Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Ruggedly Handsome

Oh so help me heavens, I went to a barre/pilates class yesterday. It seemed like a good idea at the time, doing all that moving and exercising and whatever.

What it really did was bring into stark relief how out of shape I am and how walking is for suckers. I am SO SORE TODAY OH MY GOD.

I'm still very much struggling through the idea of what I want to be when I grow up. It's a really weighty question. You would think I'd have a better idea, given how much schooling I've had and frankly, how much support I've had from my family and my friends.
That being said, I don't think I've ever really posed the question to them and seen how they would help. Or if they would help.


I think I want to be Richard Castle. I don't have a desire to be ruggedly handsome (I don't think there can be more than one Rick Castle), but the idea of being a writer is starting to call to me. I adore the idea of doing it everyday.
It's time for me to buckle down and give it a try.

Monday, October 14, 2013

I have been feeling wicked fatigued lately and unbelievably tingly and cannot, for the life of me, figure out why. I've had 1.25 cc of B12 in the last 10 days. In theory I should be bouncing off the freaking walls.
One thing I am doing is pooping like a maniac, which is never a bad thing.
I've made an appointment with my neurologist and I'm not thrilled about it. I hate having to go. She's a nice enough lady,'s hard to explain. I just hate feeling like an invalid. Most everyone in the waiting room is like, 107 and it makes me feel sooooo lame.

In the meantime I've been working with a career coach to try to fix my resume so I can get a better job. However, in the two phone calls we've had he's hit on some very important points. The main point is somewhat embarrassing.

I am 27 years old and I don't really have any idea what I want to be when I grow up.

I believe I've posed this thought before, but to have someone who I have only spoken to for a couple of hours find that out about me is...upsetting? Weird?
He's given me an exercise so I can work on my resume and I figure we'll jump back on a call in a week or so.

In the meantime, if you have any advice on how to figure out what to be when you grow up...feel free to share with the class.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Getting More Help

Due to this breathing trouble, I called the doctor back and got some more steroids. Apparently the steroid inhaler and the steroid shot I had at the first appointment wasn't enough. These steroids, methylprednisolone, are hardcore.

I do not like them one bit. I'm unsteady, I shake and I'm unbelievably sweaty. Gross, but true. I'm so thankful that today is the last day. The first day (Friday) I had to take 6. SIX. That's a lot of pills that aren't coated and break if you get them out of the blister pack just wrong and taste funny.

I am off them now and this is an extraordinarily good thing.

Last week I went to some online webinars through These webinars were designed to jump-start our job hunt and whatnot. One was one social media, one was on networking and one was on interviewing. It was neat because there was the webinar and a live chat going on in a side window. I ended up connecting with a career coach and it looks like we might work together.

It's looking to be a useful connection.

I've been having headaches. I really would like for them to stop.

Friday, September 27, 2013

Nasty Oxygen Habit

I'm off the hard stuff (AKA hot water and lemon), but I'm still awful wheezy. I went to the doctor earlier in the week (Tuesday?) because it's generally frowned upon when you hear and feel yourself breathe. I also was berated by my well meaning mother and decided it wasn't worth the fight to not go. 

I recently had my parents switch to the same doctor (he's the best, Dr Ram) and when I got there he was weirdly pumped to have seen them. I suppose it's a compliment. Perhaps he was pumped about the money he would make from them, but I don't think that's the case. He's a doctor who listens, which can be hard to find these days. I think he was genuinely excited to have met them and I find that kind of adorable. (My dad had to go see him for a pinched nerve and my mother has some sort of odd itchy rash thing.)

Anyway. Many inhalers later I'm still wheezing and coughing. Thank god the BF is a hard sleeper/basically doesn't remember a thing when he's super tired. I feel like I could blow his house up when he's asleep and he'd roll over and go, "...You okay ?"
In cases like this, it's helpful because I spent a decent amount of time coughing and he spent a lot of time not being kept awake by it. 

I long to breathe. I do have this nasty oxygen habit, you know.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Just add water

In a fit of being far too awesome for words it seems that I have caught a cold. I am snuffly, my throat hurts, there is a pressure in my head and it blows.

I am posting this from my phone so I can show a pic of my mug. The mug that I am drinking my sexy old lady mix of hot water and lemon.

If I am feeling frisky, I might add honey.

Monday, September 16, 2013

Bachelorette Party From Hell

So this past weekend I was supposed to go to a friend's bachelorette party. Well...friend-ish.
I met her at Chic and we became Facebook friends and she wrote a very nice e mail after I didn't get hired.

It was her bachelorette party.

I had a severe case of Le Tireds on Saturday night and didn't want to go to begin with. The BF (who might get a name soon, we shall see) and I hung out for a bit because he was going to drop me off and then pick me up because downtown Royal Oak is what one would call a "Cluster Fuck".

After he woke me up from a nap and I pouted about getting dressed and going to bar with people I didn't really know...we went. Or I went and he dropped me off.
This, my friends, is where the story comes off the rails.

I got a text saying that the other girls were running late, so I stood outside like a bit of a loser. My loserdom must have been wafting off of me because a somewhat drunk girl (named Judith) started chatting with me about the "bullshit" that came with smoking her cigarette outside and having to have her hand stamped so she could get back inside without paying another $5.
(and another thing-what is that? Cover charges? Just mark your drink up an extra dollar or something. Charge more for a sandwich. No one will ever know and then I won't feel ridiculous paying a cover charge.)

Judith was with a different bachelorette party and offered to let me hang out with them while I waited for my friends. I sort of smiled the placating smile you give to the drunk and she went on her way. However, after another five or so minutes, I got bored and kinda chilly and so I went inside to find Judith.

Judith was nice and all "Happy to see you!" and I stood in a corner with a drink, looking for my friends. I ended up standing in that corner of the table for the next hour and a half. I got a little bit tipsy and the girl I was standing next to, Christine (as Judith was off sexy dancing with some seriously older gentlemen), was nice about the fact that I couldn't find my friends.

I was doing fine until one of the bride's friends (even the bride was cool with me standing there, waiting for friends) was like "YOU DIDN'T PUT THOSE ON OUR TABS, DID YOU?", referring to my booze. I was so taken aback that I shook my head and muttered that I didn't not, while immediately tearing up because Judith had come back and was all "I'm sorry you never found your friends."

I think the combination of booze and Le Tireds and overwhelming loud bar/club and new people took their toll at that point because I totes texted the BF to come get me ASAP. I think know I freaked him out a bit, but it was just a lot for my introverted self.

It was a really long weekend.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

If I Were A Vitamin, I Would B12

I had my B12 shot yesterday. It was fresh, good B12 too and I know this for a fact because I got it from my Target pharmacy. It was sort of adorable because they called me to inform me that they hadn't forgotten about me, but they were having a devil of a time getting B12. I then got a call saying that they couldn't get the 10 month supply, only the one month, but a girl will take whatever she can get.

This new stash of B12 also means that, being a 27-year-old female, I'm overly excited about my pooping habits again.
This is not entirely normal for most 27-year-olds. Much less the lady folk.

In other news, I think my hand is getting worse.
I say this as I shake a bit more, but I don't have a resting tremor (thank God) and I don't have nearly the intention tremor that I used to. That being said-I think things are getting worse.

I recently turned down employment at Bagger Dave's (great turkey burgers) because of this. I feel like it's one thing to spill food (hot or cold) all down your front when you're at home and can cuss the sky blue about it, but it's something completely different to do that on a paying customer.
It also is something different to drop a t-shirt or a watch (like when I was at Fossil). People get less cranky about that sort of thing than they do a ruined burger or soda or coffee.

My hand is killing me today.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

There's A Bright Side Of Life?

I'm generally an optimistic person. I mean, even when life kicks me in the ass and whatever, I do my best to look on the bright side of life.
(Insert Monty Python joke here)

I still haven't heard from the Olive Oil shop, but I plan on calling tomorrow. I'm also going to head to all of my malls to see if I can find something part-time there while I figure out the rest of my life. I'm obviously applying like a mofo to full time gigs, but some of us have to pay our bills in the mean time.

Now here is where I turn all optimistic and shit.

A while ago I called the not Ms. Mae loan company to be all "I'm unemployed and basically, there's no way on God's green Earth that I can pay you your $500 a month. What are we to do about this?"
(It's entirely possible that this was the intent of the conversation, but the tone came off more desperate and more snippy.)

The dude I spoke to on the phone sounded like a moron. I mean, his phone behaviour left quite a bit to be desired, so when he was on the phone with me, I was super sceptical that he would be able to help me.
But he did.
Turns out the dude knew exactly what he was talking about and now my loans are in a good good place (AKA $0 a month) because I'm unemployed. I cannot thank that dude enough.

I also have been selling some unwanted books on Amazon. It's not a ton of money, but frankly, it's something. I find it encouraging?

Maybe things are looking up? I don't want to get my hopes too high because when they get dashed, I'll be crushed? But a vague sense of optimism isn't the worst thing, right?

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Heat and Olive Oil

I had an interview today at that Olive Oil shop (remember that?) I'm hoping that they'll actually hire me, despite the fact that it'll only be 10 or so hours a week to begin with. At least at this interview the lady who interviewed me didn't spend all of her time gushing over my Masters degree.

These days I don't feel like much of a master of anything.

It seems that the BF's kidney stone has gone the way of the dodo. Or at least for the most part. He had an ultrasound and while the tech said there was a 3 mm stone left in his kidney, his GP said that was hooey and he's in the clear. Apparently that ultrasound stuff seriously works. He's still in a bit of pain, but it looks like he's better. This is a good thing.

It's been stunningly hot here in MI the last few days. The lack of AC at my house is super annoying and frankly, I don't know how I've been sleeping. Some nights I obviously haven't slept well at all. Last night I went to the BF's house and my love of AC cannot be expressed enough.

My love of his mother's love of smooth jazz? Not so much.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

My Field Is Empty. Whoosh.

I've had a couple of days since I found out Chic hired somebody else. I honestly can't be mad at the other intern they ended up hiring-I'm sure she had no idea I was interested in the job or that I even interviewed.

I am, however, vaguely annoyed with the other people at Chic.

On Monday I was sort of under the impression that they were going to take me to lunch. I was under this impression due to the fact I was asked "Hey, would you like to be around for a sort of "thank you" lunch?"
This doesn't make me totally insane.

So I went in on Tuesday, prepped for boredom (as I have no real job) and a vague sense of giving no fucks. Both of these things happened. And then what happened?

No lunch.
I was called forward to cover the front desk while the new (paid) receptionist went on her lunch break and everyone either went out or ate at their desk. While I appreciate that I don't necessarily deserve anything, I had an impression.

I ended up going to a late lunch at Qdoba where I ran into one of my friends that I've made there at Chic. We chatted and she's almost more incensed that I didn't get hired than I am. She then took me across the street to buy me a going-away cupcake.

My last day ended not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with the sound of a tumbleweed, running through the empty field of fucks that I don't have.

Monday, August 26, 2013

Today I received a nasty shock.

I've been overly worried totally obsessing over this maybe-job at Chic. It's to the point where I'm fairly certain anyone who knows me is ready to poke me in the eyeball in order to get me to change the subject.

I go into my faux-internship and at the front desk is one of the other interns, who I sort of assume is taking over for a bit until I get there.

Funny story!
She wasn't.

I got to do some filing all day while she was training as the new receptionist.

It was a very very long day.

It's time to obsess over something else. Like a new exciting job that I can get because of my degree instead of in spite of it. Or this new cookbook I got that is freaking delicious (so far).

I keep peeling off my nail polish for something to do.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Secret Time! I Have A Masters Degree...

I probably am not the best at handling stress.

This maybe-job at Chic has sent me into emotional overload. I had a second interview on Monday which went something like this.
"...You have a Masters degree. Did you know that? You're 27 and you have a Masters degree. I don't even have a Masters."
"Yes, I have a Masters. So about this recepti-"
"Sigh. Yes I do"

And around and around we went.
Long story short, I was told that while they would go to bat for me, the final hiring decision is with the publisher guy and he tends to like the degree to match the position. This means that my having a Masters degree is a strike against me.

Obviously I took this very well until I got in the car and proceeded to flip my shit. Sobbing while driving isn't as much fun as one would think.
It also leaves smudges on your sunglasses and if you're like me, you're too lazy/forgetful to clean them.

Since this conversation I also had a run in with the other company who holds my student loans (not Ms. Mae). This led to more crying. Thank god the BF is made of infinite patience. I tend to cry a lot these days and grind my teeth. This leads to headaches and not sleeping. And crying.

I hate doing all of these things and I probably should say it again-I don't deal with stress that well.

However, perhaps things are starting to look up. I slept last night. I got an e mail saying that I've got 60 days on my loans while they deal with the "I'm seriously fucking unemployed" paperwork. I only ground my teeth the normal amount last night. I think I've got a lead on a handful of jobs.

Friday, August 16, 2013

My tummy is a-grumbly

The BF is still battling a kidney stone, much to his distress. He's had it for over a month and it took forever for any doctor to do much about it. The main problem was the BF didn't complain enough-while he was in pain, he wasn't in absolute screaming pain, which meant he wasn't a high priority patient. He was able to go about his day and whatnot and he's also very not good at dealing with the medical profession.
I, however, am very good at dealing with them. Next time this sort of thing happens, he's promised to let me deal with it.

The end result is he's still in a ton of pain and I don't like it. Obviously, neither does he.

I haven't been 100% myself these days. I think the stress of wanting this job at Chic is getting to me. My jaw is positively killing me (thanks TMJ!) and my tummy is all a-grumbly. I do not know how much the tummy thing has to do with the job thing, but I plan on blaming it on the job stress. It's easier that way.

I've been able to record my Polish data for the Paper That Will Not End, A Much Maligned Tale of Woe. However, this weekend is so freaking busy that I don't have enough time to work on it the way I'd like to. It's the Woodward Dream Cruise, book club and a freakishly nice weekend. I want to take the Mustang out, look at lovely cars and hopefully not get a sunburn.

I have very delicate lady skin.

Sunday, August 11, 2013

According to my blog stats, I have at least one person (or bot) in Russia reading this thing. I prefer to think that it is Edward Snowden, desperately attempting to pass the time while he figures out what to do in Russia.

Especially when he was trapped in the airport/hotel/no-man's land.
It's a thought that makes me giggle. With that said--
Hello Edward! Welcome! Здравствуйте! Как дела? (you should work on your Russian)

Yesterday I finally posted in a Facebook group that I joined a few weeks ago. It's a bit touchy-feely for my taste, but it's run by a girl whose blog I read occasionally, so I thought I'd try it. I mean, goodness knows things can't really get much worse?

(I'm purposely keeping everything vague here because if this ends up helping me, fantastic. And others might find it helpful-I'm not in a place to openly mock what might be useful. However, that won't stop me from being as sceptical as I can be.)

Every morning (or as best you can), according to this group, you're supposed to begin your morning With Intention. Whether you spend it writing, meditating or exercising, you're to do it With Intention. I think it's got something to do with the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Frankly, I need Seven Habits of People Who Are Able To Function Somewhat Normally In Any Given Week.

I'm deep enough in my ennui to try anything to see if it helps, but also not so deep into it that I can't give my Intentional Acts the healthy side-eye.
This morning, instead of exercising (which I have been trying to do a few times a week because reasons raisins someone told me I should), I read the paper quietly for about half an hour before my mother came in and wouldn't shut the hell up, as she is wont to do.

Tomorrow we're going to try listening to a different podcast or meditating or something as I might maybe probably won't hear about this job, but want to hear about it anyway.
I have to do it With Intention.


Saturday, August 10, 2013

My Ennui

I've been going through some serious ennui stuff lately.

The OED defines ennui as

a. The feeling of mental weariness and dissatisfaction produced by want of occupation, or by lack of interest in present surroundings or employments.

I don't have a lack of interest in present surroundings or employments, but I do have a severe mental weariness at the lack of employment. The place where I intern (and subsequently did not quit), is hiring a full time receptionist. We shall, from here on out, refer to this place as Chic Magazine. 

Chic gave me the heads up that they were hiring someone and offered me the chance to put my hat in the ring. I apprecaited the opportunity, as I've obviously got nothing else on the horizon. 
But then my tender and very fragile little ego was beaten into submission the next day as two perfect-looking girls came into the office to interview for my job. 

I was crestfallen and crushed and smushed and basically beaten down. Then, come to find out, they will have interviewed a total of 8 other people. 

I've been freaking out about this all week, which obviously doesn't help, but I don't know what else to do. 

Needless to say, my ennui is at an all time high and I'm doing my best to battle through.

I really really want this fucking job at Chic. Shall keep you posted.

Friday, August 2, 2013

My temper is on edge

It's safe to say that I have a temper. Sometimes it takes a lot for me to get angry and sometimes it doesn't. I'm not quite Hulk-like it my rage, I don't run around smashing things. I tend to be a slow simmer, waiting to boil over at a moments notice.

I say this because I've been on the verge the last few days.

My mother (and let's face it, we should've seen this coming. Rage usually begins with a mother) travels for work and works far too hard. I understand this. I don't like this, I want her to work less because I'm constantly worried she's working herself into an early grave.

Now she's sick. And when she's sick the world comes to a crashing halt and those few people who are still standing are obviously meant to be at her beck and call.

I can't even get into too many details, but the point of this story is she asked if coming home early from her work trip would screw up my day. I made the tragic error of saying "...a little".
The reaction was extraordinary. And not in a good way. The guilt trip from her was a vision, considering she's not even Catholic.

My temper is on edge.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Trashy TV Canceled for the Day

I'm back at a Starbucks because sitting in my house means I either watch trashy television or...trashy movies. Sometimes I get sucked into good things, but usually it's a marathon of "I Love the 90's" or something and then my entire day is ruined.

This morning my grandmother had knee surgery for which I was nervous. She's freaking 90 and I was like " this a good idea?" Apparently it was because she made it through just fine and even her surgeon was like "She has stronger bones than ladies far younger than her that I work on. So frankly, she's totally awesome" (Note-I might be paraphrasing. The sentiment was there, I don't believe these words were.)

I'm trying to get this fucking Polish paper done because frankly, it's hanging over my head like whoa. I want it done, I want someone to write it for me. Mostly because I want a job. Most of the jobs I'm applying for I only have a mild interest in. The idea of being an administrative assistant just doesn't ring my bell quite as much as it should.
And it needs to ring it good and hard because my bank account is scary sad and low.

I think what I really want to be is one of the following-

1. A writer. I mean, let's face it. Getting paid to do that would be extraordinary. I want to write fiction, I want to write mysteries, like Phillip Marlowe style.

2. A Professor. I keep looking at adjunct professor gigs and my heart goes "SQUEEEEEEEEEE". I have no interest in filing, I have an interest in grading. Writing tests, teaching, terrorizing children into a love for linguistics sounds like a life's calling. SQUEEEEEEEE indeed.

3. Lists should have more than two things, so here's the third one on it. Maybe some kind of shop owner-like a baker or something. Maybe.

I have to do something soon though. Any of you have an idea?

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Like A Fat Kid At A Buffet

In the last few days I realized that I have a lot of things weighing on me, some of them I can control, some I cannot.

The things I can control I need to start dealing with. I'm excellent at hiding in a hole (or my room or the kitchen, eating my feelings out of a Cool Whip container) and ignoring them, pretending everything is fine when it is so obviously not.
Much less so when I run out of said Cool Whip.

Anyway. In hanging out with Shara yesterday I bought new bras. I probably shouldn't have given that I have no income, but man were my old ones...old. And busted. My boobs were quite excited to have new harnesses to rest in. And they're pretty.
While we were bonding over cupcakes (or at least I ate the cupcake. I was hungry and the ensuing sugar headache was intense, but worth it), I sort of outlined the fact that my plate is overflowing with shit. It's like a fat kid at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Some of these things I can take off the plate and it'll make it easier to carry.

Some of the things are just going to have to stay on the plate.

It's this logic that has led me to my local Starbucks, sitting at a table that is too small for me because everyone is hogging the bigger tables that I would like to sprawl out at. I've obvs got the laptop here and the plan is to work on this paper that has been plaguing me since...April  January.

I think leaving the house is a step forward in working because now I'm not home to babysit my mother, who ends up taking an extraordinary amount of my time. I don't know if I'll be home for dinner and even though it means I'll be doing lame-o work all evening, it's kind of liberating. There is a Panera right near by so I can grab dinner and work there if I need to keep this party going, because this is a BIG FUCKING THING I have got to get off my plate.

The BF would be very proud of me. I know he doesn't bring it up often, but I know he disapproves of how I babysit. I'm trying to break the habit, one Shaken Peach Green Iced Tea at a time.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Hope and Hanging Out and Olive Oil

The BF gave me some fairly unwanted advice today about the fake faux internship and how I should stick it out until they get rid of me despite me not doing a whole lot, learning a whole lot or anything else for that matter.
While I know he has a point, that doesn't mean I really want to hear it. I'm feeling extraordinarily beaten down these days between that greedy Ms. Mae and soon the Feds are going to want their money too. I need something that pays cold hard cash money.

In the meantime I hung out with my friend Shara who is moving to Denver. I am very sad that she is moving to Denver, as she is basically my bestie here. She was a bit late in meeting me (she had a doctor's appointment) and I went walking through Birmingham.

I generally dislike Birmingham as it can be full of seriously snotty people who aren't ever told no.

They also don't know what a crosswalk is for, or how to not hit someone who is walking through it.

Anyway. There is this olive oil shop that I like and I wandered in to grab a bottle and I saw they were hiring. I chatted with the saleslady and got a bit of a lead on something that looks like full-timeish employment!!
I don't want to say too much now, for fear of totally jinxing it/tempting the wrath from high atop the thing. I get bitten by mosquitoes a lot and don't want to go outside right not to turn around three times and spit.

It's the first time in a bit that I feel hope. It's a strange and exciting and I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high, which is something I'm really good at doing (by really good I mean really bad, because that means I spend a lot of time getting utterly crushed).

But a little bit of hope is nice. It means I'm not feeling the need to walk into traffic for funsies.

Monday, July 22, 2013

Itching and Quitting

I think I have to quit my fake internship. I also have a veritable ankle bracelet of mosquito bites on my legs. They are itchy and the BF is anything but amused.

Back to the quitting.

I know, I know. I'm unemployed, right? An internship looks great on a resume!
But it's...fake.
Faux. A faux internship.

I go to a fairly chic magazine here in town twice a week and fill in at the front desk. I really like everyone there, but I'm not learning a whole lot. Some of it is because I'm not there all day. I originally was going to be, but my brain issues (see here and here) along with some other symptoms prevented me from going all day. It worked out well, I cannot complain. They were very good to me when I was insanely itchy and shaky and unable to think straight, much less answer a phone.

But now, my position might be coming to a bit of an end. And considering I know for a fact that the other interns A)Do more than me and B)Don't look up stuff on the internet all day (Hey! It's all educational! Smithsonian and Scientific American and Ars Technica and whatnot...)...I think I have to quit my faux internship.

I'm hoping it will result in something that pays. And isn't a synonym for fake faux. It sounds more chic that way.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Drive Faster

I have opened this page many times in the last few days before closing it again without writing anything. Today, however, is different. It finally dawned on me-No one is reading, so it doesn't matter what I write. So long as I think it's funny that is.

A heatwave has come here to Metro Detroit and we Yankees aren't used to it in the least. It's humid, it's hot, you see the wavy lines when you look at stuff far away because it's so toasty. I avoid most of these things by not going outside, however there is no air conditioning in my house.

This means I am adept at attempting to staying cool in the severe heat. I hopped in my car today in the hunt for air conditioning (I'm looking at you Starbucks) and had some work to take with me.
However, in the quest for someplace cooler than my kitchen, I kinda kept driving. I told myself I'd stop at the next one I saw except I must've been going down the most country road ever (except it's not) or I just chose not to see all the coffee shops with all the free wifi.

I kept driving. I turned down the occasional road just to see where it went. I honestly cannot tell you the last time I did something with no schedule, no plan and no...nothing. I had a vague idea on what I wanted to do, sure, but I just...went. I had no phone calls to make for my parents, I didn't have to babysit my mother because she doesn't eat like an adult if I'm not home, I didn't have any kind of itinerary...

It was shockingly liberating. I had a really hard time coming home.

But it was a good lesson. I can do what I want. I can do anything.
I'm going to be okay.

Friday, July 12, 2013

Working on the Night Sweats

I went to the neuro yesterday and got a mostly clean bill of health. I mean, is my brain malfunctioning somehow?
Does it currently seem that I have some sort of terrifying brain disease a la MS or Parkinson's or something else that is going to eventually kill me?

This is obviously very good news. The BF took it very well too. I don't think I knew just how worried he was and he hid it very well.

Of course I was then looking forward to a restful sleep. It's been awful hot here lately and I hadn't been sleeping well because of it. And then it cooled off. So I was looking forward to a restful night's sleep with my fella in the cool cool eveningness of it all.

And of course, right when we get all snuggled in, the fucking night sweats start. I got SO insanely hot that I couldn't think straight. It was absolutely awful. I felt so bad for the Fella because I tossed and turned and pouted like a small, angry child.
I didn't cool off until about 5 am and of course, he gets up for work at 6:30. He says I didn't disturb him, which is probably true because dude sleeps like a fucking rock.

I, on the other hand, am still kinda groggy from sweating like a menopausal lady all night. It might also have something to do with the Tylenol PM I took at about 12:30 am.

At least I'm not shaking.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013


Yesterday I received a really big bitch slap directly to the face from Sallie Mae in the form of my first student loan repayment bill.
The total?


Let us assume for a moment that I was gainfully employed somewhere and not stuck living at home, waiting for neurologist appointments and whatnot. What on earth makes Sallie (I should probably be more polite and refer to her as Ms. Mae) think that I can afford that amount anyway? Even the lease on really really fucking nice cars like Jaguar and whatever aren't quite that much.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of my evening crying last night. My mother handled it like a champ. My father handled it like a jerk. He eventually stopped being jerky, but he certainly fanned the flames.

I will say I called Ms. Mae this morning and they did work with me on lowering my payment so I can't besmirch them too badly. The lady on the phone was very nice and very apologetic so I couldn't get mad at her. It's just upsetting knowing that this is a debt that will follow me for...ever. And I understand that I made this choice myself, no one forced me to do it.
It's still total bullshit that college costs enough where you taking out a loan is the obvious choice for college. I can only hope that things will start to go down? I don't see it happening anytime soon though.

I have a horribly itchy bug bite on my knee-I'm not 100% sure it's a mosquito bite and it itches something fierce. I've had it for nearly a week.
I see the neuro tomorrow. Maybe she can give me something for it.

Friday, June 28, 2013

No Power and Still Itchy

Over a month later (and of course no posts) and I'm still itchy and scratchy. However, they're real itches and scratches. I have acquired, through much skill, many many mosquito bites. It's super annoying, but it's actually a good thing because cortisone cream will work on them! And benadryl! I can take it and it's useful.

It's the small things here.

Last night there were some wicked storms and we lost power. It's unclear when it'll get back on, since the power company (DTE) had us marked as fixed last night when we really weren't. I had to call them and put in a new request. My mother was super annoyed. I had a moment of rage myself, but it passed. There were supposedly 110,000 without power at the height of the problem, but now DTE has it down to 57,000-ish.

This means that my mother and I camped out at a Panera all day. It is not as much fun as one would think. In fact, it's kind of boring. It's nice to be able to be online, to have a light on when you pee, but frankly, my attention span has come and gone. I don't know what I can do to keep myself amused. I'm getting wicked antsy.

With luck, I'll be able to update from a house with power soon, be it mine or my boyfriend's, because I'll be living there until this is dealt with.

I'm pulling for you DTE. Get this shit fixed.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Itchy and Scratchy

I have been an itchy and scratchy mess lately. Early last week I attempted to scratch a mole off. I seriously thought those were more attached than that.

Spoiler alert: They're not.


Once I staunched the bleeding and doped myself up on a fartload of Benadryl, I slept for the first time in a few days. It was a beautiful, yet still itchy, thing.

This itching has gone on for the last 10 damn days and yesterday I reached a boiling point. I went to the store, I bought some Dreft, and went on an overly optimistic vaguely manic washing frenzy.
I washed the following--
My sheets
My comforter
My clothes
My pajamas

And I didn't even wash all my clothes. But approximately 5 loads of laundry later, I hope to have this itching under control. Rationally, I know this won't make much of a difference. That doesn't mean that I'm not a big believer in the placebo effect though. I even plan on taking some Dreft over to the BFs house to wash basically everything he owns, because ohwhynot.

Otherwise I'm going to have to start sleeping with gloves on.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

I have an enormous pimple

I have this pimple on my face. In the scheme of things it's not very big, but it's just one of those things, you know?

The last few years have been a bit shaky. Literally. I've been diagnosed with Essential Tremor, which is really very irritating. My left hand has quite the intention tremor. It means that reaching for things, passing things, holding things, eating things, washing things, typing things, drinking things, moving things, and generally living my life is a pain in the ass.

I've been on propanalol, I've been on primidone and now I'm on topamax. For the moment, things taste funny and I miss fizzy drinks. I liked my Diet Coke dammit!

I live with my parents, I'm looking for work and I'm doing my best to stay sane.

I have this pimple on my face.