ravenswept: (Default)
Thirty-six days (according to my very un-updated security) after travelling some 3,900 miles and change, I once again have my computer in working condition! Wow was that awkward.

All I can say is, thank god I have a smart phone, because otherwise I would have been totally cut off (unless, you know, I decided to go to the library or something... but still!) from the internet world. And that would suck, because I have quite a few people (and one special one) that I really wanted to be able to keep in contact with (...actually, thinking about it (and not counting Facebook) I really only kept up with the one. Hmm, how telling).

Long story short, on the third night of the four day trip (the last time I wrote anything, ironically), my computer crapped out on me in the middle of the night. Wouldn't turn on (and had been left on to recharge ipod), wouldn't flinch, nothing. Get to Virginia, have to wait a weekend to get my computer in (it was the 4th weekend, things got busy), have to wait more than the 5-7 business days they said it'd take to even confirm my computer got shipped to Kentucky (the wonders of looking up area codes when you get strange phone calls) and yada yada yada, turns out my battery was kaput and the charger wasn't so hot either, so both got replaced. Finally.

I just turned it back on last night; never got to actually use it. It really needed to be updated and resecured, so several hours were spent today and yesterday just updating things. I say hours because my computer is several, several years old and likes to stop uploading things if they take too long, which some 214 MB of back up updates were taking. Being a tad slow in the first place didn't help either.

And while my phone does a lot, there was limit to how interactive I was on it. A phone may be able to do a hellovalot nowadays, but that doesn't mean your eyes won't cross and your hands ache after so long.

Here's the rundown:

  • Email - controlled with phone
  • Webcomic list - back logged, month behind (yes I care about that)
  • Deviant account - the doozy; over 1200 art pieces, 250 messages, and 300 combined whatevers unseen
  • Journal account - dusty, with a hint of mildew; much to catch up on

Basically, I'm overwhelmed by how much I see, hear and do on the computer.

I do plan on jumping back on board, but it's going to take me a bit to get through everything else, on top of RL work and stuff as well. I feel like I broke my leg and have to work back up to running speed ability again.

Also, the one spot in the basement that gave me free wireless seems to have disappeared. Wonderful.
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I am currently in Indiana, about fifty miles from Indianapolis. My god this is a long and boring trip.

Driving it suuuuucks. And of course it's freaking hot as hell. It's one in the morning and still above 70o.

One more day and I'll be in Virginia, so I'll catch up on everything there... well as much as I can. I have the 30 Days to restart, so that'll be one thing (amongst many).
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I am not dead! Though moving all these boxes of books may soon correct that. Unfortunately, due moving and packing and all that nonsense, I cannot keep up (HA!) with the Flash Fiction Meme that I myself started. Way to show a good example.

So, since the month is pretty much up anyway, I'm going to just call it null for the moment. I'm not giving up, just waiting. I'll restart the meme next month, on the first of July, and hopefully be able to finish it this time. And I do mean start over, the first, what, eight days I've already done will be REdone. Because I want to make it up to you. The one person who might actually be reading this. I like you. Don't leave me alone... it's so cold.

Yeah, that's the plan. On top of a bunch of posts I want to catch up on, life, writing I really need to get on, and moving. Hurray for standards not being kept!
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Quick hit: I am SOOOOO far behind on the 30 Day meme, but I started it the month I forgot I had to travel to my parent's place for my sister's graduation. That by itself isn't much, but they have crap for internet out here. Too slow for anything decent.

And I've been busy.

Burning a pig in an inferno (it makes sense in context).

And the next few weeks look to be busy too. But I'll catch up on the meme and everything else as soon as I can.

Bull y/ied

Mar. 17th, 2011 04:45 pm
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The lastest and fadest fad on the internet at the moment is this little gem:

[Imagine there's a Youtube video here, showing a scrawny little chickenshit bully punching a much larger and taller boy in the face and stomach after pushing him against a wall while his unseen friends egg him on, the larger kid doing nothing noticible and taking the punches, the beanpole dancing around on his feet as he gets more into in it as the big kid starts to deflect the punches, and then the big kid fights back, overwhelming the skinny snot, bear hugging him and pile-driving him down on his twiggy little head, the big kid walking away immediately having stopped his bully, and the turd-rail shakily and very wobbily getting to his feet and falling over with almost every step; I'd post another video, but I'd get tired of trying to re-embed a new vid everytime Youtube takes it down over "policy violation"]

Also known now as the "Zangief Kid", Casey Haynes kicked a bully's ass. Hopefully this video stays up a while, Youtube seems to be cracking down on how viral this thing went and taking them down.

The story and details surrounding it are now fairly easy to come by; Haynes, a sixteen-year old Australian school student, had been picked on and bullied for years prior to this incident. The bully in question, Richard Gale, is twelve-years old and maybe a third of Haynes weight and several inches shorter. So that says a lot to how down-trodden Haynes had been to let some little prick of a twig punch him in the face and stomach and not do anything; until he did.

Everyone loves a victim who stands up for themselves; expect those in authority )
ravenswept: (Default)
And now allow me to immediately backtrack from that statement. I do understand the mechanics behind getting shitfaced. Also, I'm not a prude in any way, I do drink myself, though not heavily or very often. I've never said to myself, "I'm bored; well, might as well go drink until I confuse the ceiling with the floor." Nor have I gone out with the intention of drinking until I no longer could get myself home without assistance.

But what I don't understand is people who, knowingly, let themselves get to that point. Who say, "Ima gonna get crunk!" and then proceed to do so. I get what it does; you lose hard control of your senses, so everything is muddled and "awesome", at least until it catches up with you and becomes "less awesome". To the point of being sick; actually past that point, to the point of bad hangover. Why do that to yourself? Personally, I hate that feeling of not being in control of my senses. Almost as soon as I realize my vision is starting to motion-blur on me, I cut myself off and hit the water (or soda). Because I don't want to be "that guy" who can't stand up or walk straight. When the bar cuts you off and security mans the bathroom while you find religion and worship at the porcilien alter, you're bad.

I do make allowances for people who are having a legitimately good time and just get carried away. Having fun can get away from you, so I'm not condemning all who get drunk sometimes. It's the one's who make it a goal.

What brings this all to mind is, I went to a bar last night. Strange for me, since I normally don't really do the bar scene. At all. The only bar I wish to frequent as often as I do is not so much a "bar" as it is an video arcade that sells booze after a certain hour.

Back to storytime, it was my roommate's sister's birthday. She came down from hometown to party it up Portland style, and brought with her one girlfriend and two other friends, also girls. Roommate had his boyfriend. I had myself, but I'm used to it and it wasn't a big deal. The party started around 4:30 or so, mainly just a lot of joking, telling stories, roommate and sister being hilarious when together, and vegan pizza. Also, four bottles of wine was downed. Around 8 or so we all headed down to the Sunday night drag show at the big gay bar in town, because nothing says "Happy Birthday Sis" than watching drag-queen after drag-queen lip-sync to songs you've only heard on classic lite-rock and soundtracks of 70's and 80's movies.

Really, it wasn't that bad as I make it sound; some of them are talented at what they do, and when they stopped singing and did some standup routines it was freaking hilarious. There was really only one who didn't seem all that into it, maybe she'd been doing it too long to care any more and it was routine for her at this point, since her only move was "slutty deep knee-bend step" back and forth while you watched her mouth move but never felt the voice you heard could maybe be coming from her. At least the good ones put energy behind it, or just sometimes forgo the whole thing to let out a queeny insult or two at the audience. And then there was a small bit by some actors from group doing a play called "Mommy Queerest"; yes, it's exactly what you think it is. And it includes a song, song for the locals, called "All That Jiz", a nice little parody from the Chicago songtrack. Good fun.

Being the drag show was at a bar, drinks were to be had. I had all mine bought for me; not because I'm good at getting then, but because I be poor, and the group I was with was cool like that (and didn't at all want to see me "loosened up" after learning I didn't drink often). I took my time, really making all three last me a while, while the others really went at it; not shot-after-shot or nonstop, but they didn't stay dry long. I was given keys pretty early in the night, since I was most likely going to be the only one drivable.

The night was fun, the girls had a hoot shoving ones down the cleavages of the drag queens, and drinks were drank. Sister, who's birthday it was, seemed to finally run out of fun; she really slowed down and was quiet and leaning against her girlfriend's shoulder for a bit. Then she disappeared to the bathroom. For a while. Yeah, when your girlfriend comes back looking for her brother with a no-joking face on, you know the night's done and it was time to close shop. I don't know if she puked, but she definitely dry heaved some. The most I could do was when I saw the girls holding her hair over the sink was get some rubberbands from the closest bartender and pass them on to them.

Yeeeaaaah, she really needed help walking. It was good night, depending on how you looked at it. All the females piled into their car, one of them was the double-D and was able to handle the wheel, while the sister just looked miserable and I could only guess how'd she feel the next morning. I took roommate and boyfriend home, getting plenty of "Driving Miss Daisy" comments, as well as some messing with me while I drove, but they weren't bad, just that annoying drunk that's funny if your drunk as well, but not to anyone else really. Got home safe, everyone heads to bed, and I get the last laugh when the next morning I'm the only one without a headache.

Getting back to my original point, I understand this kind of night. It's fun (until it's not) and there's people to help take care of things (and you) and it may not have gotten to that point, just water wasn't spaced between drinks enough (or thinking about it, at all). But I still don't get people who make that their night's mission. The ones who aim, and achieve, that point of not being able to take care yourself.

Maybe it's because I'm just not that much a drinker (which several people have told me that means it will be hilarious (for them) when they finally manage to get me to that state) and stop before I ever reach a point I can't. Because I don't really like the taste of much wine and almost no beer, I just haven't been subject to consuming until I can't. Frankly, I'm okay with that. I can get headaches all on my own, thanks, I don't need the help of anything else. I'll drink to enjoy, but still make sure I am enjoying myself.
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Okay, just so you know, I'm not dead. I just haven't been feeling posty lately. I've got RL worries. But still, a little distraction now and then isn't bad.

And it's not like the RL stuff is terrible at the moment, I'm just feeling very anxious about everything. I want it the way I want it now, and the sooner I find out how it'll all work out the better (hopefully).

But I do have a couple of posts I need to get to. There's actually a list to.

  • Latest Young Justice episode review

  • A full review on the new My Little Pony show (I might as well)

  • I still have a couple writing projects I haven't talked about yet

  • There's still a post on DreamWorks Animation I need to work on

  • Change the band's name to "Something, Something Explosion"

So yeah, things to look forward to, eventually. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to stare at my phone until I get that callback.

*Edit* Oh yeah, Happy V-Day for those that this isn't a depressing holiday for

*Edit: The Sequel* Oh yeah! (think the Kool-Aid version this time) Got my callback, made it to the second interview!
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Resolutions for the new year aren't exactly the best way to start things off. The word is too strong for things that people are mainly only wishing for, things that they want but most likely won't honestly put the effort into after two weeks. So I'm not making any New Year resolutions. I'm making a list of things I wish to hopefully accomplish. If I do them, sweetness. If I don't, the goal stands until completed or gets placed on the side. Either way, I'm not committing myself to something I can promise will happen. But I can hope.

My List o'Goals )

There's a few other things I need to do, but they're too important to just hope for. They need to get done, right quick and in a hurry. So that's something to get going as soon as I get back to P-town.

Other than that, I don't know what do really look for in the new year. This past one has been so low that hopefully I can going look up. I just need to get things in gear.
ravenswept: (Bunny Controls All)
Not having anything as funny as these relating to myself, not that I remember anyway, Unca Ravenswept is gonna today tell you two stories from people he knows about things that happened to them. Expect in the case of one story, which itself was a story told to them, so it's a third hand story; maybe second hand, once removed. Never did understand how that "removed" nonsense worked. Anywho.

My roommate has a sister. Growing up, they had the normal amount of "bad" things occur to them in life; having to move unexpectedly, the untimely death of a pet, relatives sick, life in general in its not so fun moments. But what his mother did to him and his sister is just... odd.

See, his mom can cook (when she wants to, which isn't often). One thing she will do fairly often is bake, mainly cookies. Anyway, my roommate has an aversion to lemon bars. Won't look at them, won't eat them. He says he gets the sweats when he sees them, but that I think is him being just a tad melodramatic. What happened was, whenever one of those bad things happened when he was a kid, his mom would bake lemon bars and present them to he and his sister. To soften the blow, as it were. This had terrible consequences.

She did this act every time something unfortunate happened. So, as they grew, they built up a horrific knowing when their mother came bearing lemon baked goods. They were sent into a worried frenzy when she made them once without there being a reason. Both brother and sister was sure something horrible had happened. Lemon bars did not come without a price.

To this day, their mother believes that they just made that story up. To which they ask why is it they both developed the same phobia. She's still in denial.

Childhood trauma is fun!

The second of our two tales involves the wonderful folks at Penny Arcade, specifically head guy-who-makes-sure-the-company-doesn't-collapse-everyday dude Robert Khoo, and newest member of the asylum Erika Greco. This story comes to be by way of telephone by best friend, and PAX Enforcer, [name withheld for privacy], related to her by way of Robert Khoo at the Enforcer/staff/PAX survival party.

Robert, busy as he is, is sometimes a bit absent minded. Once upon a random day, he left an unopened can of Pepsi(tm) on the main table of the office. Erica, for dark and twisted reasons unknown, wrote a snarky little note, taped it to the can, and placed it on Khoo's desk.

And from humble origins, the first shot fired.

Thus was the war of "That Fucking Can/Opponent's Name" begun. For months, back and forth they traded the can, but not merely from desk to desk. At some point, i.e. the third trade, they began to be tricksy little Hobbits's. They started hiding the can. Behind office toys, taped under desks, any place that could hold an 8oz can of carbonated sugar and caffiene was not left unspoiled. Why was this such a matter of importance? Pride. And fun. Mainly vengence.

And then Erica had a plan. Or an idea, that turned into a plan. But evil it was undoubtedly.

One Mr. Khoo was not officely present one day, and she struck her terrible blow. Taking one of his office couch cushions she proceeded to open, insert the can, re-sew it as to look untainted, and replaced said cushion to its herd. And she waited.

And waited.

And waited longer.

Some time, we're talking like a month or two, and he never found it. He knew it was his turn; well, if not he should have. So, being fed up and wanting to see the return of her investment, she nonchalantly wandered into his 10x8 florecent realm. And casually (read, goaded) remarked that he looked thristy. That he may have been has no weight; she wanted results. So she again and again mentined his parched appearance. He was confused; why mention liquid nurishment and not at least tease him with something she herself was drinking. Oh, hell no, she didn't!

In front of her - and whoever happened to pass by his office window and open door - he proceeded to "tear" his office "apart" looking for the damned aluminum cylindar. Erica laughed her evil laugh, having finally gotten the better of Mr Khoo. She bade him hints to steer him closer to the couch.

Finally he understood. Loudly proclaiming "Is this it? What did you do?" he cluched a pair of scissors and tore into his cushion from the couch. Fluff and stuff flying, he triumphantly pulled forth his prize and thrust it into Erica's face -

A can of Barq's Rootbeer.

A cursed Khoo! Naive and fuming, young Erica let loose a loud and angry roar of disapproval (and most likely a long string of cusses the likes of which hasn't been heard since the last time someone stubbed their toe), and ran back to her own offical dwelling, for it was her turn to rend assunder her own workspace. Mighty Khoo, having found the damned can some months ago, had played his own game well. He too had carefully dissected his couch, removing and inserting his own twisted mockery of the game, like a pig's heart into a failing crash victim. What pray did he do with the Pepsi of can? Only he and his dark ways know.

What moral, if any, did this story have?

You cannot win; Robert Khoo is better than you. Definitely smarter. Most likely more handsome as well.

*EDIT* As of 4-8-11, the story is now very public, and they tell it much better than I. Also with much more gusto*
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Though I much prefer "Carol of the Bells". With TSO's "Christmas Eve in Sarajevo " as a close second (which uses CotB as it's base).

But yes, apparently my parents wish to see more of my face, and are willing to fly me home for the (newest) holidays. It is an isn't really unexpected, I knew my parents would probably offer to do, but still it's nice to know that they did. I hope there isn't still a metic shit ton of snow there. And it's probably cold as hell. We're talking in the negatives until 10 in the morning, and then it's just a little over freezing.

I feel kinda bad though, because for the third Christmas in a row I won't be able to get presents for anyone. And it sucks, because I inherited my mom's genes of liking giving gifts. It's not a compulsion, but I do greatly enjoy finding things that people like, enjoy, and want and being able to give it to them. And just because of life happenings, I haven't been able to do so for far longer than I'd like.

But it is what it is. I can only do so much, and worrying about it won't change what I have no control over. Hindsight is helpful, but it won't help me move forward right now.

Oh jesus the dog just farted. Oh dear lord, it's lingering! NO! No, don't come closer! Go away! Oh, oh god, please go away.

Well, at least I'll be able to continue my tradition of seeing how fast other people get annoyed when A Christmas Story gets turned on as often as possible; it happens a little faster every year. I'll probably get in a least two good viewings, and then tune in off and on the rest of the day.

I'll also be staying past New Year's, so, with as many friends as my mom has, I'll most likely end up at someone's house for a party of some sort. I'd be really surprised if I didn't, my mom's group of friends get together at least three times a week, and they all work together on top of that. So that'll be interesting, to say the least.

Which'll give me time to think about resolutions and such. What I want to do with the new year; you know, besides have a much better one than this one.

Well, that's not fair, this year had a few bright points. One major one. So there's that.


Sep. 5th, 2010 11:56 am
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I've had marriage on my mind the past few days. Not mine of course, I'd need at least a girlfriend to even consider it, but the concept in general and those of a few friends of mine.

It comes up at all because the other day I got news that a childhood friend I had, and the son of friend's of the family since before I was out of diapers, was getting a divorce. And it was news to me, mainly because I've really only had contact with them, my friend and his wife, through Facebook (you know, the current villian, or at least Dragon, to LJ right now) and their words never betrayed anything wrong. Granted you can withhold as much as you want and put on a happy text, but there was really nothing that preceeded this news.

And it's sad, because they seemed (don't they all) happy with each other. I was at their wedding the summer before I moved, and it was a pretty big deal; fancy mansion reserved for the ceremony and reception, a hella lot of food (prepared by the bride's family), a video kiosk for making a congratulations vid, it was a double wedding with friends of theirs, rented old school limo carriages, the works. And every time I saw them they seemed to be in love.

All I found out, and I need to call her (the mother-friend who's keeping me informed) and find out more, is that apparently the wife has had four affairs - whether this counts as four seperate people or just four incidents is unknown - over the course of their three-to-four year marriage. Sad times, I liked them both. Loyalties go to the groom though, he and his family are who I got way back with.

I'm told he's happy now, having removed himself from the situation and making the decision to seperate; happier than he's been in a long time, which makes me wonder how happy he or they were in private.

Before all this and some years earlier, another friend of mine, this time from high school, got married too. This... was not a marriage I supported. For many reason. First, he was too young. He was, I want to say, twenty-two, but not really emotionally set for this level of commitment. He was the kind of person who acted like an adult, because that's how he though an adult should act, but wasn't really quite "acting" like an adult. It's not that I don't think people can't be married young and have it last, but he was just not ready.

Next, they had only known each for about six months, and had been living together for four of those months. To me, for them, much too soon. Again, he was acting how he thought an adult should act, part of that brought on because his to-be wife was some seven years older than him, and had already been married once before. Again, I'm not against short courtships, but for them it was just not something I could support.

Then there just a bunch of smaller things that seemed off about the whole deal. She wanted him to change his name. Not "take her name", but have him change his last name to something else because his last name reminded her too much of an old boyfriend (who's first name was close to my friend's last name) and she would take that. There was also how fast the whole thing came about. From decision, to prep, to date it all came together in a way that seemed like they were rushing towards something but there not being any deadline. She wasn't pregnant, neither was moving anywhere, but still the wedding "needed" to be soon.

As bad as it sounds, myself and few friends started a divorce pool betting on long we thought the marriage would last. We supported them, despite our reservations, but weren't keeping up any false hope.

Their marriage lasted a year. It didn't end well, there was a lot of fighting, and while I think they're on ammicable terms now, it was an ugly seperation. And again, as bad as it sounds, I place a lot of the blame on his shoulders. He had been warned. He, supposedly, knew what he was getting into (I don't truly believe he did). And it was a lot of mainly his decisions after the fact, much of which I found out later, that were what led to the final outcome.

In part because of this, my mind has wandered to the thought of marriage and where I stand on it. My ranking is pretty low. No real love life to speak of. My last real girlfriend is already taken, no real love life to speak of, and I don't really have any game to take with me should I even go out. There is something of a bit of a crush. But nothing that looks like that kind of relationship - or any kind of relationship - on the horizon.

Eh, I'm just gonna depress myself if I keep thinking along those lines, and I've already gone more emo in a few posts than I've wanted to.

Still, I'm sad for my friend. His marriage is ending for reasons he had no control over, and seperating from someone I think he really did love and trusted, and that trust was abused. More than once.
ravenswept: (Default)
*preface note* i'm well aware of the implications lj has proposed with their soul selling whore-like actions media expansion to include twit and fb inclusion, but choose to trust in those who read my journal. granted, i'm not going to be quite as open, writing wise, but i'm not going to stop writing here*

Inner child doesn't mean being pregnant )

I will keep the kid side of me close to the top. There's no reason to bury it just because you grow up.


Jul. 31st, 2010 07:30 pm
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It's weird to think that life has it's own deadlines, whether you make them yourself or they just appear without you knowing you were on the clock. And you can't avoid them; postpone, maybe, if you manage to work out some kind of deal, but eventurally the big hand reaches midnight, the countdown hits zero, whatever supposedly happens to mark the passing happens and you're left to wonder why you even got in the race to begin with.

This deadline, at least, I know about, but is still annoying.

My best friend, who I travelled cross crountry to be roommates with, has decided to have a quarterlife crisis. This crisis involves not being content with his life as he sees it, and, though I don't think he'd admit it, the way life has of settling you down and he's not taking the settling well. Steady job, steady relationship, knowledge he wouldn't have to do much more, the whole deal seems to just set him on edge. He wants to have done so much more, and every step that leads to being like "everyone else" and settling down just scares the bejeezus out of him.

So, in his infinite wisedom, as soon as our lease is done in March, he's going to move to Arizona. The reason is valid, he wants to go to school to learn to be a specialized mechanic, and he only really plans on being there one year. The whole crowbar in the bike wheel is that I, being said roommate, will be on my own.

It's not the first time he's done something similar, either. Three years ago he up and decided to move to Portland, mainly because he got a bug up his ass that if he didn't move right then, then he figured he never would. So he did, to prove that he could, regardless of anyone else. This, while not totally overlapping, has shades of that episode.

So, now, I know that come March I'm a little S.O.L. in terms of living arrangements. I could, in theory, get my own place, and I may end up doing so. I could also end up moving, be it also to Arizona, to keep him company, keep rent down, and for the change of scenery; or, possibly, and this one is kinda winning out on the moving side of the issue, I could go up north, up past Seattle, where I have friends and such.

I hate this kinda stuff, I don't know what I want out of all this. I'm pretty much on my own, so there's really not anything holding me back. No relationship (unfortunately); my friend actually broke his off so they wouldn't have a deathclock to the relationship, and because he doesn't want to attempt a long distance relationship (don't blame him there). No job that can't be done someplace else, annoying as it is to get licensed in another state, and find another job. And a big part of it was, I just moved here. I thought, when I left DC, that he was happy where he was and wasn't gonna be going anywhere again, that was part the point of moving to Portland in the first place. So I moved, for what may amount to only one year, and then everything gets topsy-turvy fuckall again.

ravenswept: (Default)
Know what sucks about liking soda so much? You drink too much, are still awake at one o'something in the morning, with only the sounds of a fan blowing not-so-cool air around the apartment and what I imagine to be the smoking, and possibly high, hippie-like neighbors laughing much too loudly even though it's against complex sound ordinance, and thereby letting yourself think much too long about things that will only get you down.

I'm not where I want to be. Few people are, and future ambitions aside that's not what I meant. At the moment, I'm waiting to hear back from the state licensure after much too fucking long so that I can go to work. I can't work without that license, so I'm stuck doing nothing until then...well, okay, not entirely true, but I have a job lined up already. My saved cash is running out, and I'm on a shoe-string budget as is. My writing isn't coming as smoothly as one could hope, which isn't so much a thing, being I'm not currently making money from it, but it's not helping.

And, of course, all this is when my Jeep window decides that it's going to burn out the motor while the window is "down", so now I'm ghetto fabulous with a trash-bag window.

I moved out from Washington D.C. in late March to Portland, OR, to be roommates with my best friend who I roommated with a few years previous. In D.C. I was more or less scabbing, living with my grandfather, rent free, while I went to school to try to do something more with my life than live at home (again, long story) and work a full-time job/part-time hours serving job; a job I had just quit, rather than let my budding sociopathy bear fruit and unleash all those nice little comments I hold back when you crack a stupid joke about the special or attempt to be witty to a server who, really, could care less. See, I've been out three years and still it comes back rather quickly.

I moved to Portland to attempt to be more...I dunno, adult. Parents aren't close enough to turn to if I need help, no family at all in the same state (well, not entirely true, I had an uncle who lived here, but I didn't know that until he had already passed away years ago, but I barely knew even him, so his family don't even register to me), a best friend who has his own issues and worries, and rent to pay. Hurrah, hurrah.

In the middle of it all, I find myself, in the damning quiet of not having anything to distract me, trying to figure out what I want. Not just for myself, but what is it I'm going for.

No girlfriend; I feel socially awkward as is, and while I can blend in fine with you normies, actually striking up a conversation with a female has never exactly been my forte. I can fake it, I can even flirt in fact, but actually making any move of substance; not exactly where I shine. I've only had one previous girlfriend, and that was a pretty serious relationship...for what it was, looking back at it, I was massively unmature enough to understand a lot of it. But it was what it was, and I still care for her, though not that way. We split on good terms, and hell, I jumped at the chance to have the honor of marrying her to her husband (good guy, fellow geek) when she announced she was engaged. Also, I had no money for a gift, really wanted to give them something meaningful, and it helped reconnect with her again. Somehow I ended up getting a gift from them for officiating, I'm still not quite sure how that works out but anyway...

Hell, I don't having many people I could even call "friend". My roommate is my best (male) friend, for all his pluses and minuses. My best (female) friend is one state up, I really need to get up to visit her come to think of it, and unfortunately we don't talk enough. What friends I still have from highschool are mostly names on Facebook now, those I made at work pretty much stay "work friends", of those work friends all of them are in different states now, and I'm too much a shy bastard to actively go out and meet people. An extrovert, I am not. Internet friends are internet friends, you take as much from them as there is. Some you know, some you think you know, others you delude yourself into saying their friends, but too many are just names that aren't theirs and words on a screen you have to try to place a face and voice to, and often there isn't one.

Geez, I tried to write this out to get it off my chest, when is the healing supposed to begin, eh?

But then again; words on a screen. When you don't actually talk to someone, nobody's really listening.

I think I need to not think for a minute.
ravenswept: (Default)
Today was my last day of work for a while. It wasn't sudden or anything, I'd let them know a month in advance, but it's still strange to know that where you've been for the past five months of monetary gain is no longer where you'll be.

This is all in preparation for Saturday, which will begin a test of endurance when I start driving from Washington DC to Portland, OR. It's looking to be a four day drive, and unlike the last time I had to do this no one is coming with me. So it'll be just myself, my Jeep, and whatever music I have going. And cows. Sometimes horses. And a whole hella lot of flat mid-West.

And I hate the mid-West.
ravenswept: (Default)
Where I work, we deal with multiple clients a day. We try to give as relaxing an experience as possible, and it starts with the environment. We also have a break room.

This break room is at the end of the only hallway in the place. You open the door, and you can see into the room, and anyone should they be inside. Now, inside this break room is a microwave. It is used to cook, usually more of a re-heat, edible foods any employee has brought in and wishes to eat on their break.

For the third time in several weeks, I've been bringing in several dehydrated mirco-meals for anyone who cares to to use; usually instant chow mien, should you wonder, though I did find a mac n' cheese version on my last hunt. I didn't care so much about the price or anything, it came from a dollar store. And this act was much appreciated by the other employees, because often there would be little time between sessions, and no time could be taken to go and get something to eat. And, of course, few of us actually bring in something to eat from home.

What all this rambling explanation leads to is this; smells. Apparently, the instant meals I've been bringing in have been causing - "smells" - to waif down the hallway. Which, according to my boss, is disruptive to the relaxing experience I described above. Smells only he, really, seems to pick up on, and only go as far as one door down, which is a bathoom; which, you'd think, would be a bigger worry, smell wise. So, on the first day of my latest shipment, and with only a few people able to partake of the haul, I was asked to take the meals away.

Here's the thing; I get it. He's the boss, and really I can't argue with what he wants done in his place of business. But you have a freaking microwave in the break room. This device, by its nature, is cooking whatever is placed inside of it; something is going to smell eventually. And if we bring something from home, it's gonna happen. Also, what's to stop someone from bringing only one instant meal to work? It's what they brought, there's really no rules on food (other than the new "no smelling food"), and they need to eat. They may not have the money to buy something.

It's asinine to block my food, which is a gift to others as well, and no one else. If smell is what you're worried about, take the microwave out of the building. It's the only way you can guarantee the air will not be befouled by the smell of someone relaxing. Sure, you may cause some hated among those you employ, yeah, you're saying that the room designated for our break can only be used for sitting and talking (which still needs to be done quietly), and our food intake is limited to that which can not be cooked in a microwave, which you provided.

I don't know, it's annoying. I'm still bringing in the meals, for myself at least, because I have sixteen of the bastards left, and I'm eating them only for dinner.
ravenswept: (Default)
A few days ago, my roommate waxed un-poetic about how he yearned for the day of youth, when we ourselves had no responsibilities beyond coming home with no gushing blood or protruding bones (and homework). Our biggest worries dealt with teachers and tests, and what to do with the summer. I empathized, and knew what he was talking about, but didn't think much of it at the time.

Today I knew what he felt and desperately wanted to return to such days.

Truth be told, what it was wasn't that big. My engine froze sometime the previous night, and I was taken to ask said roommate for his car keys. And I have permission to use the car as needed until mine is fixed, but that's not the point. It never is. The point being that I was one day away from taking my Jeep into a garage anyway for different problems, so all I needed was just two more days of it starting. But the closer to Christmas, I think, the more things have the tendency to fuck up sideways.

...breaking news, my best friend (and ex) just got engaged while in Japan. I'm going through the different phases of shock and will faint in due course.

So, finding out my personal transport had failed me, I went to work in borrowed goods pissed off at the world and ready to bite the head off anything that sneezed at me too loud. I dunno, something about when you're mad at little things means that everything is ten times worse. I lost the feeling about 2 in the afternoon, but until then I just wanted people to shut the fuck up and stop saying the stupid things that come out of their mouth. But I held my tongue and made it through the day. Still annoyed that my Jeep doesn't run and I may have to have it towed somewhere, but it could be worse. I think that it's the first major 'thing' I've had to deal with since moving out on my own has something to do with it, and it takes everything in me not to run home to have my parents fix everything for me.

May I not fuck this up beyond fixing.

...as for the engaged thing...yeah, I need thinking time.


Oct. 27th, 2006 10:27 pm
ravenswept: (Default)
I've had a most...interesting night. After getting off work I proceeded to kill time by first going to an arcade, and when sufficent funds had been sacrificed I then made my way to the local Barnes & Noble. Why noble is out numbered by barnes I'm not sure, but I think the answer lies with trade secrets and a garbage bag tied to a large rock located in a unnamed river in an unnamed city.

Anyway, I walk around a collect a small number of books to read with no intention of buying, but do validate the trip with the purchase of Evanescence's new dropped album, the Open Door. I got lucky and managed to snag one of the fluffy chairs near a window and proceed to read.

For those who are more visual, there was a small coffee-type table upon which my feet rested, the window ledge that held my books that weren't mine, and another padded lounge chair across the table that held in it's unholstered maw a gentleman of about 60, 65, who was himself amists' reading or talking on his cell to who I believe to be one of his offspring.

Then, inexplicably, I happen to look up. This girl, fairly cute I think - hey, it was dark outside and I was dealing with inside glare - waves to me, bends over, blows me a kiss, winks and continues her way down the sidewalk. I was, honestly, a bit stunned. I don't consider myself to be that attractive; average maybe, but worthy of what just happened? I glanced over to the gentleman across from me, and realized he had paused in mid conversation with a loved one to watch what had just occured.

"You just got blown a kiss there"

"Yes," I said, still stunned. "Yes, I did."

"Did you know her?"

I could only shake my head, peering around the window as much as I could to see it maybe I could catch another glimse. While this event did put a little flutter in the chest area, I did nothing with such material and just continued reading, looking back down the window as if she would again appear. Had I any courage, I should have gotten up and followed outside, see if maybe this wasn't an isolated occurance. But no, I did no such thing, instead passing it off as chance and saying to myself that it would be a waste to not use the large stockpile of wimp and spineless I seemed to have hidden in storage.


Well shit

Oct. 26th, 2006 08:59 pm
ravenswept: (Default)
This has been an odd day, and I don't feel it was use to its' highest degree. What I mean by that is, while I enjoy - and in fact, thrive in - the odd day of absurdity, I never know what to make of them when they become odd for banal reasoning.

I awoke at what seemed to be an oh-god-thirty-o'clock, and while I know it not to be my body says different until copious sugar and non-coffee caffeine are intravenous fed, and made off to work. What I do is banal, but money is decent enough and hours are spread out. I arrived and began to feed my habit when a fellow employee asked what I was doing.

Working? No, oh no.

Seems during my rare day off, the schedule had been redone and I no longer needed to bless the people with my presence. I was a bit annoyed, feeling that my wakened self could be of more use if I was back in my own bed, but with my personal time reversal device in my other pants, I was wrought to sigh with heaviness and simply return home.

With all my complaining, you'd think I did something worth while with my day. Maybe wrote on a story, cleaned up a bit, went out and saw things of wonderment. HA! I, pathetically, used most of my day to play, or watch the playing of, video games. I am sad.

Well, not the entire day was wasted in front of the glowing box of my worship. Around five-ish I was forced to travel to my second unit of monetary gain. This job also depends on the patronage of random strangers, and while not as well traveled as my first job, is steadily climbing. But this is compared to an almost bottom red line before, so comparisons aren't exactly stimulating. And tonight sucked beyond suck. A vacuum in space has less force then tonight did. It wasn't dead; no no, that would be enjoyable compared to this. Instead, we had simply three come in tonight. Three. And spaced apart by hours, so time slowed to a crawl.

I'm starting to get sick of it all. I enjoy what I do to some degree, but I'm almost to the point of leaving and finding something else. My options would be limited, but still, set hours and higher pay do have that attractive appeal; even retail is certain areas would supply what I'm looking for.

Thank god for Halloween; my favorite holiday, finally here. Not that I plan much, but just the knowledge that it's here is good enough. Pop in the holiday favorite, Nightmare Before Christmas, almost once a night and kick back. I love the movie, almost on the basis of it works on two levels, and every holiday season retail stores will carry it once during Halloween and then again during Christmas.

Because nothing is better then Halloween during Christmas.


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