There is only one thing worse than being witty

and now you're older still

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 01:00:52 GMT

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?

take this job and shove it

Tue, 10 Jul 2007 14:31:33 GMT

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?

relationships, conversations, and lacks thereof

Tue, 20 Feb 2007 03:18:31 GMT

I'll be the first person to admit that I kind of suck at social stuff. I'm needy, whiny, and unbelievably paranoid about everything that goes on outside of my own head. But you know that thing about 'just because your paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you'? I wonder about that sometimes.

Where exactly does one draw the line between 'I should keep bothering this person because I know they will never call me back but they would probably like to hear from me' and 'perhaps this person would simply like not to talk to me'?

Case in point:
I had something of a psuedo-interview with a gentleman my mother knows through work who owns a graphics design firm. The interview itself did not go very well (he was looking for someone with actual experience, which I am not) but he did make it somewhat clear in a roundabout way that if I was willing to fight for it, he might be able to find a position for me anyway.

Okay, then.

Fighting for it is not something I do well. My first response at the slightest sign of adversity is to hide under the nearest large piece of furniture. Putting myself forward is another thing I do quite badly (why do I have to convince people that I'm awesome? Can't they just tell?)

But I did it anyway. I called the firm back the next day. The gentleman in question was not available, but I left a message with a nice woman who asured me that he would call me back. He didn't.

What am I to make of this? That he didn't get the message, and I should try again? Or that he did, and has no interest in speaking to me? The paranoia in me says the latter. My self-esteem fairy (also known as my mother) says the former. I am left a bundle of confusion. It turns out that he did indeed get the message, but that he says he has been too busy to get in contact with me. Whether or not this is true remains to be seen (also that he might begin to avoid my mother lest she bother him about me at every opportunity. Which she would, because she is a nutcase).

So, I still have no idea what to do with all this. It in no way helps me deal with people who go "oh sure, it'd be great to talk to you" and then vanish off the face of the goddamn planet for five months. I know I have to keep pushing it. I do. I get it. I also get that people have their own lives and issues, and don't necessarily have the time or inclination to want to deal with mine.

It's just...is it so much to ask that I don't always have to be the one to force the issue? Wishing for random acts of kindness is perhaps one of the most futile things in existance. If you ask for it, it isn't what you want, and you're probably not going to get anything unless you ask for it.

Luckily, I excel at futility.

This got much more emo than I intended, since I mostly started it as a way to procrastinate on other things I could (or should) be doing. I guess I had more to whine about than I thought. Ah well.

I thought Spiderman made you gay?

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 16:36:35 GMT

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.

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 15:01:32 GMT

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.)

200...7? Really?

Sun, 31 Dec 2006 17:13:42 GMT

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.

panic at the wherenow?

Thu, 07 Dec 2006 16:50:44 GMT

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.

Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting--oh, shit

Thu, 30 Nov 2006 16:06:57 GMT

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.

random drivel

Tue, 07 Nov 2006 18:02:35 GMT

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

he's too sexy, you know

Thu, 02 Nov 2006 19:45:42 GMT

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.

SPAM spam spam spam spam

Thu, 05 Oct 2006 15:04:39 GMT

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.

Happy birthday. No internet for you!

Wed, 20 Sep 2006 15:45:24 GMT

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.

WHINE

Sat, 02 Sep 2006 20:12:22 GMT

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.

Request!

Sun, 09 Jul 2006 01:39:03 GMT

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.

Fri, 07 Jul 2006 19:05:29 GMT

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.

my brain hurts

Fri, 23 Jun 2006 16:33:49 GMT

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?

TURNING JAPANESE I REALLY THINK SO

Thu, 08 Jun 2006 15:47:04 GMT

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?

could you stop with the anvils already?

Wed, 26 Apr 2006 21:34:21 GMT

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

Thu, 20 Apr 2006 18:43:08 GMT

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?

Wed, 05 Apr 2006 15:55:27 GMT

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

What the hell.

I think I have had too much caffiene today

Fri, 31 Mar 2006 20:37:35 GMT

So I'm supposed to be re-writing this story so I can submit it to be workshopped. The only problem is that I don't want to even look at the thing because I HATE IT WITH A BURNING FIREY PASSION. For serious, ya'll, it sucks like whoa. And I have to get it done by Tuesday, even though I've had like a month to work on it because I am incapable of not doing things at the last minute. Why am I so weird about my writing?

OMGWTF WHY did I not notice that Kingdom Hearts 2 came out? novel_tea, get your ass over here immediately so we can play! And don't give me that "I have work and a life and stuff" crap. Cracktastic video games trump real life EVERY TIME. So says me.

And now I have to go get my hair cut.

could you be any less interesting?

Tue, 21 Mar 2006 16:44:44 GMT

Today I learned that I can indeed have very sucky interviews and that I type 46 words a minute, which means that I am only half as cool as novel_tea. Woe. (Also, weird, because I was pretty sure I type faster than that, but whatever.)

I am finally getting over the evil cold from hell that had me in bed for the last two weeks, so that's something, at least. And I am becoming obsessed with bad TV shows an am forced to download episodes from BitTorrent but they take like 6 hours each and make me sad.

That is the extent of my existence.

DON'T GO INTO TH BASEMENT!

Mon, 13 Feb 2006 20:46:25 GMT

So. There's, uh, a Silent Hill movie. And it's directed by the guy who did Brotherhood of the Wolf, which was fascinating in a deeply weird sort of way. This should be interesting.

Not that I've actually played Silent Hill, because I am utterly incompetent at those sorts of games. I get so freaked out by things jumping out at me that I forget to hit the buttons, as I am too busy trying to hide under a chair. Me=lame.

I have, however, looked up the plot synopsis on GameFAQs because I am a dork.

It's amazing how many things one can learn if they hang around Fandom_Wank long enough.

...

Sun, 12 Feb 2006 18:28:10 GMT

I've had a couple of fics running around in my head, generally being annoying and refusing to go down on paper. Last night, at about 3am I finally managed to get one of the written down, so I read it over this morning and...I hate it. This makes me unbelievably cranky. Maybe it will suck less if I look over it again later.

Also, I really want to get out of the house, but there's about a foot of snow on the ground, and it's still falling. Also, I feel like crap.

This weekend sucks like a sucking thing.

Remember that writing thing? Yeah, me neither.

Fri, 10 Feb 2006 22:40:57 GMT

The writing class? Going fairly well. I have proven to myself that I can actually write something when presented with a deadline. Of course, now I'm having trouble writing things that haven't been assigned, but hey. Progress, right?

Title: A Completely True Tale of Pain and Suffering
Word Count: 694
Assignment: The thing you will never live down

I’ve done an assortment of stupid things in my life. One of my mother’s great enjoyments is to recite fairly embarrassing tales of my youth to anyone who will listen. But when I sat and thought about it, there was one story that stood out above the others, one that never fails to get me strange looks and hysterical laughter when I tell it, and that the people who around at the time will never, ever let me live down.

This, then, is the story of the time that I inhaled a pushpin.

I was sitting at the computer in my father’s office, making good use of my Instant Messaging program. It was somewhat late in the evening, my usual time for completely usurping the computer. Dad was out for the evening, and Mom was snoozing away in the next room.

In the midst of all this normality, I accidentally knocked a few things off the desk next to me, involved as I was with my multiple conversations. Distracted, I leaned over to pick everything up, nearly stepping on a pushpin for my trouble. It was larger than most, colored a nice metallic silver, and I was mostly just happy I didn’t have to pull it out of my foot. Glancing back at the computer as I replaced everything, I noticed that my friend had messaged me something, so I popped the pushpin in my mouth and held it between my teeth for a second, then set about typing back with both hands.

This turned out to be a very, very bad idea.

I can’t remember which, but someone in either of the conversations I was having suddenly made me laugh. Hard. When I was done choking, I realized that the pushpin was missing, and it felt like there was something stuck in my throat. As calmly as I could, I ended the conversations and marched into my mother’s bedroom to announce that I thought I had swallowed a pin.

A short while later, I was trying my hardest not to freak out, and mom was on the phone trying to reach my doctor. The conversation she had with the nurse should have been an indicator of how the rest of the debacle would play out.

“I think my daughter may have swallowed a pin.

“And how old is she?”

“Sixteen.”

“Oh, sixteen months?”

“No, years.”

The doctor had plenty of advice about my little problem, and we went about our business. I lasted about a week before I confessed to my parents that I was having breathing problems. In my defense, I’m asthmatic, so it isn’t unusual for me to be short of breath every so often. Back to the doctor we went, who listened to my chest, blinked at me for a moment, and suggested I visit the hospital.

Most of that time was spent waiting in various rooms and hallways, and repeating my story to an increasing number of hospital personnel. The nurses loved me, I was informed that I was the most interesting case to come along on a Thursday night. I was less than thrilled to be laughed at, until one of the doctors told me that my problem wasn’t all that unusual, they saw it a lot with seamstresses – and babies.

But I was assured that it would be an easy surgery – they had to actually reach down my throat into my lungs to get the stupid thing – and that by some strange luck, one of the top surgeons in that particular area would be available to do it for me. They took pictures during the surgery, which for some reason my parents actually kept, but I suppose if isn’t every day that you get to see the insides of your own lungs.

So I got off school that Friday, and then got to explain to everyone where exactly I’d been, and why. They all had the exact same reaction that I still get whenever I tell the story now.

“You swallowed a pushpin?”

To which I always reply: “Not swallowed. Inhaled.” Because if I’m going to be mocked mercilessly, they might as well get the story straight.