene.
Of course, at some point this evening I took off my earrings, and didn't put them in any of the places I normally would. If the kittens ate them, I will be displeased.
I'd just like to say: I grew up in this damn city, and I've NEVER been a fan of the Seahawks, and I don't intend to become one now. If another person babbles to me about football, I may just smack them.
I might also just be taking out my rage and stress about work the past full week, too. I really probably couldn't tell in the event of the smacking, now that I think about it.
Jen-log, 2006 January 22: First day carrying this girl-object known as a "purse." Officially very weird.
In lieu of anything else, because I really should get to bed, I offer up this snippet of phone conversation from yesterday:
Me: So, I'm calling with a random question.
Me: What is "crunk" music and who counts as a "crunk" artist?
Fool: (extended explanation amid much laughter)
Me: Okay, I think I got it. Thanks for satisfying the curiousity, dude.
Fool: And thank you for the whitest question of the day! (more laughter)
(rubbing head) Hoooooo. Well, well, well, did I get a bit tipsy last night. Note to self: if one will be drinking lots, one should remember to do things like eat dinner. Just saying.
Hell may apparently now freeze over, seeing as I bought something resembling a purse yesterday—it's all downhill from here. It's small, but just large enough to hold a paperback novel for bus rides; its original strap was quite short, but I cannibalized some nylon webbing to remedy that problem. I'm a little horrified at it, truly. I sat on my bed, staring at it, for several minutes, trying to imagine myself carrying it on a daily basis, wondering if I'd move away from carrying my wallet, if using a bag like this would strip me of some of my essential... me-ness. But I'm relieved to have something to put my things into this coming summer, seeing as I no longer carry my backpack; my theory is that by then, I might actually be comfortable with the idea. Maybe.
I have convinced myself to work from home much of tomorrow. Jeff is taking the day off, and the prospect of finishing up my reports and next week's prep work from the couch watching Deadwood with him proved far too tempting. Plus, just in general, I think it'd be good for me to take this nod towards taking it slightly easy at the moment at work. I have a vacation to Hawai'i coming up in a few weeks, which I think I sorely need... things like working from the couch tomorrow with kittens in my lap will help me get there.
Despite not getting to sleep last night until after 3 am, and not sleeping well once I'd gotten that far, I feel much better tonight. Today was a strain, and I left work as soon as possible, which was a very good decision (quote of the day, Monica in the hall as I fled, late, to a meeting: "GAWD, you look stressed"). Jeff stopped at the store on his way home to procure dinner makings, and for the first time in about three days, I'm actually in a reasonably good mood. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, asparagus, a beer, and hours of mellow hanging out in front of the TV did me goddamn wonders.
Well, that and getting a supportive email today about work stuff from one of my core contacts. And leaving a meeting with him and his writer this afternoon to her saying, "man, working with loc is being awesome, I love this!" and him going "yeah, we love Jen!" That helped too.
Damn, damn, double and TRIPLE damn.
Six and a half years go by, and I'm still the same horrible goddamn person I was. I still know when something's wrong, and I still lie to myself and tell myself that everything's okay, even when it isn't, and hurt people who I could have avoided hurting, never learning a goddamn fucking thing about how to be a proper human being.
I need to just go and fucking die.
Conundrum. Lie? <P>Had a fine day, am tired and going to sleep.</P>? Post to /tht/ what really goes through my head, risking being seen as a drama queen, a whiner, an exaggerator? Abstain, risking being seen as a grandstander, a pathetic provokeur of worry? I suppose in fairness I can at least make clear that those are the options I see.
Jasper is throwing himself desperately at me, lunging to throw his paws about my shoulders, purring and wrapping one paw around my neck as he licks my cheek and rubs his forehead on my chin.
I would have tried harder, if I would have really cared.
Well. I was apparently much more distressed than I thought I was. I woke up out of sorts and tense, and by 11:30 this morning I was out kicking the wall of my building and then taking a long coatless walk in the drizzle and wind to calm down. I thought I'd pulled everything together once I got back to my office and closed the door, but lost it the moment Dan knocked to call lunch. One downside to the shared office; if it was just me, I'd have closed the door and worked in solitary, but poor Eva came in as I was still reassembling, and I just couldn't bear to stay there and bug her or have her worry about me. So I drove home with angry tears on my cheeks and worked (to a degree, given that I had to fight with networking problems) from here. Took until evening to really work out the upset, but spanokopitas, fettucini pizza (I shit the Internet not, and it was surprisingly delicious), and four episodes of Deadwood with Jeff seem to have smoothed me out.
Here's to a better Tuesday than Monday.
Somewhere along the course of my evening, I managed to get myself well and truly mopey. Not full-blown depressed, exactly, but definitely feeling more than reasonably sad. I'm not certain what triggered it... there are a variety of possible culprits, ranging the gamut from the particulars of my current isolation, to having spent time with Mom today, to unease about confessing to Jeff this afternoon that I might want to move, to distress about my weight, to stress around the upcoming work week.
I still haven't written about the year of earrings, even though I've been meaning to for nearly a month now.
Some time later, I feel prompted to follow up on an item above. Now that I've "outed" the issue of moving, I suppose I should really make myself verbalize what's going on in my head around it, as I'm feeling quite torn about the whole thing.
First, the reasons I would like to move back down into Seattle:
- I despise my commute
- I've learned that I really dislike living in the middle of strip mall hell
- I hate the fact that buses up here suck
- I don't like living so far away from everyone I know except for Jeff
- I find I'm unwilling to stay out late, particularly drinking, because I have such a long drive home with no bus option
Second, the reasons for not moving:
- I adore living with Jeff
- My rent here is really cheap, even considering that I do pay 100% of our utilities and cable
- Our place is really really sweet
- I'd feel a lot of guilt about possibly causing Jeff financial difficulty
- I've moved so many times in the last few years that I really don't want to deal with it again any time soon
And finally, the considerations:
- After the last eight years of living with roommates, I am unwilling to live with people who don't fit a very specific set of criteria, but I hate the idea of living by myself
- There's no way I could be happy in another apartment after living in this place, so if I moved, I'd want a house
- Finding nice places to live that allow cats is hard
- I want to live on a good frequent busline either direct to work or within one simple transfer; same for a busline to downtown, U-Dis, or Capital Hill (ideally all three)
- I want to live within walking distance an actual neighborhood's amenities, ideally including somewhere to eat, a grocery store, a bar, and a coffeeshop
Even if I really did decide to move (number one biggest blocker right now is how little I want to live by myself, number two is how much I absolutely love living with Jeff), my list of considerations makes things quite difficult... But, as has been pointed out to me, given that there's no time pressure to move, I can wait until I find a place that's just right. Really, obsessing over the idea of exactly what sort of area I'd like to live in, or how nice I'd like my kitchen to be, is just a way of distracting myself from the tension between my reasons for staying and my reasons for moving. Of course I could eventually find the right sort of place... I'd just need to commit to actually moving, first.
Didn't write anything yesterday... not that anyone would know, given that I can't update at the moment, heh.
Spent a good day out with Kelly, even if it was for a reason that was less than best, and not only got to finally give her the book I've been holding for her, but also found a lovely present for her as we were out. All I would have really asked for in addition would have been for it to not be quite so damn wet outside.
Now, it's 3 am and Micah is leaning on my arm hard, purring; Aggie's been curled up at my knee, fast asleep, for some time. So I will close out this prosiac entry here, with the fruits of my labor of the last few hours: I found the pictures I took in Ireland last summer.
SSH on Zoggins appears to be fooked, so no uploading for me at the moment, apparently. Poop.
I swam for only twenty minutes today. I was not tired when I stopped; no, I quit early for a far more ridiculous reason... I suddenly became overwhelmingly self-conscious about the way that I swim, so much so that I rather freaked out and just had to leave. See, I never learned how to swim "properly;" I use something close to a sidestroke, I suppose, but my sense of myself doing it is even less elegant than the inelegance that is a well done sidestroke. Most days I try really hard to not think about it, but I was on edge about it for some reason tonight even before out of all lanes he could have chosen to share, a boy climbed into mine and started doing his own (impeccable) sidestroke. Somehow, that just put me over the edge (including paranoid worrying about what it might mean if he'd chosen that stroke just because I was doing it) and I had to bolt.
Plus I scraped the knuckles of my toes and they hurt. Heh.
Several beers over the course of the night make Jen a sleepy girl. So any mention of seeing people for dinner, or stressy day at work, or evening spent companionably hanging out, will wait.
And may I say, DAMN the poltergeists that control the lighting in my place.
Being a social creature who doesn't like to lie keeps me from returning to anorexia. It's a useful defense against an eating disorder, I suppose.
I am highly driven, more so than many people I know, to "fit" inside social structures that I see around me. Any action I might take that would cause me to be marked as an outsider to the structure goes through a very strict triage process; for this reason, only very, very rarely will I act in a way that might cause me to be singled out as anything other than a productive, funny, insert-appropriate-positive-attribute-here member of a group. By way of a long chain of history that I won't detail here, one of the things that would trigger my fears about being remarked upon would be to be absent from lunch runs (long predates my current job). Another would be to, in an assembled group, shift back into my old anorexic eating habits. The combination of these two behaviors that I feel incredibly socially compelled to avoid, along with my intense dislike of lying (the idea of repeatedly telling my co-workers, if they asked, that "I'd just eaten" or "I'm going out for food later," when such is completely untrue, just doesn't work for me, and in fact Brandon's repeated inquiries about whether I'd eaten lately were key in keeping things at bay for the two years we lived together), result in my continuing, every day, to eat a reasonable lunch.
And now for a sideline, a disclaimer paragraph that should be read in exact parallel with the one preceeding:
Said social structures, as well as how people should fit within them, are often arbitrary creations of my own mind, but knowing that doesn't really affect anything. The process of defining to myself what might cause me to be marked as an outsider is complicated and really, in the end, just as arbitrary as the structure itself often is. Not to mention that the whole being marked as an outsider doesn't necessarily have anything to do with people actually rejecting me, but with my own perception of that happening and fear that it might.
All of this comes to mind tonight because it's so very easy, when I'm alone, stripped away from societal buttresses, to slip back into things. I readily admit, in moments such as now when I'm feeling up to trying to explain things, that one factor long driving me to avoid living alone is that smug bitch part of me that developed in the last, oh, five years or so, to keep me from doing things that would harm me (such as subsisting for three months on a few wheat thins a day, JUST AS AN EXAMPLE). It's exactly that part of me that tries to make sure that I go to lunch with people so that I'll feel compelled by their presences to eat.
I can't really decide if I think that these manipulative behaviors of mine are completely stupid or not. If I were actually a good person, my self-worth reasoning goes, I'd just be able to maintain myself in healthy behaviors without resorting to manipulating stupid external pressures (the fact that I am not this "good" person—and oh yes, I know that it's a pretty ridiculous method of measuring self-worth, but that doesn't matter a whit—is a huge facet of my depression). On the other hand, my manipulations of environment to keep myself in line (a great hilarity being that, of course, this very /tht/ entry is one such manipulation) do tend to keep me from harmful behaviors and have for several years now. If I can't take care of myself purely from within, is it wrong (and really, we're talking about me not being a worthwhile person when I say "wrong") to manipulate external forces to coerce myself to stay in line? I'm ambivalent.
Mostly unrelated: I went swimming again this evening. I wish I were better at it, both technically and athletically , but some exercise, particularly exercise that I enjoy, is much better than none at all.
Stayed home sick from work today. I didn't sleep at all well last night, complete with distressing dreams and long periods awake; Jasper got sick outside my room around 4 am and I never really fell back asleep afterwards. When I get that little and that bad of sleep, I end up nauseous and weak in the morning, a condition which would be bad enough if I were a hop, skip, and a jump away from my desk but moves into really just unworkable when I'd have to drive a long distance (as driving when nauseous just really doesn't help anything). After a brief attempt at getting up, I threw up my internal hands and crawled back into bed to sleep until I didn't feel like tossing my cookies all over the place anymore. As a result, my day was very quiet; Jeff got home around 5:45 and the two of us just hung out for the evening (granted, we did have waffles and sausage for dinner, and play Scrabble, both events that are highly awesome). Perhaps a little more like my Sunday should have been.
The cats' different reactions to the vacuum cleaner never fail to amuse me. The boys immediately run away and hide, but Aggie follows me around the entire house. She stays just outside of what she judges the vacuum's range to be; if I move it towards her, she dances gently back and then sits back down to watch. Every now and then, she stalks the power cord, but mostly, she just stays near and watches. Not for nothing did I name her Aggie the Bold when first she arrived in the house, but I do wonder what goes through her mind as she watches so carefully.
Jasper has developed a new behavior in the last few weeks: hugging. From my lap, or from the counter if I'm standing, he stands up to put an arm on either side of my neck, and presses his forehead tightly against my chin or my cheek, purring. Destroys me utterly every single time. He doesn't do it all the time; mornings when I get out of the shower and any time I finish vacuuming seem to be the trigger points. I fancy that he does it for comfort, when he's been frightened by the Vacuum Beast, or knows that I'm soon to leave for the day... but for all I know, that's when I smell most like something edible.
I've managed to go and get myself majorly upset and depressed. In lieu of bothering anyone with it, I'll offer up a cute cat picture and just go brood. Aggie knows what the computer on top of the fridge is best used for.
What was shaping up to be a completely shitty day from the very outset turned much better when Ryan offered to come up tonight to visit the cats, play Scrabble, and drink beer. I lost both games (by stupid margins: 2 points and 11 points), but I got to spell "orgy," "roan," and "ascot," among other good words, so really, I can't complain. Plus someone actually came up to visit me! It's been months since the last time that happened. That he brought two unordinary beers (a Delerium Noel and a homebrew brandywine) to share just made everything even better.
Work was stressful and traffic was awful today; by the time I got home, an hour and fifteen after I'd left work, I just couldn't keep shit together enough to game. Thank goodness Ken and Seth were down with just hanging out and googling for funny cosplay pictures, sigh. I really need to make a better effort towards leaving work early and coming home unstressed and in a good mood on gaming nights, because trying to roleplay in the sort of condition I came home in tonight is a completely lost cause.
People at work got their official copies of Windows XPN today. I did not get one (nor a ship award for it), as I was not an actual Microsoft employee for that project. S brought his box in to show me and Eva this afternoon, and many jokes were made about the whole thing. When I joked something about not getting anything to show for all my work on XPN, though, S shook his head at me very seriously. "Jen," he pointed out, "you got your job."
I hadn't thought about it like that. Damn right I got my job!
(giggle) Even if "Jen is to XPN as S is to HSC" (giggle).
I have moved into being officially worried about my cough. For weeks now, it's not been productive except when I first wake up; it seems to do nothing more than make my throat ache. I can't tell if my asthma is making it worse or if it's being worsened by my asthma... tonight, I moved my inhaler to be within reach of my bed. Last night, I woke coughing so hard I ran out of air, a situation in which it was extremely difficult to get out of bed and fumble in the dark on my dresser. I have a doctor's appointment on Friday, but it's hard to not fret in the meantime, considering I've had the cough since I was sick in early December. I'm heartily tired of it. And not being able to breathe.
Jeffie watched Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events with me tonight, though, which mostly made me not mind the cough. When last I'd watched it, I'd been mostly without sight, so it was a great pleasure to actually be able to see everything clearly. Plus I'd not had the silly joy of going through DVD special features in... a long time. I always used to watch them, before a year ago. (shaking head) ANYWAY, I love the movie in that delicious Princess Bride sort of ridiculous way and now I'm going to try to find a position to sleep in that doesn't cause my lungs to reject air in violent bursts, good night, sirs!
Chlorine makes my eyes tired and sleepy just like crying does. When the episode of Numb3rs I'm watching (which is not particularly good, as is standard for an episode of Numb3rs) is over, I think I will, hopefully, be able to sleep.
I swam for about thirty minutes today, up from twenty five. I think the next time I go, I'll swim for thirty again but try to pay attention how many laps I do so that I can try to work on that aspect of things. I swim so painfully slow. Well, not painful for me, but compared to normal... yeah. I wish my body worked better.
Bizarre pet note of the evening: Micah frigging loves chlorine residue. He nuzzles in very insistently and tries to eat and lick my hair like mad when I come home via the pool. Weirdo kitty.
Carina got me to go with her to get a pedicure again. This time I figured, what the hell, might as well go girly as all get out. So pink nail polish and jeweled flowers it is! Of course, given that it's winter, I can't show off my girly toes in sandals... but on the Internet, it's always summer!
Tried to watch The Life Aquatic with my mother tonight, but it happened to be my first Netflix dud (sad face) and refused to play past the first forty minutes. We assuaged our disappointment by watching another episode of Firefly (she's now watched through "Ariel" and continues to adore it with a fierce passion), but it was still something of a bummer. Not least because it means that I feel compelled to get another copy and show up there to finish watching it, just when I thought my holiday season duties to spend time with my folks had been executed. I do have to give my dad some credit, though, for helping me exchange a gift downtown tonight and finally, after six months, coming up north to see my place 'o residence and meet my cats. I was starting to think he'd never put in the effort.
In celebration of the renewed symmetry of the /tht/ navbars, I'll actually roll over on the proper date for once.
My place is considerably neater than it was several hours ago. I didn't vacuum, but a plethora of things that needed to be done (including finally hanging the clocks that have been sitting on the kitchen counter since we moved in in June) have gotten done, and that has to count for something. And despite having a strong desire to not have to change out of my sweats today, I got dressed and walked down to the store (a 20 minute walk, it turns out) in the dark and the drizzle. I managed to forget to buy asparagus, the thing I'd originally headed out for, but I did collect the fixings for my favorite quick curry. Sometimes, the delicious genius of the most simple recipes frigging blows me away.
I must admit that in the grand scheme of all things home-ish, my least favorite thing, by far, is making the bed. But when it gets done, it sure is nice. And man oh man does that picture remind me that I need to frame up my posters and get them hung. My walls are prettily colored, but depressingly bare (for those curious at home, the facing walls are matching colors: purple across from purple, blue across from blue... our place is pretty).
Because I was insomniac, I decided to fiddle with the /tht/ commenting system. I think it works, but then again, it's 3 am and I might have my head stuck completely up my ass. Next step might be to make it so that people would be emailed if a comment was added to something they'd commented on... Threading, on the other hand, is probably way more effort than I'd be willing to put in.