I'm 24.

I've got a job. I pay my own bills. I've lived on my own for almost a year now.

I'm turning into an adult. Holy crap, when did that happen?

In light of my actually attempting to post when something interesting happens, I feel I should report.

I quit my job yesterday.

Well, I put in notice. My last day is Friday. I do not have another job lined up.

Part of me is absolutely fucking terrified by this. The last time, it took me nearly two years to find work, and now I'm actually living on my own and trying to support myself.

On the other hand, I hate my job. I mean, it's not terrible or anything. It's just dull and caging and I would really like to do something that is not slowly killing braincells.

(Add to the fact that my Cosmic Muffin is not terribly happy with my job either. "Your job sucks. Do something about it or we will." doesn't really leave a lot of room for interpretation.)

So, that's where I am at the moment. How are you?

Have been more or else warned by one of my supervisors that The Big Bosses are looking for a reason to get rid of me. They already fired one of my co-workers for an astonishingly stupid readon. This does wonders for my self-esteem, let me tell you.


But fear not, my friends, for I now know the truth. Nirvana will make you gay. So will Metallica, Eminem and The Doors.

I really, really want to say that site's a parody. Come on, they've got a goddamn Oscar Wilde quote on the header. No one can honestly be that clueless...right? Please?


Am contemplating deleting this journal. I rarely check it, almost never post in it, and I get tired of looking at my own whining. Could just be my moodswings talking, though, so we'll see. Just a heads up.

A short note to the interested parties on my flist:

Dir en Grey is apparently going to be playing around the corner from where I work. I'm not sure when this happened.

(Have I mentioned that I hate Times Square? Cause I do. A lot.)

I think I spent all morning dreaming about pinapple pizza. Clearly what this means is that I should attempt to eat dinner before I go to bed.

Went to see Children of Men with the parent-types yesterday. Three comments:
1. That is how you do a post-Apocalyptic story.
2. Clive Owen is God.
3. Go see this movie immediately.

Still no word on whether or not I will have a job next weekend. This week is going to be interesting.



Happy New Year, all you shiny, happy people. Whatever happened this year, I hope the next is nothing but better.

Okay. So I might be slightly musically elitist. But there are some incredibly stupid band names in existance. Seriously, if the name of your band is longer than most song titles, there is a problem somewhere (yeah, I'm looking at you, And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead).

Live, Air, Europe, Snow and HIM are on my shitlist too, though for a different reason.

On the other hand, if there's ever a game show where you need to know music trivia, I could probably clean up.

Speaking of work, tonight is the company Christmas party, which I am in no way bitter about not getting to go to. There's new Supernatural tonight, anyway, so I still win.

So there.

A very quick update on the State of Me:

-Am all moved into new apartment. Email with new address and phone number to follow, eventually.
-Work is boring.
-This week is sucking much like a superpowered vacuum cleaner.
-This morning, I accidentally punched myself in the face and gave myself a bloody lip.
-I fail at existing.
-I would like my favorite TV shows not to go into hiatus now, thanks very much.


I put this up on my fandom journal, but I figured I might as well put something over here, too. I'm giving out graphics again this year, so if you've got any requests (icons, journal headers, wallpapers, whatever) shout 'em out.

This morning I tried to prove that I am not completely useless and attempted to make my own lunch. And promptly sliced my finger open. Sometimes, I really do fail at life.

Things what I have learned this week:

Browsing the Ikea website is disturbingly like playing the Sims, only I can't cheat and get more money. Damnit. On the other hand, four-poster bed. WANT.


Dear Brain,

Deciding that you suddenly want to write is a good thing! I am very proud of you. However, I am at work, and therefore cannot just sit down and write a story. Especially not THAT kind of story. So please stop getting pissy with me.

Love, me

Hi. It is Thursday and I am sleepy and cranky and cramping and quietly freaking right the hell out, because I may have signed a lease to my very own apartment last night. One that happens to be in the upper Bronx and completely unfurnished. Aigh.

Also, I am going to the Evil Dead Musical if it kills me, because hello: Evil Dead musical. Necessary? Absolutely.

I really need to write something before the creative section of my brain starts to atrophy. Again. And I need to quit angsting about my writing, but pretty much a snowball's chance in hell of that happening, so.

This had been your scheduled update of me. Thank you.

This may very well be the greatest thing ever.

Strange spam mails or deeply fabulous stream-of-consciousness storytelling? You decide:

its suit glove." He pointed to the ring. Over the glove of a spacewhom I can depend to be the teacher you must have. In my day I wasinstructor is seldom found. My master might have made several fortunesfather went on with as much explanation as I was ever to get from him.for a long moment to listen to sounds below. They were farther awaywas not concerned with me or my discoveries. Nor did he mention theTraining has saved many a man in such straits, and training came to mySo I became Ustle's apprentice. And my father proved right; such anme a very boring party. My mother beamed and nursed another dream, forinstead the street before me and how it ran in relation to the city.through the door weapon in hand. We were not, however, to go that way,What chance had I left? Was I under observation? How would the keepers


precariously on my wall perch, once more holding the laser between mymy trail. My hands had been braced against the house wall and now mythat they are produced when bits of meteor of the proper metallicmatter to me that I was not of her blood. But that I was not the sonmy father's attitude this time which made me uneasy, as if he bothwho does not develop his talent is a man who ever eats dry oat-cakeshrank from me. But she need not have feared any trouble, for I turnedone visit to the nomads' market and some dickering for uncut crystals

My god, I hope I get the next installment soon.

So my grandparents are coming in to visit today, and my dad cleaned the house yesterday. I asked him if while he was cleaning, he would just vacuum my floor or something. Instead, he rearranged my entire freaking room, down to sorting through my CD/DVD/game collection. And he wonders why I never let him in there.

Anyway. As of monday, I am now 23. Huzzah! Of course, my internet chose that day to quit working, which is why I am posting now, taking a daring chance and doing so at work. I'm such a rebel. Ze birthday was fairly low key, as I got most of my gifts about a week or so earlier, but whatever. And my coworkers chose to celebrate (once I reminded them, the bastards) by being just as annoying as usual. How touching.


I should go do work now.

Yes, I'm still alive. You may or may not care, but it's true. Lack of updates can mostly be attributed to the fact that I am still very, very boring.

Work has SUCKED this week, due mostly to the fact that I've been assigned to this incredibly annoying project that makes me want to tear my eyeballs out. Add to that the fact that we've been banned from email, AIM and internet (unless it's for research purposes) and by the time I get home I'm so sick of staring at the computer screen that I don't even want to turn mine on. So if I've missed anything interesting in the past week or so, I appologize.

And I get to continue this for at least the next month! Fun!

Also, I agreed to switch with a coworker and come into work today because clearly, I am an idiot.


In more interesting news, my dad was apparently in a movie yesterday. It was this strange little thing but it was apparently directed by Julia Stiles and starred Zooey Deschanel, (though of course my dad is incredibly useless at celebrity spotting. Apparently, the conversation went something like this:
Dad: And the actress was Zoey...something.
Mom: Zooey Deschanel?
Dad: Yeah, maybe.)

So hey, go Daddy!


My back hurts and I am tired and would like to go home now, plzkthnx.

Okay. So. I appear to have misplaced my cellphone, and by misplaced I mean "lost because I a moron".

Therefore, I am in need of a new phone. To wit: if I had your number and/or you think I should have your number, please to be leaving it in the comments here (I'll screen them). Or, alternately, you could email it to me at rainnyx at gmail dot com. Just so long as you get it to me somehow, really.

I think I'll be getting a new number too, which I will of course give out once I am in possession of it.



I have to work the opening shift next week. I am not looking forward to this. Argh.

I'm sure there are things stranger than a large Amish family eating at a McDonald's in Times Square, but I can't think of many at the moment.


Hi. Work is boring. This is not suprising.


On the other hand, I got slapped upside the head by a story late last night. Hopefully, I'll be able to get it out on paper.


Someone tell me a story.

And now for another round of You Know You've Spent Too Much Time on the Internet When...

I spent the last few days reading the whole MsScribe thing. Probably not the best for my sanity, but holy shit is it entertaining in a train-wreck sort of way.

Today I was glancing at people's newspapers on the train and I see a bunch of headlines that say SEARS TOWER BOMB PLOT FOILED (or variants thereof).

First thought: Yeah, right. There was totally a bomb plot. Not made up just to get attention at all.

Second thought: Holy shit, I did not just think of our government like a crazed internet fangirl.

Third thought: What does that say about me?

Fourth thought: What does that say about them?!

And then I decided I should go lay down. Except that I got to work. So I wrote this up instead.


So how's your day been?

So I was all ready to get paid for sitting around on the internet, and then my job started KICKING MY ASS (and I mean that literally. I can't remember the last time I was this bruised). But it's okay, I still love it. There is not a damn thing happening at the moment, but we're rocking out to 80's music, so it's all good. And my arm will recover, one of these days.

But I'm bored. Someone should come talk to me. Or send me a nice message or SOMETHING. 80's music can only do so much, people!

Really, what I should be doing is working on fic so that these ideas stop keeping me awake at night, but I'm feeling lame. Why can't my creative muse ever show up when I need it?

I've been thinking about calling the Trio for a while now, but I'ver never actually managed to get around to it. And then this week I discovered I needed information that my Personal Librarian could not supply, but that the Trio probably could. And I still didn't get around to calling them. And caletara made fun of me for like, an hour.

Yesterday, I got an email from them doing the whole "just checking in since we haven't talked to you in forever" thing.

Dear Universe,

I GET IT. THANKS.

Love, me

Last night I dreamed that I was having very...erhm...enthusiastic sex on public transportation and I couldn't figure out why everyone was staring.

My subconscious is weird.


I am currently procrastinating on doing my work. As usual. I've only got another...two hours before class. Assignments can wait.

Anyone want to entertain me?

...someone please explain to me why it is SNOWING? HEAVILY?

What the hell.