Distracted

I stayed up talking to Sire till 4 am last, which is glorious, --if a bit distracting. That's okay, because it's nice; he has the kind of personality you can curl up in and feel safe. I'm working on his Christmas poem every time I get a free minute, in my brain.

I won't tell what it's going to be about, but it will be terrific... I know it.

Anyway, I'm going to see TSO today with my gramma and grampa, and I'm super excited; and soon, I'll be going for adventures with my best man in Florida.

For Sire, my single best distraction:

12 Days of...A List of Shit I Want for Christmas

These are things that are actually on my Amazon wishlist, --and since I know how much all my readers love me, I expect to see this shit arriving on my doorstep (...in front of my apartment door) for weeks to come. I'm going to do 12 per day.

Today's items of awesomeness are:

1. The "Exquisite Headdress" with Peacock Feathers --Because it's fucking amazing and I have gorgeous hair, --you've probably seen it. And this would look beautiful in my gorgeous hair, as I wander down the aisles in Wal-Mart, buying generic cereal and attempting to find a new pair of flats.

2. The Kitty Hideaway Cave -- My cat is a Sphynx named Totoro; he was half-named by my grampa, and half-named by one of my favorite Miyazaki movies "My Neighbor Totoro." Screw you if you don't like cartoons or hairless cats. He's beautiful, and deserves -all- the toys he can get. 

3. The Armarkat 57" Faux Fleece Cat Climbing Tower Tree -- I think I've said all I need to about why my cat deserves nice things. -folds arms, glares-

4. Ranger Alumaguard Live Bait Net with 24" Handle -- This is what I need to properly catch crawdads. Don't judge me, they're good eating. 

5. Corral Women's Turquoise Cortez/Cream Fleur de Lis Boots -- I got a really pretty pair of pink Durangos from the Shado-Daddy, Stan the Man, --the best piercing artist you'll find in Missouri, and any of the states surrounding, over at TRX Tattoos in St. Louis. Now I want a pair to put next to those gorgeous babies, and these are the only ones that are pretty enough to be equal, --and they can handle gravel and mud.

6. The Art of Alice: Madness Returns -- I wants it for pretty simple reasons, --I can get all the books I want on my Kindle, and I want this one for the pretty pictures.

7. Alice: Madness Returns -- To go with the book, and because I really wanna play this game. Yes. Give it to me nooooooow. 

8. Vampire the Masquerade: Redemption -- I want to play this all the way through, and am pissed off that all I've done is play bits here and there. 

9. Cinderella Petticoat -- It's sooooooo pretty. And I have lots of long skirts to put this underneath. Unfortunately, I do not have those shoes, but my tits are bigger than hers, so I win. 

10. Oversized Wide Neck Tee -- For sexy jammies, --thongs are overrated, and covered in germs. Gimme a big sexy t-shirt any day. 

11. Mako Bait Casting Net -- For crabbing off the pier and canal docks at night, snagging needle fish for bait, and whatever else I can get.

12. RedHead Caliber Waterproof Hiker for Ladies -- The pic shows the man-boots, --the girls' are a bit softer gray, and have red soles. I like these, --they're durable, and they'll keep your feet dry. Good for fishing and camping and hiking. Which I'll get to do at some point, between work and school, I'm sure.

Oh. Okay.

I am an expert at being invisible, and hiding what I'm really thinking/feeling; I'm also pretty good at making myself unobtrusive and uninteresting, so I have this medium in which to scream and cry and hurt, without anyone necessarily caring or stopping by just to stare at my inner car accident, in which bodies have been crushed and smashed into something that vaguely resembles human shapes...

I cried this morning; not just because someone ditched me, but because I suspect the reasons behind it aren't just the reasons given, but, because the other person has not, will not, ever like me, and I don't actually mean affectionately, as one likes a person they someday hope to fuck, I just mean, as a person. And I didn't cry for them not liking me, I cried because I wanted this person to like me. Why should I care at all? Aren't most people able to just shrug that sort of thing off and move on to their next social victim? I cried because I'm sorry for not only being trapped in this stupid apartment one more night because I have committed the unforgivable sin of being unattractive, but because I'm not thick-skinned enough to just not fucking care.

I miss my friends in Florida so much; I wish Sire was here, and Jessica, and Kristen, and Dan, even though he'll probably be angry with me at some point this week.

A friend of his showed vague interest in me a couple days ago, and I killed it by mentioning that I dated (yeah... right, sort of?) his friend Sam, who dumped me for bread, and said that Dan and Sam both agree that I'm basically insane because I was trying to be more healthy (lost 50 pounds, actually), by not eating carbs. I didn't bother telling Dan how much that hurt, because I was trying to make it seem like I didn't care, but you know, he's seen more emotional craziness from me than he deserves to, so I figured it was kinder to just be flippant.

He's dating/with someone new anyway, so it would be unfair of me to confide in him for any reason, and as we grow further apart in opinion, and heart, I am unable to just sit back and accept his departure silently. I can appear to be doing this fairly easily, but inside, and in private, it is painful. More painful than being discarded for dietary choices, maybe as painful as having two people whom you love and trust jokingly agree that you're crazy, even though you're desperately struggling to be healthy and even succeeding.... not as painful as failing because after they said that, I gave up, and gained all the weight back.

It wasn't a great holiday, my family makes me uncomfortable.

I dreamed last night that I fell in love with this youngish, facially scarred black guy, who didn't know, of course, that I was in love with him. He stabbed this girl, someone universally acknowledged (by the general college populace in my dream) to be a cunt, and I was the only witness. He suspected I saw it, and became amorous towards me afterwards. I was unable to reconcile whether or not I ought to report him; on one hand, he was being affectionate (I really only receive this sort of stuff in my dreams these days), but on the other, it was pretense to keep me from ratting him out. On one hand, I loved him, on the other, he had just killed someone, and additionally, could he kill me as well, given that he was only pretending to care for me?

I woke myself up because it was a miserable situation with no solution that I actually wanted to experience.

I'm going back to sleep, and now that I've had my day effectively ruined by the forces of the universe which apparently prefer that I stay miserable and alone, maybe I'll get the dream back, because at this point, whatever the solution to the dream, it's preferable to sitting here, feeling like the most disgusting, worthless, and unappealing person on the planet.

Holiday Cooking: Old People Beware/Surprise!

Old people everywhere: cooking meat until it "falls apart" does not mean you're a good cook, or that the roasted animal is "perfectly tender." It means you've cooked it until it's mush. This is not the same. Roast beef is ideally, red or at least pink in the center, and the grain is easily separated, --while maintaining a solid form, easily sliced. If you've cooked it until it's brown in and out, cannot be sliced without it crumbling and it falls apart, congratulations, you have overcooked your roast. Stop bragging at parties, stop showing off. The same applies to turkey. Too much moisture, not enough heat, too much cooking, and the turkey will fall apart and be overcooked. If you can't roast, do ham this holiday season. Everyone loves ham (unless you're a foreigner or in a cult) and it's hard to screw up.

I realize that if you're about to turn 64, and your whole family is expecting turkey that crumbles and disintegrates this Thanksgiving, then you're risking a lot. So instead of turkey, buy a duck. Hell, buy two. Or even three, and mix things up. One of my greatest frustrations is that every year on Thanksgiving, we eat the same crap, because everyone in my family is terrified to try something new. I used to cook for a man who would eat almost anything (except pecan pasta sauce) and loved most of it (he didn't like something once, but I can't remember what it was... maybe brie soup). He was followed closely behind by my husband, now ex-, who loved my cooking too.

And now I'm surrounded by family, and my family is Midwestern hillbilly-ish in its roots, and they grew up eating only the most identifiable foods. So trying new things on them... not so great. But! this year, I'm going to get creative, and damn it, I am making that duck. It's delicious, and damn it, they're just going to have to try it. I'm going to make other stuff too... dunno what yet, but I've got time on my hands now, what with being:

FIRED

and all.  Honestly, I was really relieved. I was called at home, on my day off, and told I needed to be at work for a meeting. For the last two years, I have used Wednesday, my "Sunday", to drive to a neighboring town and visit with my grandparents. I also had a plumber scheduled to arrive that Wednesday. So I couldn't make it in. My boss told me "fine, stay home forever." so here I am. At home.

Which is okay, because I was offered a new, better paying position, and pending their credit/background check, I start training on Oct. 29th. Which is just in time to possibly miss my rent payment and end up in the shit. So if you've had a buck or two hanging around in your Paypal account for the last six months since the last time you REALLY needed a that Edward Cullen poster on eBay, you know the one that's signed by Robert Pattinson, and says "Bella Forever"... you could sooo put that cash to good use. Seeing as how you'd be keeping a girl from being screwed. My donation button is on the front page. To quote Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids: "Help me, I'm poor."

...One From The Pitiless Wave

I'm nerve-raw: I have a huge meeting and I am sooo out of my league. I am a trailer-park girl and there's this huge meeting of executive types coming up and I'll be drowning in an ocean of pantsuits and Macy's perfume selections.

They made -me- Director of Sales, and I have so little to wear. I'm intimidated by executive class assholes.

I'm wear a smock jersey grey cowl neck dress with a black triple buckle shell belt.... and some rip-off Chanel silver and black heels.... And then the -next- day of the conference, I guess I'll go with the sheer black and white cherry blossom kimono top...

And sitting and listening to marketing lectures and social networking schemes for 20 hours...

It's so not me. I'd rather be back at work, happy in my business-y Wal-Mart wear, selling the meeting rooms to happy couples, probably third cousins here in the Midwest, --for their wedding receptions. Or with Sire, or Dan, or cooking, or washing dishes, or with Jessica or even my ex-husband. I would rather do something that doesn't involve.... pretending to be something I'm not. And I'm not class, and that's fine, because I never wanted to be.

...The Storm Tossed Waves

You don't have to go looking for trouble for it to find you. Trouble and I get along together, generally speaking, we both try to stay the fuck away from each other but, joy of joys, it just...antagonizes me.

I do way too much for other people, and people I consider my friends. I come off as stoic and rude, but I'm not, generally, when people get to know me. Unfortunately, in my line of work, people only get one first impression, and that's generally the fat mean bitch behind the counter.

I have tried many times to overcome and be the "correct" person, for the various facets I'm required to perform for, throughout my day. I have to be ignorant, in order to go along with the underhanded schemes of my employers; I must be voiceless for the man I currently entertain, and I must be warm, kind, and welcoming to all the people who stand in front of me, throughout the day, regardless of their intentions. I must be obsequious in all regards; I must obey without reluctance, and never question the orders, I must be shrewd as well, and find money where it doesn't exist, and do quite a lot with very little. I must not have desires, --for they will neither be fulfilled, nor will fall on welcoming ears or eyes.

I must not beg for change, and I must have no pride, and I must never expect respect, though I must always show it in return for none whatsoever.

I must be happy with nothing, for it is all I will receive.

I may not smoke, or drink, --I may not swear, or allow myself to indulge in pain, for there will be no comfort. The awkwardness of those around me, the incompetence, must be ignored, and encouragement must always be given, never criticism. I may not speak unless spoken to, --I will never say the right things, so it is best to be led and directed like a doll.

I must not offend anyone with my appearance, and therefore must dress according to guidelines issued by the employer, I must always be painted, and if I am not, I am guilty for leaving my makeup off.

My fat is offensive, my voice, my actions, my face, my eyes.

I must apologize for these things. I must never forget to apologize, all day, and wish everyone the best in life.

I must never be a victim, or allow myself to feel victimized, because I am not. I have brought all events to me through decisions I have made, and I deserve this pain that I cannot reveal. I must not cry; I must be thankful because this is not suffering; I must never allow myself to indulge in suffering. I am lucky. I must always feel lucky, and be lucky.

...Every night, on my way home from work, I drive down a hill; there are railroad tracks at the bottom. Every night I get this urge to speed up, jerk the wheel to the left, and flip my car. I don't know if it would kill me or not, but it would be different... It would be different, ne'est-ce pas?