Sure as hell.

 Funny, I didn't even know that blogger was still a thing. No one reads this so that's nice. But then again, that's just one more way I feel like no one is listening. Gotta start writing more. Hopefully I get the script gig and I can do this more often. Used to do it everyday, back when I had so much creative energy I was giving it away. The shit I used to give away for free. The things I destroyed because I thought I didn't want to carry them with me. I don't make things anymore. I don't have it in me to.
Why can't more things pulsate?
I have this stabbing pain in my shoulder, it's pent up anxiety. I think about going to work tomorrow and I can't breath. I'm so frightened at work, even more so than my last job. I just cannot stop. That stabbing pain.
When does this nagging feeling go away?
I'll read this in a year or two and tell myself it wasn't that bad really. That I was being over-dramatic.
That my problems didn't really matter in the long run.
What other choice is there?
Too much drama from someone who is almost 31.

Good morning coffee

Watching Skins again this morning. Attempting to drink coffee, but it's on the table and I'm on the couch. I can't even move.  I have to go to work.
I. don't. want. to.
(picnic, lightning)

Skins and I

It seems, the older I get the more I appreciate the British series Skins. Especially the first two seasons, it really is the epitome of being young. It wasn't the experience that I had as a teenager, nor would  have I approved of anything they did in the series at that age, but the sentiment is still the same. It captures the age when you have no knowledge of regret or mistakes. When you have the energy for anything and the world is full of endless opportunities. Before the world wears you down and you feel too old for things, before it feels like time is up.
At that age, all the doors are open. It's only afterward, years later, that they begin to close.
When you're a teenager, the world tells you that you're old enough to know better. But it isn't true at all. They keep saying it though; that's how the doubt gets you. Finally, you realize that, maybe you are too old for some things.
That's the beginning of the end.
(picnic,lightning)

Get up & the do somethings

You know why I loved Kurt Vonnegut? He was himself until the day he died and didn't care what anyone else thought. That takes a great amount of courage. I don't know whether it's courage, exhaustion, or deep spiraling depression that is fueling my case of the fuck its, but I no longer care what anyone else in this awful state thinks of me. If it didn't get me fired, I would dye my hair turquoise tomorrow. I don't want to put it off anymore. I checked out of this town months ago. 

Who knows if I was ever here? 

I hate this place. It's not a secret.

The only thing I can't do, is keep up appearances. 

I guess I can write. That may stem the tide. 

(picnic, lightning)

the squirrel

There is a squirrel in my attic.
We have had a man from the rental company come and shoo it out before. He even cut down the tree limbs that overhung our roof (in hopes of deterring the squirrels from returning).
It was only a matter of time.
The squirrel hath returned.
At least we were told it was a squirrel. It certainly does not sound like one. Before the man came with his vein attempt to rid us of the beast, it had gotten lost in our attic. In the confusion and panic that came with being lost among, what I can only assume were, boxes of moldy Christmas decorations, baubles, family photos, and other kitch left by previous tenants...it began to cry. A terrible whimper that resonated throughout the house, turning into a wailing screech.
Our dog, not knowing where the cries were originating from, would run up and down the hall, barking at the ceiling.
We could not scold her for barking at nothing.
I did not know that squirrels cried. Now, I do not believe that they cry.
We think that it was something larger, more sinister, than a squirrel. That, we are victims of a mass conspiracy, covering up the existence of a much larger mammal.
The roof has begun to leak again. I wonder if that has anything to do with the squirrel...and not the rain.

Today was one of those days where you get home and automatically want to search "fuck this" on Pinterest.

So yeah, the girls I work with (yes, sadly both now) are incredibly disrespectful. This has been an ongoing thing but now I'm coming to a close on the whole "try to ignore it" part of the process. I don't want to cause trouble or drama but I'm at a loss as to what to do. I just tried to avoid them by doing productive things for the hospital and now they are mad that I'm never there. But why would I want to stay around people who are basically horrid to me? Hmmm? They can't have it both ways. First off, I was sent on errands because one of them wanted me out of the office (that much was obvious) and now SHE is the one who is getting upset because I now run too many errands. I just cannot win. 

I don't know what I'm going to do but this has to stop.

(picnic,lightning) 

Wolf Worms and Turkish Delight

Do you know what wolf worms are dear reader?

"Wolf worms (or screw worms) infect all kinds of animals, including pet cats. Of the genus Cuterebra, wolf worms are the parasitic larvae of the Cuterebra fly. The wolf worm enters the cat's body through the pet's mouth, nose or a wound in the skin. It then migrates through the pet's body and comes to rest at a location under the skin. When it nears maturity, the wolf worm may be up to an inch long and is easily visible with the naked eye."- ehow.com
What they don't say is that a wolf worm looks (a lot) like a maggot about the size of your thumb nail and pokes its head out of the massive wound it has formed to make its home in the cats body when you begin to futs with it. Thankfully, in this incredibly gross gesture, the worm makes itself  easy to pluck out; the cat none the wiser for it.
That was my after lunch adventure today at work. It was possible one of the more disgusting things I have seen in my life and also one of the most fascinating. To put it mildly, I kind of wanted to vomit when I saw it happen and yet, I was secretly hoping that the doctor would need to re-leave the cat of more than one. Otherwise, work was uneventful and when I got home I was pleasantly surprised to find that our neighbor (in thanks for watching his cat while in the Ukraine) had brought us Turkish delight! I absolutely adore Turkish delight and have had the good fortune to try it twice in my life. I have to say I am luckier than most Americans, since jellied pistachios covered in powder sugar really doesn't seem like it will be catching on soon in the states. That is, unless, it suddenly becomes popular among hipsters for some ironic reason that would be beyond me. Speaking of which, the whole mustache craze has gotten a little bit out of control. I mean, I saw mustaches being sold in claires. The target audience of claires, last time I checked, was unable to even grow mustaches due to the fact that the target audience members are prepubescent girls. This fact, however, did not stop me from walking into said claires, noticing said mustaches, and buying a six pack of puppy earrings for work purposes.
My ears freaked out when I put them in though.
So that was $4.50 (on clearance) down the drain.
(picnic,lighting)