Dream

Jul. 6th, 2017 02:25 pm
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Dreamt I went to a con and one of the guys I was volunteering with just started kissing my neck and telling me he loved me. My reaction was, "Okay, right, sure, don't blame you, you have no way of knowing, but there is a lot to love, but reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaallllly not good timing for me, also, the fact that you're making the jump to lightspeed without clearing the atmosphere is not a good sign for you being in my life... or, well, anyone's, plus maybe I'm not the optimal nurse-and-a-purse for your needs and your family will hate me."

And whether or not I WANTED this guy was just not a factor.

Which is and has been a problem in my love life.

Triggered

Jul. 4th, 2017 09:27 pm
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Missed a call last night from a number that Googles as registered to the address Zombie Bloke's uncle lived at when I knew them.

And all I could do once I'd struggled through the rest of my shift was lie curled in the dark, trying to keep my breathing silent and my heart still.

A line from a Spanish song: "Never let love in to your gut, because when it leaves, it will take your insides with it."

Ten years later, jeeze.

I know it's sheer coincidence. No-one from Zombie Bloke's family has anything to say to me. It's certainly a war-dialer telemarketing scam from visiting the wrong website on my phone, or a wrong number.

I still can't bring myself to call back.

(EDIT: I will not block the number. There is a small chance that ZB's family needs to tell me off and gain closure from hollering at me. They deserve that. I think that it is this what has really kicked me in the ovaries, that these are the guys for whom my rapist was the answer to their prayers, and that I had, dharmically speaking, earned that rape by molesting their teenaged child. Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh. You think that's hard to read, try looking at it in the mirror every day.)

Ugh, remember that Christmas that someone (who turned out, a year later , to be Maegan) called my number asking for E. and not giving a name after I'd written a particularly cringeworthy letter to ZB's true-love-of-the-week, begging her to take him back? I feel kind of like that before that mystery was solved. I don't deny, there's this part of me that's obsessed with the idea that ZB is going to return and convince me to dismantle and destroy my life in return for six months of China-White-grade forgiveness, witty banter, and writing inspiration (believe or not, there was a time that this happened fairly frequently--- I lived in a veritable Jeepers Creepers sequel--- and there was a time that this felt worth it). I generally ignore it, try not to feed it, let it cling to its rock like a misguided limpet as it quietly gibbers its nonsense to itself. (Weirdly enough, it's quite separate from the small part of me that misses, and will probably always miss, ZB's friendship.) (I try to keep it in the light, because secrecy and the ability to get away with stalky obsession was very, very bad for me at one point. I apologize, gentle reader, for my TMI-ing, but recording it seems the thing to do, a cross against my personal vampire.) It's hard, when life gives it ammo, even small stuff like this.

Pipe dreams

Jul. 4th, 2017 03:11 pm
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What if the message you took away from Watchman's paternity shocker were not, "bitches are crazy and rape is Not a Thing," but, "You can forgive a lot when someone demonstrably has your back and starts treating you like a human"?
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...probably a popped.. um, cyst, or something.

CW: grossness behind cut.

Read more... )
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They said didn't like the modern car.
They said they wanted the embrace of a tank to feel safe.
They said that the price of the lighter carton
Were the eggs inside.
Seat belts make you drive crazy,
Because you feel safe when you wear them.

Look, I said,
You're safer in these, as you call them,
Plastic toys. They
Surround you and
They are built to take the damage into themselves,
To suck in impact.
To be destroyed so you might live.

That "plastic toy" crumples,
But the meat walks away.

They said they didn't like my modern life.
Sex should never come
Without feeling like armor,
Like a tank,
Like a cage.
Be like the turtle, they said,
Entwine your spine with the roof so the removal of your vehicle will kill your sweet green flesh.

He sighted down the barrel at me and laughed when I refused to flinch.

He said, "All right, fine, that was a punch, but don't you agree that it was justified?"

He said, "I think your friend is very beautiful." (She sighed, "His heart beats with mine, but.")

He showed me the pills he was going to use if I would not.

He said, "You lied to me and so for the foreseeable future."

He said, "You ruined my life. Couldn't
you at least have wiped the blood off your face before the cops got here?"


The plastic toy crumples and the meat walks away.
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(From yesterday, Net was off at posting time)

Read more... )
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...the problem of "what to wear to the dance at Archon" is solved. I'm going as crossplay David from The Library at Mount Char, in bodystocking, fake blood up to my elbows, dark red dreads, and purple tutu.

[ETA: no, scratch that bodystocking, an "I Read Banned Books" t-shirt in a very, very wrong size.]
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...I'm trying to reconcile how I can be more assertive in relationships without, y'know, being a dick about it. Some day, I want a romantic/ sexual partner on the regular, and one thing that has poisoning my relationships is my inability to strike a balance between calling shit the second I see it (when 90% of the shit I see is "I am hungry and therefore cranky and paranoid," and can be ditched after a good snack and a nap), and letting everything build up for months.

Right now, I'm vaguely irritated at my daughter for two things:

-she changed the address on my credit union accounts without consulting me* and

-she and I had plans last weekend, which involved meeting up with a co-worker of whom I am fond and possibly running into an old classmate, and she and her husband just decided, no, we're staying in today, you can help us with gardening.

And I am grateful that they are alive and willing to see me and not drug addicts or zombies or a thousand other awful things that can be worse, and I am just the worst person imaginable to put how my actions look to others over my children's feelings. Yet I am still irritated.

I can't let it go (believe me, I have tried), even though neither of there are something that is likely to come up again. (Maybe. Ugh, I want to change my banking password, it bothers me that they "have" to have this giant, non-reciprocal window into my affairs, plus I hate leaving passwords unchanged for more than XX days, but that will look like I'm being pissy or I'm hiding something.) I SHOULD be able to let them go, who lets petit crap like that bother her? My emotions are mine, nobody causes them but me. Also, telling C. I have a concern has about a 50% chance of being an emotional kick to her balls (Sigh. At least we know she's mine.), especially when she is stressed out about a dozen other things (financially strained, just moved, dealing with the fallout from husband having several deaths in his family, constantly feeling judged, not having comfortable shoes, health problems..)

The thing is, if I'm ever going to be in a relationship again, I need to find ways not to treat myself like a sack of crap, or it will be the past 30 years (minus Eric and K.) all over again... but how do you do that without shitting in the other person's chicken bucket?



*Long story: L. was in an accident that totaled the car, technically mine, so I needed to buy them a new one so they could keep their jobs (at the time, pizza delivery drivers). We were living together at the time, but Trevor the libertarian decided we were all moving, and so we split up the household. The loan could not continue without me on their insurance, I could not have them on the same insurance policy as me without living with them unless my rates were to go up astronomically, beyond my or their ability to pay, so I reluctantly changed my address to theirs. They recently tried to have me co-sign for another loan, and they decided to "correct" my address. Now I'm exposed to the world as an insurance fraud, when they are the ones backed me into a corner and said, "If you don't commit insurance fraud, we will lose our jobs." Aren't you sorry you read the footnote? David Foster Wallace I'm not. Also, I loathe that stupid, ugly car from the deeps of my being, although it is at least better than the Focus, of which the best that can be said is they do not often awaken to find it perched on the end of their bed at three a.m., shining its high beams in their faces as it mutters rude words in a Romani dialect.
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This fitness plan thing says my goal is 2200 kcal of activity per day. I... just don't know how I can do that, without finding some way to count my calories from exercise that doesn't "count." I can walk 5.5 hours a day, I guess... (No, I really can't. Fine, I walk/ jog 5k about every other day, but it's nowhere near the same thing. Ugh, FINE, I just don't WANT to walk 5.5 hours a day.) (Okay, 1200 of that is covered by 9+ hours at a desk, but... man, can I whine again? Desk time / > time in a plank.)

OTOH, if burning 2200 calories a day is what it takes to lose 5 lbs in a year (the goal I've been stuck with), then I finally get why I'm not losing weight...
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...you realize there is probably a pornographic parody out there of Alice in Wonderland that not only does not have Alice looking archly at the camera and murmuring, "Curiouser and curiouser," but lacks even a broken condom and the phrase, "But it was best butter"?
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Why do dogs
Shit upon the ground
Every time
He's around?

Just like me,
They long to be
Far away...

Why do stars
Shriek from out their spheres,
Every time he appears?

Just like me,
They long to be
Far away.

On the day that I met him,
My angel fled my shoulder
And the devil palmed his face and made a moue.
He will not shut up or take a hint
And murder's so illegal tell me... what's a girl to do?

And that's why
Smiles do not reach eyes
Till it's time
For goodbyes.
Just like me,
They long to be
Far away.

(Unlike my last couple catty filks, this is not dedicated to anyone particular, and is only gendered because the person bitching about Obama usually presents as male.)
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https:/https://9gag.com/gag/agLeZwq?ref=fsidebar9gag.com/gag/agLeZwq?ref=fsidebar

Penguin meets penguin. Other penguin leaves penguin for nicer, better-groomed penguin. Penguin cedes all social ties to other penguin, leaves group, falls into depression. Penguin falls in love with cartoon character.

...That's... that's my autobiography and my Stony fanfic obsession right there, in a nutshell... except as a compersion-prone lithromantic, I get off on watching others whose minds I groove to be happy together, so long as they leave me the hell alone.
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According to the New Deal Insurance Diet Plan thingy, I should have lost 2.9 pounds in the past three days. I am assiduously tracking and measuring, and UNDER reporting exercise. I would be greatly distressed indeed were this the case; "one pound per day" is not a safe or healthy weight loss pace... especially as this is what I've been eating/ doing for almost a year... no matter what Zombie Bloke says, I have never, ever been in a place where I could stand to lose 350+ lbs...
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