So strange.

I like to consider myself to be...confident. I have a high level of self esteem, and generally consider myself capable of anything I want, provided I can work up the urge to get my ass off of my couch and accomplish something. But bypassing my ego, and my narsicism, and beyond all the arrogance that I display to people around me, I'm realistic.

I know that there has to be limitations to my.. amazingness. I understand that despite what I might want, I'm merely human, and thusly a creature of flaws, despite the fact that I would hardly admit such to anyone's face.

I've begun to doubt myself. Not in a way that's an emo cry for help, or an internet scream for attention.. but in my memory. I've noticed that as I occupy my mind with lists of tasks I must complete, and the overwhelming inflow of knowledge that I am sucking from textbooks, my capability to remember things has gone by the wayside.

Now, that's not to suggest that I forget important things, like where I live, or how many hookers I have tied up in the basement, but more like things like: yesterday was my father's 60th birthday. Or that I should have made reservations for equipment for a presentation.

I find it interesting that things I would not normally 'misplace' on my priority list somehow seem to fall off while I'm not looking, simply because I have so much other crap to worry about.

Don't worry. After I woke up in a cold sweat, I called my Father and informed him that I am the worst daughter ever. <3

Time to breathe..

It's over. Well. For a week, or so. I have no more quizzes, tests, or huge assignments to worry about until the week after next. The disturbing thing, is knowing that I should use this time to catch up on my homework, now..But I can hardly bring up the energy to think straight.

I wanted to RP last night. I honestly, honestly did. But when I logged onto IRC, which used to be my most favorite place in the world, I could hardly muster up the energy to look at other peoples' text, let alone write something of my own.

But then again, I still had my head in the clouds.

I ended up going to bed at 9pm. If this keeps up, I'm going to seriously need to reconsider how I can be creative.

And now, a word from our sponsor:

Taking a break. Not that I can really afford it, mind you. The endless number of supply curves and rising and falling marginal utility numbers begs for my attention span, which honestly is nil.


I've been far too worked up, lately.

I'm hooked on energy drinks, again. Tea just doesn't do it for me when I have no time, and way too much cramming to do. I have a feeling I'm going to want to crash on Wednesday, and I am not even allowing myself that minimal pleasure.

No time for my old antics. I can't even remember how to RP anymore, let alone sum up the brainpower to do it. I've resorted to trolling 4chan for hentai lately to help feed my thirst for fucked up plotlines. Thankfully, 4chan always delivers. God bless the internets.

But, I guess that's what hard work's all about. Speaking of which; break's over. Back into this shit.

Dead as my body was, I was often fascinated by the twitch of my cock when I heard her hiss at me, like that. Struck dumb by how swiftly the line went dead, it took me a few moments to gather my thoughts enough to hang the hotel telephone back upon the hook.

Turning, I focused on the eyes upon me, as was expected after such an interruption. Annoyed by the stunned stare of the neonate apprentice as she gaped at the slowly growing tent within my robes, I lashed out.

"Snuff that candle before you set the whole goddamned room on fire."

I moved past her, stepping carefully over the intricate markings of salt that marked the floor where the carpet had been ripped free of the room. The summoning of Sponge Bob Squarepants would undoubtedly have to wait. The thought was sour upon my mind as I began to rummage within my suitcase for where I'd tucked my own cell phone. Taking it into hand, I dialed a number, and waited.

"Come on, Jezebel.. Pick up."

Quiet.. but only for so long. Sometimes, the rageful outbursts from my gun only gave way to the howling screams of a man who'd lost his testicles. Of course, that was always far more barable to endure than his mocking laughter.

I turned to look behind me, expecting to see his putrid face twisted with glee and mirth, but there was nothing. Just the sound of his voice. My teeth could shatter, for how hard I clenched them.

The night had started so well, too.

I forced myself to look at the ground as I began to walk... knowing in my mind where I should be headed, but making no conscious effort to move in any kind of direction. It was not that I was relying on a skill to find my way to where my answers were.. but I had faith that eventually I would stumble across something familiar.

The buzzing of my phone jiggled against my breast after a few moments, and as I passed by a coffee shop that was just flicking it's lights on to begin the day, I considered simply letting it ring. Even as my thumb slid against the slick, vitae stained plastic.

Alone? Not alone? What was the difference? Thoughts were little jolts of lightning between dead brain cells. But the blood that flowed down? Now that was something real. Something that needed to be addressed, and that right soon. Dragging my fingers along my tongue, I sucked up that errant liquid like it was anything else that would keep me alive. Skills long dead came into play as I held up and leaned back against a wall to collect myself.

The bloodstains on my phone didn't much register to me as I punched the numbers.

"Jezebel? What the hell. I was in the middle of a very complicated summoning."

Baring my teeth in a rage that came unbidden, I heard the phone start to creak with the force that my fingers exerted. Jabbing a fingertip at midair, my voice dropped to a hideous little hiss that I could hear overmodulating the microphone.

"Shut your mouth, boy. I just had my throat cut by something invisible. Make something of it before I forget why I keep you alive. Love you."

Shoving the phone disdainfully back into my bra along with the dirty cash, I wiped again at the slowly healing nicks on my neck and started back off down the street. There were places to get cleaned up and places to hide. Neither of these things much interested me, though. I wanted answers.

And goddamn it if I wouldn't shut Sam up with the business end of a .45 if he didn't quiet down.

Like a storm, my thoughts became jumbled. So clear and focused, only to be thrust again into such a panicked state of madness. These lucid states.. they never really last long.

The echo of my heels as they pounded into the wet ground beneith me served as a tempo to begin to calm my nerves. When I finally had mind to glance up and look around me, my surroundings had changed, and I could not recall where I was, anymore. Such a thing should have concerned me, perhaps.. but the slick, wet feel of black vitae as it dripped down my throat called for more acknowledgement.

I pressed my hand there, sopping up the sticky mess with my palm, lip curling into an awkward little smile as I considered what Jeriah might say if I told him what I'd experienced. Was I actually -alone- in my mind? Or was I falling down some strange road of maddness that only sucks in the most unfortunate of my kind?

Sam won't stop laughing, now..

Imagine my surprise when the image in the window started to move. We could have been sisters if not for the way that her hair fell around her face. Her hair never did that, no matter how hard we tried to force it around the hot iron. Always so damned mousy. But that image couldn't have been me. I wasn't moving like it was.

But it still seemed so damned real.

A chipped fingernail raised up, that apparition seeming to point to something beside her. As though to indicate where the door was or perhaps to indicate a thing that could not be see, she aimed that finger over to the side. My fingers dug into my palm as I stared at this window, oblivious to the muttered statements of the other people in the place. The slurping of coffee and the clinking of little pieces of flatware rubbing on plates had all but evaporated in the appearance of this thing.

Her finger hooked back along her own throat, dragging that nail across it and leaving a razor thin crimson mark behind it. She hadn't been pointing at anything. Just preparing to evacuate soul. My hand flew to my throat and unable to regard another moment, I fled into the night streets.

Anywhere but there.

Bits and Pieces. (A story..)

People hardly ever pause to consider where they're going with their lives. Moments pass us by as quickly and fleeting as thoughts.. one happening after another, with such insignifigance, that we hardly take moments to piece them together and make a full sentence out of a jumble of words.

That's the thought that went through my mind as my fingers smoothed the worn fabric of my skirt back down over my hips. The warmth I felt between my thighs, and the itch of crumpled bills tucked against my right breast was a sad reminder of what had gotten me to the place I was now.. like a bitter example of my previous thought. I'd be a liar if I didn't say I smiled a bit in self mockery.

When I turned to grab my purse from where I'd dropped it to the ground, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a dirty window. I thought about pausing to inspect the ragged display of my image, but instead, I found myself squinting and leaning forwards to look past the illusion of a mirror that bright lights could give off.

(To Be Continued...)

Just like that, weirdness happens..

The strangest thing happened to me, today. I was on the bus, minding my own business and gaping openly at Justin's Doppelganger as I seem to be running into him quite often, these days. I felt something buzz on my lap, and thinking it was my cellphone telling me something, I reached into my pocket.

Nothing. No messages. No voicemails. No missed calls.

Back to gaping.

And then I feel something buzz, again. Intrigued, and realizing that this pleasing sensation was actually coming from my purse, I reach into the pocket that I sometimes stash my phone, only to find this weird alien cellphone sitting there.

Now, I drunkenly lost my phone at a friend's house over the weekend, so I think: no problem. I'll just call Alisha and see if anyone is missing their phone.

Turns out, Nope.

So.. now I'm really confused. Time goes by.. and I feel this alien phone buzzing again. Oh! A call! So I answer it.

An odd little conversation occurs, in which a man sounds rather confused as to why a woman is talking to him. I can only imagine this is because well.. this isn't my phone. After about five minutes of explaining, I finally let this man know that no, I am not 'Marty', and no.. I have no idea where this telephone has come from.

He kindly informs me that he'll let Marty know who has his phone. At this point, I play the waiting game, again.

And another call comes in. I answer, only to find that I am now speaking to the actual owner of this phone. This is a good sign. I politely ask him if he was at Alisha's party over the weekend. Nope.

"I live in Cloverdale..." he explains.

That's funny. I haven't been anywhere near that area in some time.

"Well, were you at the Celtic Times on Saturday?" I ask eagerly.

"No, I was at a football game..."

Huh. Now it is starting to get weird. How the fuck did I get this phone!?

The conversation goes on.. each of us absolutely bemused as to how I ended up with his phone in the first place. Finally, I agree to meet him at a gas station across the street from campus on my lunch break so that I can return his ill-begotten cellphone.

I bring a small army of friends with me. I'm not a dumb girl. I know that sometimes people do strange things in the hopes of luring pretty young women into their grasp, so I had backup. When the man rolls up in his truck, I'm hoping to recognize him. To get some sort of inkling as to -how- I ended up with his telephone in my purse.

I've never seen this person before in my -life-.

It was a rather anticlimactic exchange, to be honest. I handed him the phone, he asked me if I knew a man named 'Darrel', which I do, but it wasn't the Darrel he was asking about.. and then he drove off.

Didn't even say thank-you.

At the end of all of this.. I keep thinking to myself, that I am probably going to go to my grave..never knowing how the hell I got ahold of that damned phone.

Let's see, here..

So Justin reminded me yesterday that while I give him shit for never blogging.. I actually hardly ever do it myself, anymore.

Out of fear of being a hypocrite, here I am.

So it's occurred to me that I worry too much. I've observed the massive workload that is being handed off to me, and then I make a list of what I need to have done over the weekend. It's a big list. Something huge and blood-pressure raising.

Every weekend, I sit on my ass eating cheetos, watching Season 5 episodes of House, and drinking obscene amounts of tea. Every hour or so, I do some homework, then go back to my usual tactic of fucking around and doing nothing. By the time the weekend closes, I've gotten about half my list of homework done, and I spend Monday morning chewing down my fingernails.

Then I look at my schedule. Is everything that needs to be turned in done? Yes. Do I have time over the week to finish other things? Yes. Is my head on fire, and am I going to die? No.

Then what the fuck am I so worried about?

I think I could use a chill pill.

Details, and more details

I woke up today contemplating doing something very, very stupid. I don't think I've thought about hurting myself in order to get out of work in a very long time and it seems that the time had come for me to go and think about it again. In my infinite wisdom, I sat in bed and wondered what kind of injury would be most believable but with as little pain and disabling as possible.

I realized that my little toe might have to someday take one for the team. And I have two of them. That's like two days off in the bank, courtesy of God and my parents. They won't be tracking those in any HR department. This, I know.

I feel it slipping.. I feel it slipping away.

Accumulated Amortization upon my Sanity has been Debited to my Amortization of Sanity Expense account. D:

No time for old habits.

The silence. It's deafening.

I need to get used to this. :(

Update, just to keep sane.

I broke down and drank a Redbull, today. Either I'm depressed about something, or my body simply refuses to allow me to get motivated about anything. I figure getting 'high' on Caffeine will finally kick me into gear. Seems to have done the trick so far..

I started an 'Impromptu Yellow Plum Venture' last night in Lorene's kitchen. It happened after a shift at work where Dave handed over an entire case of random yellow plums the new owner left for him. He didn't want to do anything with them. Not so bad, I consider. Should make an interesting brew.

So.. this summer I've created, thus far: Fruit Medley v1.0 (Huckleberry, Salmon Berry, Strawberry, Blueberry, and Cherry), Fruit Medley v2.0 (Cherry, White Nectarine, Blackberry, Raspberry), 2 different batches of Blueberry, a Bing Cherry Port, Blackberry (of which I will be doing another batch, pending picking of, today), and this 'Plum Venture'. My mind whirls at the amount of bottles I'll be labeling and packing away in boxes. I think I might be in over my head, here.

School starts in a week. I have all my books. (650$ of them. Fuckers.), and they're heavy. Not just physically, but just.. loaded with all sorts of useful information I can't fathom wrapping my head around. I guess I'm going to have to.

Jason told me that I have the worst possible teacher for Microeconomics. He even offered his sympathies. This didn't do much to ease my nerves about the whole ordeal.. but I suppose I'm prepared in the way that I know she's going to be a giant pain in my ass.. so I can treat the class accordingly. Maybe with the concept that I must teach myself everything in this class firmly in mind.. I'll be prepared enough to pass at a reasonable grade. I'll find out soon enough.. *chuckles*

My ex-boyfriend, Lachlan, contacted me on LJ and we struck up a conversation, recently. After about.. 10 years of stony silence. This caused me to go and find another one of my dearest friends from my wacky childhood. He's going through a giant pile of shit in his life, apparently, and it makes me feel pretty bad for him. I'm also upset at myself for having lost contact with Eric, cause from what I can remember, we used to be pretty tight. It really chokes me up, though, that I didn't get to take this trip out to MN during the summer. It would have been really.. cool to take him out for a few beers so we could fuck around and make sick jokes about Masturbation all day. Just like the old days.

Ah, Nostalgia.

Goddamn, I love the internet.

I figured since I haven't posted in a while, that it might be that time again. Yaknow.. to post.

I was talking tonight, to this girl whom I haven't spoken to since she showed up on my doorstep at 14 years of age asking me for money to buy tampons. In my ignorance, I likely lent her drug money, but that just goes to show how very kind I can be to my friends.

Regardless, after she left me with a bad taste in my mouth, and a heaping chunk of self esteem ripped from my gut, I never really thought much of her until she found me on Facebook. Now, as we discuss where life has taken the both of us, I'm left with another strange taste in my mouth.

This flavor? Kind of like the taste you get when you look up to see God and realize that the universe is awesome, right after you're done wiping his jizz off of your lips.

I'll scoot on past the concept that it's completely cool to be able to find and talk to people I haven't in 10 years. We know how satisfying that can be. No, no folks.. I'm gonna sit right down and settle with the idea that it's goddamned cool to see where everyone I know from highschool has FAILED.

Yes. I am that petty.

There's the odd one or two who's just as spectacular as I remember them, of course. But I can't help but find some kind of sick satisfaction when I see the 'popular' girl in school has gained 100 lbs, and has an ugly boyfriend. Or that someone else I used to know and respect has the literary skills of a drunken chimpanzee.

And how many people do I know from highschool who've degraded into that creepy entity otherwise known as "Mommy" or "Daddy"?! You know, the weird obsessive parent that only posts about their children? It's downright disturbing when I see people that I used to bullshit in Art class with talking about how they're waiting to get their kids back from an estranged other-parent who has a restraining order out against them.

Fucked up shit.

I guess my point here, is that seeing how far my 'peers' have come.. only makes my minimal accomplishments all the more gratifying.

Yay! Go me!

Annie's Haiku of the Day:

A saddened Newfag,
Laptop without numberpad,
I cannot Triforce.

[Crossposting]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_virtues#Roman_virtues

From now on, all of my roleplay characters will embody one of these virtues totally and completely. I could point out how some of them already are but that's not the point. I'd like to see some backbone in my characters and I think this is going to be what does it.

These summer nights.

6 minutes and counting until I need to leave for work. The bags under my eyes could likely hold a week's worth of luggage, and I am too lazy to cover them with makeup. (Not that it would stay on well in this heat, mind you.)

After over a week of not being able to sleep more than 5 hours, or eat more than a scrawny meal a day, I've found that I've lost 5 lbs. Surprising, honestly.. but part of me actually likes the outcome. I can fit into my sexiest pair of black pants more comfortably, now, and the chub upon my stomach has receeded a small bit.

Nice to know that if I watch my diet a little better (Okay, this case is extreme) I can probably slim down just a bit.

The lack of sleep thing, however, isn't something I appreciate in the least. Last night was one of those nights where you try to sleep; wake up due to a disturbing or intense dream, and sit awake for 2 more hours with your mind racing in that space between dreaming and consciousness. I've been on sleeping pills, before, and knowing what it's like to be in that place, and as pleasant as it can be, sometimes.. I know that when I have to wake up in 5, 4, 3, 2, or 1 hours.. the anxiety of knowing my day will be ass doesn't allow me to really enjoy it.

Maybe it's coffee getting back at me. "Come on, have a sip again.." she says.. over and over and over again, until I realize I'm hooked once more.

Curses!

Alright, time to put on some socks and catch a bus. @_@

Life's a lemon and I want my money back.

Oh, where do I start?

I'm still at work. I don't know if I even want to go home at this point in time. So many thoughts in my head, and such a tiny keyboard.

I spout out my musings to internetland, because the saddest thing about being the strong person people to to vent their problems to, is that no one is ever there for you when you need a shoulder to lean on. I suppose that's part of my problem, tonight.

To be honest, I'm really just writing to remind myself that I need to elaborate further later when I have a less maddening means to communicate.

Who knows? Maybe I will.

My turn already?!

Bumped into an old acquaintence, the other day. Someone I hadn't talked to, and scarcely thought about, until recently. Uncanny, how my thoughts can wander to a person I haven't considered encountering.. only hours before I manage to meet them, unscheduled, face to face.

We did that thing that people do when they're interested in catching up, but too busy or awkward to sit down right there and have coffee: Exchanged numbers and Facebook addresses.

I plan on doing a follow-up.

Things at work are falling apart, and quickly. I suppose that's what happens when it's purchased by someone who wants to take away privileges from the people who work there. For some strange reason, the cooks aren't allowed to eat free meals anymore. My Chef is not exactly pleased with this. I imagine everyone else is a little sore, too.

He told me he had applied for a job in a pub in Cloverdale. Then he asked me if I'd work with him there, if he got it. I said yeah, but he'd have to pay me more money. *chuckle*

The truth? I'd follow him there in a heartbeat. Even though my quitting date for working is fastly approaching (Less than two months!)

I'm nervous and scared. I'm also sad about it. But, I'm sure I'll get over the first two quickly.

The workout. See, I had walked into that place expecting to be dwarfed by men much burlier than myself. To be crushed beneath their heels, to have my underwear driven up into my colon via wedgie and to be thrown into a locker. What did I find? A bunch of motherfuckers that looked just like me.

One kid even started following me to ask me how my workout routine worked. I was like "Man, it's a free PDF. Gimmie your email address and I'll send it to you." He seemed pleased. Then I actually tried to workout routine.

I now want nothing more than death.

My leg muscles are all sore and failing, my arms and chest are all sore and failing. But goddamned if it didn't feel good to go to the shower after the fact. To wash off all of the sweat (of which there was a lot) and to get myself back to being like a human... God, that was nice.

So next time, I add 5lb to the bar and do it again. Then the next time, I add 5lb to the bar and do it again until I stall out. Then I back off 10% on the weight and try again with the +5 every time until I get to 1.5x my body weight on a squat. Then I can stay there a while since you should never have to move more than that amount of weight alone anyway.

It's strength training. Not GET TO DA CHOPPA training.

Go, Annie!

It's that magical day. You know, the one that feels all 'personal' to someone, and they desperately hope it will be better than all of the others.

I find I've become jaded, over the years.

I was much more excited on Saturday. That.. was the big day of the Masquerade. I spent 50 dollars on my hair, and an hour and a half getting dressed.. but the results were always pleasing. I get such a thrill when I walk into a room, and people look at me and say "Wow". It's like I managed to bump my App rating a dot or two just because I put in a little extra effort.

I danced, a little. My Heterosexual Life-Mate danced much more than me (Fucking harlots). I mostly spent the night desperately trying to catch up with people I haven't seen for a year. It made me really sad to realize just how much I've lost touch with my social group because of my work schedule.

The mantra of the season seems to be: "Oh, well, I won't have that problem, come September."

Oddly enough? It's a really soothing thought.

Drivel: Online.

The posting proceeds.

We went to a few jewelry stores today, checking up on rings that we might want.

This is the ring I picked.

I think it looks very steampunk. Anya's looking for a ring to match or compliment it and having a tougher time of it. But, here's where the story comes in:

We were in the store and the woman who sat down across from us to start showing us rings goes "So? How did you meet?" and we're like "Uhh... Here and there." and kinda glossed over it. Then she told us that there was a contest for who had the best and most interesting 'how did you meet' stories for the employees there. Apparently whoever was given the best story got something.

So we got to work. And told the truth.

"We were at an Vampire LARP and Anya was someone's ghoul. That's a servant. Then I poached said ghoul. That means take them out of someone else's service and put them into your own by feeding them blood. So we fell in love, then."

"...well. Isn't that special?"

Shit that goes on in my mind.

Today was a strange one. I thrust myself into a room of people that, once upon a time, I looked up to. In a way someone would admire a hero or a fatherly figure. I sat around a kitchen table stuffing my face with foods that I don't even know the names of as I babbled about my experiences outside of a place that these people never left.

When I was at this place with them, working, they always told me that I needed to get my head out of the clouds and find new experiences. Here, I had. I kind of felt accomplished.. and hell, I've hardly started.

Part of me feels ashamed that I'm stepping out of the kitchen for good. I wonder if that makes me a failure because I couldn't hack it. But.. I don't think I would have changed anything, looking back.

Later on, I flaked out on someone I said I was going to RP with so that I could continue spending time with my friends. I went to Ashley's house and met her pet chickens. I was extremely envious. I've always wanted pet chickens. I picked them up, and played with them... and even found an egg!

It was a nice day.

5 days until I'm 28. I think I finally know how it feels to dread getting older.. but I could just be making a big deal out of nothing. It's not that I've lost my youth.. but I think I just see the time I have left to enjoy it.. slipping away. Thankfully, I don't plan on having kids, so maybe I can make the most out of 'adulthood' when I think I've finally reached it..

It's raining outside. It's been raining all day. The sound kind of makes me sleepy. There's a man in bed pissed at me beause I'm not in there with him.. but I couldn't really bring myself to sleep just yet. But, now that I've rambled on to the endless, quiet space of the internets.. I feel I may be ready, now.

Good night, world.

Unwilling Siren

Men confuse the hell out of me. I've found over time, that even though I am not the most.. attractive person in the world (Okay, I'm pretty damn hot when I try..), I have various men infatuated with me without me doing much of anything to provoke them.

Since I've been working at a pub, it's gotten worse. There is a.. number of regular customers whom I've had my co-workers describe as 'in love' with me. Why? I haven't the faintest. I don't wear makeup half the time. I don't do my hair. Hell, I hardly even dress to please the eye.. yet somehow, because I can put back a pint or two in a sitting, and have a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush.. I have this small pack of grown men drooling at the sight of me.

Now, it's spread to co-workers. (Or at least.. 15 year old dishwashers. The thought makes me cringe and giggle at the same time)

It makes me wonder what I could do to people if I actually -wanted- that sort of attention.

In other news, I'll be 28 in a month. That fuckin' scares the hell out of me. I keep wondering how I got so old.. and then keep reminding myself that I'm not really old, yet. Then I keep wondering how long I'm gonna keep looking young.. and start counting down the days until my ass sags, my face wrinkles, and I gain 300 lbs. I've already started getting grey hair. D:

Regardless.. I'm celebrating this year by getting my nipples pierced. Yep. Both of them. It's gonna be grand.

Annie's Haiku of the Day:

Nazis on tv,
Talking about Jew Problems,
Saturday Morning.

Lemme push up on that.

I woke up this morning with the sense that today might be the rest of my life. Not that I'm going to die or anything but that today will be the template for the rest of my days.

So I went nuts.

I got up and bathed all luxuriously. Shaved my face with soft cream and did my hair all nice. Put on some fine clothing and pet my cats who were both starved for my attention. Drank some orange juice which was delightfully cold.

Fell down my stairs. My car smelled like ass. There was a huge truck broken down across the street where I'm supposed to turn. The radio played no good music and it was all sunglare the whole way.

Is this really the template for my life? I'd give it a D+.

Me, and my split personalities.

I've stopped drinking coffee. I realized that the dependency I had on caffeine as a drug was a drag. Withdrawal kept me from waking up easily in the morning, and without it, I was an unruly, angry bitch. This is the most successful I've been at the attempt, than in the past. I find myself.. not really craving the tasty warm drink, but rather the warmness I get from it. I am cold and sad in my chair after waking up at 6am (naturally. O_O) and I don't want to make tea because I know I'll just be putting drugs in me.

Last night I went to an APICS meeting with my Heterosexual Life Mate. I was rightfully angry at the idea that his one evening home after not seeing him for so long was gobbled up by responsibilities beyond my hungering vagina, so I tagged along. Deciding to venture out into the business world displayed to me what I would be getting into come the future: Overwhelming boredom.

I suppose I'll be less bored once I understand half of what these Operations Management nerds are talking about, but regardless I came to a startling conclusion about my new chosen path in life:

I'm not appropriate. My active mental state is Not Safe For Work. The filters I must apply to my mind and mouth are astonishing to the point where I don't even really consider myself to be in the room half the time, but instead, locked up in a tiny part of my brain as I spew out words like some kind of politically correct robot.

I wonder if there will come a time where I filter myself so much that I lose touch with my sense of humor. I'm hoping not. But then again, the internet will always be my outlet, so long as I am cautious enough to know how to hide my fiery text.

Annie's Haiku of the Day:

I tenderly touch,
What I can't rightly afford,
Strippers don't like that.

A bit of TMI...

I haven't really gotten.. sick, for some time. People I know run around with various viruses.. coughing, sneezing, puking, and doing all sorts of things which in turn gets everyone else around them sick, but thus far I've been.. immune. (Here's where I knock on wood)

Beginning to believe I am impervious to virii, I go about my day merrily as people sniffle and groan.. knowing that when I get a sore throat, chances are it'll be gone by the next day and I'll be drinking in celebration of my victory.

But then something like -this- happens. My body decides that it shall scoff in the face of -normal- diseases.. easily bypassing the common cold, flu, and other things floating in the air around me.. in favor of things far more.. vile.

Bacteria is the bane of my exsistence. When I get sick, I get SICK. I cough up things I'd rather not describe. Things itch that -shouldn't-, and my wallet suffers because I inevitably have to medicate because some things, I just can't handle on my own.

I'd never pissed blood before this, and I am willing to eagerly describe the situation as.. downright unpleasant.

My insides are swollen. It hurts to move. My back is sore. Foul smelling things are coming out of me.. and all these things, while utterly unpleasant (let alone uncomfortable) lead me to believe that my kidneys have decided to wage war upon my body. Which is something downright TERRIFYING.

Pain killers are my friends until tomorrow morning, at which time a nice little Japanese man will give me magic pills that I must choke down to wage biological warfare upon the organisms invading my system. Normally I do not look forward to the offer of antibiotics.. but in this case, I believe any sort of relief is welcome.

Even if I have to choke down yogurt for a month.

Surprisingly, I still haven't missed a day of work. Holy fuck am I a trooper.

Annie's Haiku of the Day:

My thoughts are fleeting,
They return to old places,
That once brought comfort.

... hey, Justin.. you ever gonna write in this thing, again? o_O

Only in Dreams.

I had a dream last night that I wasn't accepted into BCIT. It didn't really bother me in the land of dreams, but when I woke up, I realized how crushing something like that would be to me.

I've put all my energy and motivation into preparing to go to college, that I haven't yet considered what I might do if I don't get in for the fall semester. I'm set on quitting my job in August. I've been working massive amounts of overtime just to fund my unemployment for 2 years starting in September. My mental health and happiness has begun to focus on the relief of actually having a 9-5, Mon-Fri schedule.

I'd be crushed if I don't get in. Absolutely.

I guess this means I should start preparing for the worst-case scenario.. you know, just in case. Until I get that letter of acceptance into hand, anyway. (Not that I'm honestly all that worried.. but it has been a little unsettling that I haven't gotten it, yet.)

In other news, it's been a month, at least, since I've shaved my arms. It's a strange sensation to have hair on a part of my body. I don't think I like it.

Annie's Haiku of the Day:

Time is running short,
I must make Haiku quickly,
My bus will not wait.

Wine, wine, wine..

You never really know how much you drink until you look back at all the damage it's done to your liquor reserves.

I sorted out my 'cellar', today. After having over 60 bottles of wine in my house (Vieux Chateau du Roi and Vidal Icewine) I managed, finally, to hide 10 bottles of each away to age safely. This left myself and my Heterosexual Life-Mate 3 bottles of each to consume. Careful calculation suggests that I have 13 bottles of each left.. from an original 30.

Where did they all go?!

Now, before I consider myself a raging alcoholic (Really, there's no room to be an alcoholic when I'm already a raging coke head) I do have to realize that I am incapable of being entirely selfish, and I HAVE given a lot of this shit away. (My friends, you are lucky people) But..I know for damn sure I didn't give away 17 bottles of each. My liver suggests I hardly gave away more than 10 of each kind.

Me, a lush..

So if we say I've consumed over 7 bottles of (My own, not counting other wines L has been pushing on me), that's still quite a bit of liquor consumed over the past month and a half. A bottle of wine can last me 2 to 3 days if I only stick to 2 glasses a day.


Whoa.

Oh yeah.. did I mention I have 5 more kits (at 30 bottles each) on the go? My poor, poor liver..

Annie's Haiku of the Day:

Can't shake this feeling,
Skin is crawling at night time,
Scared of my shadow.

Surreal Haiku

Because I promised:

Neighborhood children,
They come to me for candy,
And I love them so.

On a lonely night,
I go to see my children,
Nuzzled in their beds.

Quiet and so dark,
Just a little bit dusty,
Inside my crawlspace.

----------------------------------------------


Smackin' my bitches,
Cappin' niggas for da Hos,
Hardcore Pimpin' life.


----------------------------------------------

Rotting in the sky,
Sharpened pole through private parts,
Medieval Torture!

------------------------------------------------

Sometimes I am proud,
And I can do anything!
My mom says I'm cool.

-----------------------------------------------

Wailing on my axe,
Wind blows through my silken clothes,
I am a Ninja.

-----------------------------------------------

It is now time for me to get ready for work. Enjoy the Haiku. :)

Unrestful

So I bottled my wine, last night. -My- wine. Not something I was making for anyone but myself. It was nice. I made my own little labels and everything, which are sickeningly sentimental, but likely just funny to anyone who doesn't understand them.

I also got way too drunk.

My long awaited 3 day weekend is over, and I feel not a bit as rested as I should. Possibly because I didn't take any time to sit back and relax. Whoops. Oh well, back into the work week head-first, for me. Maybe I'll get lucky and catch the aids so I can finally have a day for myself. Of course, that would require more unprotected sex with hookers on my part. Oh darn.

I'm glad the holidays are over. I've been getting tired of everyone around me whining about how terrible everything is. For a season that's supposed to be filled with loving thy family/neighbor/brother/sister/friend, people sure do get bugs up their asses. It's like everyone is so resentful of all the things they feel like they're forced into doing, that they forget to be happy when they're actually -supposed- to be. We'll see what the new year brings. If it's anything like last, mine will be spectacular; save that everyone around me will be writhing in agony.

Maybe I should consider myself blessed.. but I just keep thinking about how I would trade my good luck in life to everyone around me just to see someone smile, again. It's depressing being the only person you know who's not depressed. Whoops. Oxymoron.

I've been looking for something to distract myself with, lately. Haven't really found anything. Watching Deadwood, again, as there's so much it appears that I missed. It's like reading a good book over again. Maybe I'll set aside some more time to get more involved with it, until I find a good video game to play. Mm. That would be nice.

Annie's Haiku of the Day:

An occupied mind,
Distracted so easily,
Doesn't feel as much.