GLOSTIX: A Blogfeed!

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…is not my life. If anyone who stumbles across this blog (or, gasp, follows it closely) is not aware, I am currently pursuing a degree at the University of Kentucky. Though there were a handful of institutions I would have rather attended, I chose this school for no other reason than its geographical accessibility — it was the closest college to my original place of residence. After my first semester, I knew I had made a terrible choice. But I pressed on, keeping my eyes leveled on my goal: a degree. Liking the program in which I’m enrolled, or the people who attend this university, is not as important as graduating.

This semester, however, has been a horrific experience. I have seen so many unsettling things, and I honestly loathe the fact that I have three more school-terms to survive (four, if you count the summer session… and I don’t, just to keep my blood-pressure within normal range).

TL;DR version: If you’re thinking about going to the University of Kentucky, don’t. Do yourself a favor and mark it off your list immediately. If you’re at all interested in reading the reasoning, though… click through.

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You bet your sweet ass this is going on the fridge.

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Originally published at g l o s t i x. Please leave any comments there.

Morning coffee and your daily routine, be it class or work, do not really mix. You chug a mug, and rush out the door to meet the day, and then WHAM. The coffee starts working your innards, and you’re trapped in Public Bathroomland. You either A) make use of the onsite facilities, knowing that everyone in proximity will hate you forever, or B) wiggle around in intestinal agony, spending your entire day dreaming of the moment when you finally reach the Holy Land of Poo.

It’s a right horrible ordeal to go through.

But I think it should be noted, right here, right now, that the almost zenlike feeling of finally making it to your personal potty party is really, very worth the wait.

I feel like I could solve some problems now. I feel like I could save some people now. I feel… like I could change the world. I really, honestly, truly could. One poo at a time.

Thank you and God Bless.

Originally published at g l o s t i x. Please leave any comments there.

Originally published at g l o s t i x. Please leave any comments there.

According to the USPS, we have a new person living with us here in #83. Some cat called Terrance Johnson. Well, I’m sure this fucker is a nice fella, and I hold nothing against him (which isn’t really readily apparent from the fact that I called him a “fucker” just now, but if he’s old enough to be living outside his parents domain, I suppose he is old enough to technically be a “fucker”). Just drop it in the outbox with a small note that says “wrong fucking address, fucktards”, and that’s the end of that.
Well, until I check the mail today. Nothing for our new “imaginary roomie”, but the mailman saw fit to tag our box with a little card that lists the residents. The first name being this “Johnson” fucker. Then mine and Kev’s. And they misspelled Kev’s name. Now, this in and of itself is not really a big deal, and it is something I imagine I’ll get very much used to in future days, but it was the fact that they fucked it up so badly, AND decided that they were absolutely RIGHT about this Johnson-fucker living here, SO VERY RIGHT about it that they listed him as the FIRST RESIDENT OF THE GODDAMNED RAGE SPIT HATE AND RRRRRRRRRRGH.
Yeah. It just kind of… pissed me off.
So I kind of ripped up the little “residents” card and left them a nice note. Which is much much nicer than the first two (the absolute first being a rather delicious collection of four-letter no-no words).

I hope this is the end of the whole “Johnson” debacle, because the next time this happens, I’ll likely be carted off to jail for defacing a mailbox.

The news of the day isn’t all bad. I finally got around to dropping by sQecial to pick up a carton of cloves. I really wish I could’ve bought a second, but hopefully we’ll find a friendly overseas supplier before we run out entirely.

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Yeah yeah, I really need to post more than just videos every now and then, but there are some things that just need sharing. And as soon as my bank account recovers from paying last month’s mobile bill, I’m snagging that track off Amazon and making it my new obsession.

I love The Guild. Love.

Anyway, news… news. Eh. School is coming up next week (gasp, oh noes). Later this week, I have “pre-employment testing” to go to, for whatever that means. I don’t even rate an interview. I just get tested. THE REAL WORLD IS JUST LIKE COLLEGE LOL. Oh, and I love a guy who hits you with flowers, chocolates and love notes, all on separate occasions, but well within a week’s time. Ok, so the chocolates were M&M’s, but I LIKE THEM OKAY. THEY WERE YUMMY. And also a surprise, so I count them! Officially. Hehe.

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Want to hear a joke? Ok. Radiohead, [Your Favourite Hippie Stoner Band Here], and Faust walk into a bar…

PUNCHLINE: These Are My Twisted Words  (Advance / Leak / 2009)

Well. If this is really genuine, at least Phil still knows how to play drums.

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H’okay, so. It seems that ever since I started taking Ortho-Cyclen, my moods had greatly improved during the three weeks of pillnommin’. More high-spirited than usual, skipping around all tra-la-la like, and everything was good. Better than usual. But then on the off week, I would always take a total nose-dive and be highly irritable, crying, screaming, depressed and all sorts of nasty things. I didn’t notice how serious it was, or that it even was cyclical, until Kev moved in and I started paying more attention to my behaviour. After our most recent blow-up event, I realized that it happens every single time. Not PMS or PMDD, because it doesn’t “fade shortly before your period”, but started as soon as my progesterone dropped low enough to start insulting my uterus’ interior decorator.

I decided that I’d try a little experiment this month, and just not go off the pill at all. And so far, it seems to be working. Not being a totally raging hormonal bitch, AND helping to save our environment by not littering landfills with feminine hygiene products? Pretty sweet. Getting cancer because I of taking birth control nonstop? Yeah, well, who needed a uterus anyway? To the garbage heap with that worthless POS!

Now, it makes me wonder. I reckon this little experiment is suggestive that I will be a wonderful, happy, bubbly Miss Optimistic sort of person should I ever find myself in a knocked-up state. The post-partum depression is going to fucking kill me, though. So no screaming hellspawn until I can afford a full-time, live-in nanny for the first two or three months. I hope she cooks and cleans. I’d like that.

Originally published at g l o s t i x. Please leave any comments there.

…and I jizzed in my pants.

Needless to say, I cannot wait til March.

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…this year, I am quitting smoking. I think. Last time I quit was right after I got back home from my trip to St Pete in February. I can’t begin to say why I quit that time… whatever inspired me to do it, but it sort of worked for a few months until I realized that buying cigarettes at your friendly corner convenience store was a somewhat easier (and a lot more legal) than buying Xanax at your friendly corner convenience store. So now that I only have one month left before class starts (read: one month left before I’m covered by University Health Services and can legally obtain said Xanax), I figured it’s a good time to try again.
Actually, I’m only doing it because Kev said he was going to try. But he seems determined to be self-defeating, which is going to make it all the more hard on me. Because yes, this is all about me and I’m the centre of the universe here.

Anyway. I’ve had since April to officially apply to the College of Social Work at UK, and I finally did my entrance essay just this morning… less than a week before I have to have it turned in. Luckily I can deliver it by hand, so I know it’ll hit their desk(s) before the first.

Finally, it takes a special kind of girl to fuck up Tuna Helper. And I am a very special sort of lady. What should’ve been cheesy noodles with tuna has been transformed into yellow mushslop with tuna flakes and burnt bits. I am not happy about this. But at least the salad part of dinner was okay. It’s just impossible to jack up lettuce.

Originally published at g l o s t i x. Please leave any comments there.

Speaks for itself, I do say.

Nothing to report today, I’m afraid.  Just some cleaning here and there… sat and watched some Buffy for a while.  Still need to do this thing with laundry, what where you hang it up or at least put it away in some form or fashion after cleaning it, but I’ve been nursing a sore shoulder since Monday morning.  Is this a good excuse for not doing what I should?  Well, I’ve seemed to let it make sense in my mind.

Keep in mind, things in my mind rarely make sense to anyone else.  But that’s ok.

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And they all lived… happily ever after? Kudos to this photographer for ruining everything we cherished about a childhood with Disney. Goodness knows that’s one of my favourite pastime activites, anyway. More images @ JPGmag.com

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The story goes like this: I have a website called glostix.  Kev likes the name.  He jokes about getting his own website with a similar sounding name, so we can be a matched pair.  I say, well hey, why bother with that when you could just be part of glostix too?  And he’s like, oh hey, ok! So I set glostix up to be a joint-blog, with a shiny new layout, rearranging all of the pages (permanently jacking up orders and numbers of said pages), and WHAM!  We has a blog.  Except… nothing.  Nudge after careful nudge, prods, prompts, strong hints and suggestions, nothing.  Which has brought me to this day, when I just sort of gave up.

So now everything is back the way it was.  Leading horses to water, etc.

In other news, I still can’t find a job.  I’ve thrown out countless applications and resumes, gotten callbacks, interviewed, did my thang for nothing.  I’m starting to worry less and less about it, though.  Even though it pisses me off that everyone is looking for “experience” but no one is willing to give a girl a chance to GET experience, it’s not worth stressing myself over.  I wish I figured that out before I started smoking again, because now I have to quit all over again, which is surely going to make my “don’t stress it” attitude hard to stick with. Still, not stressing the lack of work.  If we can survive til the start of next semester, we’ll be just fine.

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What’s the point of a blog if you don’t blog?

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Going home is good. Got two meals I didn’t have to cook (ok, I had to put a burger on the grill, but that’s hardly ‘cooking’), two loads of laundry done, a few groceries courtesy of mom (riiiiiiiiiiice!), snuggle time with kitties, and time to just hang out.  Jeremy and the kids were there for a while, too.  I quite enjoyed myself.

Played in my garden for a while before dinner.  Two of three lavender plants are doing good… the other one looks kind of puny.  St John’s Wort is up and at ‘em… feverfew, spearmint, and peppermint are good… oregano is making a slow comeback… and I can already see the tiny little starts of columbine leaves.  Trimmed off all of last year’s dead shoots, cleared the redbud leaves (the nice thing about putting your garden under trees… it insulates it for the winter for you), loosened the soil and sprinkled it with fertilizer (read: chicken pooooo).  I’m not replacing anything that doesn’t recover… except maybe the sage. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with that, since I had to take it to the ground last year.  I might just pot a little bush out on the patio here, and bring over my smallest lavender bush.  Just depends.  I still haven’t gotten a handle on how much sun this place gets… but my little window herb planter dealie is already sprouting, so it must get some.

Tomorrow; read anthro book, study anthro exam, write cover letter.  IT NEVER ENDSSSS.

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Again, I say, long time no update. Um sorry. Busy, hectic, making ready, hauling ass, getting out, moving on, and making very little sense all along the way. For those of you who don’t know, and are not keeping track via LJ, I’m in Lexington now, trying to get things all dialed in and packed away before class starts back up on Monday. I doubt it’ll be entirely dialed, but I will, at least, have depressed and released a button or two. So far, only my nerves have gone kaboom… I guess that’s better than whatever else can happen with buttons.

The experience has been, so far, quite mixed. I’m happy even if I am at times quite terrified… partly due to nerves and partly due to the real mixbag we call “neighbours”. Most of the happiness is down to the fact that I’m surviving outside the next with minimal emotional hitches… anxiety increased but it’s been nowhere near as horrid as the other times I’ve been far from home. I think it’s due to my being stronger, and having much better support than I ever had before. Support which, god willing, should arrive within the fortnight, and perhaps lend a hand at being more supportive of my mammaries.

I’m earning an A in Narty.

The most pleasant thing about being in a more citylike environment is the fact that I have an intarweb connection which is worth a shit. The hell that is dial-up is finally behind me. Finally. I’ve been making friends with Netflix Instant Play, as well as catching up with all the glory of YouTube:

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Stuff has happened. All ye who follow my LJ have heard it all, since I have no secrets and tell no lies. I just rarely find anything to be publicly blogworthy until it all accumulates into this big ball of… accumulation. So how do I want to go about this, I wonder… hmm.

Well, the bad news. First and foremost.You’ll remember that my big white thundarrcat Moses passed at the end of this past summer. It was a shock to the system on so many levels… one in particular being that he bit it before Carmie, who I sometimes lovingly refer to as “Parkinson’s Kitty” and “Old Man Pants”. We always figured him to be older than Moses, so we always figured he’d move on first. When Moses went, we knew Carmie couldn’t be too far behind. This morning, about six months later, Carmie went. It’s… odd. I wasn’t there when it happened, and I didn’t “say goodbye” so I don’t have the image of his death in my mind. I also have the comfort of knowing that Mo is waiting for him. So… while it hurts… and I’ve suffered a wet face all day in private moments… I’m doing better with it than before.
Still. Of course. He will be greatly missed… and always fondly remembered. Love you, duder…

*sigh*

Shaking my hands out a bit, now. There is good news. I’m doing well in all of my classes, staying on top of things (and even ahead in some respects), so my academic life contributes only minimal amounts of stress to my general life. The worst thing about this semester is, still, the driving. But not for very much longer… bringing me to good news point number two: I’m moving to Lexington. I have my address, and a tentative move-in date in two weeks. I’m not sure when Kev is coming up to hang his hat, yet… hopefully not long after. It’ll be grand to be closer to campus, but it sure would suck to have to bimble around by my lonesome for too terribly long.

Other big news: My car broke 100k miles last week. Poor ol’ baby… I have to take it easy on her from now on, huh? Also, I’ve quit smoking. It’s been two weeks and two days since my last cigarette. Congratulate me, assheads. And finally, today is Kev’s birthday. Happy birthday again, babycaeks! Now fuckin’ blog somethin’ already!!

Originally published at g l o s t i x. Please leave any comments there.

Originally published at g l o s t i x. Please leave any comments there.

See this?  It’s snow.  Not only that, but do you see the glare?  On the ground?  From the trees?  Yeah, that’s ice.

That’s ice.

That’s ice, too.

Fuck yeeeah, I love winter!

x______O