since I chose to disengage from all the yuckiness in my life, it’s been work and responsibilities and very little downtime.
But I’ve knocked pretty much every major responsibility out as of yesterday. I got my fix-it ticket signed off by the police department (the officer was nice and called me “young lady”…heh. first off, lady is not something I ever call myself, or let anyone call me. secondly, he was probably 10 years older than me at the most. But I realize I do look pretty young. I’m sure it’s all the ska I listened to as a teenager, since we’ve established that ska is the fountain of youth and whatnot.), I wrote and mailed a letter to Natasha in Indonesia and got some stamps for future correspondence, I sent a care package to the boys in AK (mostly to the one boy, but I hope he’s nice and shares his candy and whatnot.), I bought a city park card so I can stop carrying around $30 in quarters and asking for change wherever I go. I took my Sexual Harassment training for work (while listening to Beat Boy. That was awesome. Somehow I managed to pass the exam with 90% despite the mixed messages. Lawl.) and folded my clothes. I cleaned the rats’ cage. I finally admitted to my parents that I gave myself a third degree burn with the heat gun last week, and I didn’t drive myself to the hospital because I was embarrassed and in shock (I think I damaged some muscle. It doesn’t hurt on its own but I get cramps and start limping when I walk. Awesome.).
So, no more stress about all the things I have to deal with…aside from the planning and social stuff I have to make decisions on and the need to buy a slip for one of my work dresses that enthusiastically showcases my pierced nipples whenever I put it on. Plenty of time to draw and read and play games and whatnot, should be awesome, right?
Wrong. I am hugely depressed and I can’t think of anything I want to draw. And I finished L.A. Noire and Oryx and Crake (and I haven’t gotten into The Master and Margarita yet, or bought any new games.). So I’m lying on my belly obsessively reloading my tumblr dash, listening to I’ll Miss You by Ween and drinking a cup of Trader Joe’s mango lassi. I finished taping off her golden joints, and I’m spraying Rabbitheart blue out in the yard (Fjord blue, to be exact), but that’s a waiting game.
This is only counting states I’ve spent more than an hour in. We drove through much of the north-east coast one summer going from New York to Virginia, but I can’t differentiate one state from the next in my memory, so it hardly counts.
It’s been a long day. I worked all 10 hours dressed as a pirate wench (derby today, what can I say…), straight from one job to the next, then watched our production of Hairspray (Damn it’s good. I think every show is our best show, but this gives even Little Shop of Horrors a run for its money. And I still wear the company hoodie from that year so that’s saying a lot. Also: our two big shows this year are about self-acceptance and self-esteem. It’s pretty fucking cool I gotta say), then came home and paid my car registration and re-dyed my hair, trimmed my bangs. Coworker invited me for a drink tonight but damn if I’m not ready to drop, and the two-inch long heat-gun burn I gave myself stripping the last of my car window tint the other day (flesh fell off my leg just like slow-cooked meat, it was pretty awesome.) is making me limp, and I have another shift at the stage tomorrow. Oh, but I wish I was there right now and not trying to be so goddamned responsible. Ginger ale and vanilla vodka, plox.
I was feeling terrible all this week and I think I managed to finally turn it around, and I had a great time with my fellow box-officers today (And yesterday at the stage, too. It was such a slow afternoon that at one point we put on a scary movie and turned off all the lights in the office. During business hours. Of course, everything magically came back on as soon as a customer came to the window. Lawl.)…I feel like I can talk again, like I’m not afraid of everyone. So I got to know the people around me a little better today. I also found out that- historically anyway- I’m not the only one. With my ridiculous stupid impossible crush I mean. Which is comforting but also uncomfortable in its own way. But I was taking it less seriously for all of 8 hours when two insignificant digits electrified me and now I’m so wide awake it would be laughable if I wasn’t so close to a breakdown, so desperate for a few hours of sleep. Fuck f’book. Also, why not earlier, when I felt like I was going to die of alienation and I was so worried? Also, is this a calculated effect?
Tequila, alone. This is the solution. Out with my coworker (I think maybe I can even call her a friend…it’s so funny how just saying that to myself makes me feel a little better) would be better of course, but this way I won’t have to worry about getting home. I can just listen to Knots over and over and think about what I can’t do and who I can’t do it with (inappropriate life-ruining crushes, traveling and taken singer-songwriters, partners away in Alaska for the summer, the ones that got away, fictional characters, etc.). So I twist and I turn and the rope starts to burn and I’m frantic…
(Reposting for the night crowd. So far we’ve raised $390 out of the $600 we need, but more than half of that is from people paying us back for things. Thus far I only have two raffle contestants, both for the $15-40 section, so you guys have a really good chance of winning something!)
The Captain and I are a few hundred dollars short for rent this month (it’s due no later than August 4th) and our Poet is planning on visiting for the first three and a half weeks of August (!) and we’d like to be able to help hir out with traveling expenses if possible.
So I’m organizing a raffle! This is how it works: If you go to my tumblr page you’ll see a paypal “Donate” button in the sidebar.
• Entering $3-14.99 makes you eligible to win a piece of custom art (see my as-yet-sparsely-populated DeviantArt gallery for examples); this phase will have three winners.
• Those entering $15-39.99 are eligible to win custom handmade jewelry or crochet pieces (see my Etsy page)
• Anyone entering $40 or more wins a handmade thing of their choice automatically with none of that pesky chance nonsense.
• If you live in or visit the Portland area and you want a haircut, you get one free with a donation of any quantity. I’ve been cutting hair for two and a half years or so, and I think at least 80% of my victimsguinea pigs those I’ve given haircuts would rate themselves “very satisfied” and only one or two people “displeased” (and one of those was done in a hurry.)
• I also sew, so if you have clothing that needs mending or alteration I’ll do that, probably cheaper than you could get it done at a shop.
Thank you so much for reading, and anyone who takes the few extra seconds to reblog & signal boost, please know I appreciate it very much.
P.S. If you’re interested in the details of our situation, feel free to ask; I just didn’t want to spam everyone with a gigantic wall o’ text about how broke I am.
I’m a bit strapped for cash trying to get my own (re)start in the world together, but I can sure take the time to reblog!
Jeremy Messersmith at the Hotel Utah Saloon was awesome. And I liked the Lumineers and Rin Tin Tiger way more than expected. No one told me the show space was the size of someone’s garage. So I got a really good view (well, not for the first two sets, because I got pushed to the back. Incidentally, I got a face full of the Lumineers lead singer’s butt during one song they decided to play out on the floor. It was amusing. But a lot of people left when they finished up so I got to move forward. It made me want to cry, because while I am probably going to do my damnedest to get a hold of some of the Lumineers’ music, I was planted firmly in the rah-rah go Jeremy corner.). It was weird, because there I was being tall awkward me in my wayfarers and oversized fluevog angels and black curve-hugging dress with the thin cream stripes looking like somewhat of a negative of Mr. Messersmith up on stage, clutching a pillar and swaying to the music and mouthing all of the words and then I realize hey hey, this isn’t the catalyst or the civic, those lights aren’t so bright and I’m Like Five Feet Away and He Can Probably See Me Swooning Not That He Cares He’s Performing But I’m Crushing Hard But There’s A Ring On That Finger And Oh My God Embarrassing. Also, I could have introduced myself at the end of the show, but I was too shy and embarrassed. And what would I have said? “My friend heard you on NPR and sent me Organ Donor, and it took me a little while to like it but I’m hooked now and I just want you to know that you’re awfully cute and I’m just wishing for someone who can make me feel one tenth as much as I do when I listen to A Girl, A Boy and A Graveyard and Dead End Job and Beautiful Children, and the glasses and the jumping on hotel beds and the dry humor too, please please please don’t take offense at that. Well, keep up the amazing work.”
x_x ok, maybe I should have said “Hi.” But I have this long history of inadvertently insulting people I admire when I meet them and I had a shitty beer or two in me by the end of the show.
So anyway, here’s the Lumineers with a most excellent song that will henceforth always remind me of receiving a spontaneous face-full of black skinny-jean clad butt and carabiner’d keys:
crawl cut short. feel a little like crying. and of course too good to be true really was.
Infected Mushroom was pretty fucking awesome, though, even though the opening acts were shit (more time to drink and smoke outside, I guess) and they only played for like…an hour and a half. They had giant scary inflatable mushrooms on stage. They had a drum set and a keyboard and guitar….not just turntables. That was pretty impressive and not at all what I expected. Also, they covered One by One by Foo Fighters….surprisingly awesome. And I ran into my long-lost best friend at the show (and my co-worker at the liquor store too, that was pretty bomb.). I was drunk and the only thing I could think to say to her was “I feel like I’m 7 feet tall, no offense.”
…I haven’t seen you in 5 years and I’m going to insult your height. Wow. This is the first time I’ve really felt like I acted like an ass while drunk. Generally, I handle myself pretty well and regret nothing. But I said some stupid shit last night. This is the last time I drink 3 pints (Heather! Heather! We went to 99 Bottles and I drank pear cider! And Old Rasputin. And a little bit of each of the beers the boys were sampling.), whiskey on the rocks and a couple bottles of Little Sumpin’ without eating ANYTHING all day. On the other hand, I was having a great time until I realized pretty much everyone was paired off at the show. Well, except Ian (E.B., not A.). I thought about it, but I was shy. We almost hooked up that one time, and I still kinda regret not pursuing anything after that. His buddy found himself a girl within minutes, and their faces were locked for almost the entire show. I dunno, he was cute so I could see the appeal. And very nice to me. We shared cigarettes and flirted. But at the show all the attention I got was one guy behind me telling me he liked my glasses (obviously a ploy, he was behind me and couldn’t see them. but he was kind of gross so I wasn’t interested.). And a lot of people stepped on my toes. I thought I looked hot in my short shorts, rainbow socks, spikey boots, cropped Freak Radio SC shirt, uv reactive spiked collar, opalite crescents and welding goggles. But probably not.
“You say that you love rain, but you open your umbrella when it rains. You say that you love the sun, but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines. You say that you love the wind, but you close your windows when wind blows. This is why I am afraid, you say that you love me too.”—William Shakespeare (via simply-shay)
I was walking by 21st and Dundritch Street and a man pulled out a gun and said, "Give me all your money."
And did you?
Yes, I co-operated.
So you willingly gave the man your money without fighting back, calling for help or trying to escape?
Well, yes, but I was terrified. I thought he was going to kill me!
Mmm. But you did co-operate with him. And I've been informed that you're quite a philanthropist, too.
I give to charity, yes.
So you like to give money away. You make a habit of giving money away.
What does that have to do with this situation?
You knowingly walked down Dundritch Street in your suit when everyone knows you like to give away money, and then you didn't fight back. It sounds like you gave money to someone, but now you're having after-donation regret. Tell me, do you really want to ruin his life because of your mistake?
This is ridiculous!
This is a rape analogy. This is what women face every single day when they try to bring their rapists to justice.