Climb trees, go out on a limb

Holy fucking geez. Halloween, honestly.

My costume was kind of a wash, sadly. I slept until damn near noon (seriously. Fifteen minutes shy of noon), did a few things this morning....apparently. I have no recollection of doing ANYTHING between going to bed and waking up at 11:45. But I guess I took Allen to work? And went to the gas station? And who knows what else. I have no idea. All I know is, I woke up at 11:45 watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer with a Red Bull clutched to my chest like some sort of treasure and an unopened packet of breakfast crackers. On the plus side, I'm highly efficient when I sleep.

So again, costume = wash. I didn't get to do the things I wanted, so I just wound up looking kind of...kind of eighties. Which depressed me. But I'll do better with my costume next year. I've already got a few ideas (Tosh said we should go as the Sanderson Sisters from Hocus Pocus, and I LOVE that idea. Allen said the gang should all dress up as the IASiP crew doing The Nightman Cometh, and I love that idea, as well. I said I'd be a character from American Gods next year. So many ideas, and only one day to carry them out. Well drat), and now I have a whole year to work at them. But let's see how fucking stupid I looked today, shall we? Yes. Yes we shall.

Exhibit A:

1. I am wearing three layers of clothing so I wouldn't get too cold, even though I was bare-legged. Running shorts, denim shorts, and then the skirt. Sports bra, actual bra, tank top, running top, hoodie jacket. I'm two layers of clothing wider than I normally am.

2. I couldn't find a suitable fish, so I drew x-marks over a dolphin squeaky toy's eyes and then jammed it onto a bent out wire hanger. Brilliant, and crap.

3. I lost my perfectly damaged fishnets and had to buy a new pair, not scuffed up and bedraggled looking at ALL.

4. I fucking hate those chucks. They'd be kind of rad, if you didn't have to have the legs of a stick person to fit into them. Luckily, I needed to look nutty and disaffected, so the tying up with multiple pairs of string helped.

5. That silly ass wig. The wig I ordered was perfection...in pictures. But when it arrived, it just sort of looked like the bride of Frankenstein was going through a phase, and I couldn't make it look the way it did when I saw the pictures of it. So, I wore my wig, but I didn't have time to do anything with it.

I wound up looking less like Delirium and more like an extra from Empire Records. Like I'm about to start singing Sugar High at any moment. My saving grace was nobody knowing who the fuck Delirium is. I could have nailed it, for all they know.

I have class in nine hours, and I can't sleep. My brain is going and going and going a million miles a minute.

This post has things.

I'm a sad, sad panda today. I've been spending the morning between flashes of memories that are equal parts wonderful and crushing, and because I know what I know, they're just crushing. But I'll get over it. I'm a tough girl. Clearly.

Just in time to cheer me up a little bit, though....

My aunt sent me this today:

Can we take a moment to discuss this, please? Thanks.

Look at what a curly headed chublet I am! And with the sardonic look on my face already. I started early.

Yesterday was a fucking WEIRD day. Weird weird weird. Some things happened that made me deeply uncomfortable, and when I was telling Derek and Mariana about them (they're my favorite agents here. They have their own team), they gave me their opinion, and it bothered me. Not in the sense that I'm mad at them, but because I don't understand, and it makes it hard for me to process. Allen said the same thing. I guess it's time for me to have a long sit-down with myself to figure some things out.

In fun news, I've got an awesome dinner with my friends tomorrow night at Tucanos. I am so fucking excited. Stevie and I have been planning precisely what sweatpants to wear, whether or not we should wear sweatpants with pockets and attempt to bring home meats or if that's TOO gross (we're erring on the side of not, because we have little to no pride when unlimited meat is one of life's options), and I am planning on drinking heavily. It's going to be a wonderful evening. I got a jump on my homework specifically so I could go out on Tuesday without feeling guilty, and I'm very pleased about this.

Holly and I have a girl's night at my house planned for Saturday, so I'm skipping out on Saturday cram night with the gang, which means I'm going to have to seriously bust my ass this entire week so I have nothing looming over my head. I'm really excited for these two nights, though. It'll be nice, and they'll be welcome distractions from my sad, sad brain. But maybe I won't be sad by then anymore! The good thing is, it's not a debilitating kind of sad. Just a knowing sad.

And the world spins madly on.

If this has been in any way depressing, please scroll up and note how mother fucking ADORABLE I am. Totes adorbs, some might say.

I'm supposed to be writing papers but I just don't want to.

I'm feeling oddly Halloween festive, so I'm watching The Haunted Mansion. My big fat fuck of a black cat is sitting in my lap, giving not one single fuck that I'm trying to type.

It's 12:30, and I can't sleep. I'm so fucking tired, but I don't want to do any more homework.

What I really, really want is a rub and to put my head in someone's lap and fall asleep. This is very specific, but sadly not happening.

I'm thinking of breaking open some wine to aid my sleep.

I'm so drained. Oy. Thirty more days until my entire week off. I am SO excited. I'll spend all of it either sleeping, drinking, or sleep drinking.

Fandalism: An unauthorized autobiography

While I was sitting at work, generally not working because why would I, I had the brilliant idea of making fliers to advertise the Vasta Nerada-less-ness of my local library. So, I made some up, and spent the remaining hours at work fidgeting with excitement and glee.

I went home, put on my Bad Wolf Corp. hoodie and my Police Box chucks (OBVIOUSLY), and while I was taking a picture of my ensemble, I couldn't stop giggling over the word fandalism. I'm sure I'm not the first person to come up with fandalism, but I had never heard anyone use it, and I was so fucking delighted with myself that I couldn't stop giggling. Observe the blurry goodness:

Obviously, I have won myself over, and I'm in mid-swoon over me.

I played a particularly rousing game of "Fuck that guy!" on my way to the library. I lost, which is a shame, because this guy was a particular dick, but it was incredibly spirited just the same.

Once I infiltrated the library...and I was absolutely playing my own theme music in my head...I had to find places to put my posters.

I decided on these two places. The column was fairly tricky, as there was a librarian in the row directly across from me. But if I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it right, dammit. A security guard came walking through the door as I was walking away from the second sign, but he didn't notice. I even smiled at him. I was feeling exceptionally bold.

The last one went up in the actual book section, which was the most appropriate place.

I couldn't find anybody to take my photo, so I had to quickly cheese it in front of my sign and selfie it up.

I am so pleased with how I spent my post-work afternoon. I'm sure that they're going to be taken down as soon as they're discovered, but that's ok. I did it, and I've been wanting to do it for ages.

After I fandalized the library, I met up with Stevie and Chris at VI, where I still am. I just finished taking my business quiz (95. Aw yiss!), and after I'm finished writing this,  I'm going to do all of my philosophy nonsense. This includes two tests and two papers.

Another long night at VI with my study buddies.

Now is a time for made up vendettas!

Perhaps this is just me, but this is the driving scenario I'm currently living with.

I get fairly bored on my way anywhere if I'm the only person in the car, so I make up games for myself to play. The only game that I still find WILDLY entertaining is "Fuck that guy!"

Here's how you play. Maybe you play and you don't even realize it.

Step one: Start driving.
Step two: Pick a car. Any car. It's even more fun if the driver has wronged you in some way, like cut you off, or blazed ahead of you when you're already driving ten miles over the speed limit. Or driven too slowly, but you can't get into another lane (which is obviously their fault. Clearly). Whatever they've done, or haven't done, pick your car.
Step three: Get to wherever you need to before they do, and delight in every single thing that holds them up.
Step four: Every time they get held up, happily yell, "Fuck that guy!"

It's kind of like watching football. You're the Home Team, and those other guys can get fucked for all you care.

Here's when I noticed that I was playing.

A few nights ago, on my way home from class, there was what can only be described as a superfluous amount of road work being done, forcing drivers to merge into one lane. This is never, ever, ever pleasant, because people are dicks and don't want to let anybody in. Exerting brute force and being insanely aggressive is always necessary.

I was sitting in my car, feeling agitated and minding my own business, when I see lights coming up behind me, on the wrong side of the road. So I turn around, and what do my little eyes spy? Some ballsy mother fucker driving up the shoulder, gearing himself up to cut in on someone because he's more important and impatient than the rest of us. Who did he cut in on? ME. That. Fucking. ASSHOLE.

So, when the jam cleared up, I tailed him. I watched and rejoiced when people were driving too slowly for him, but he was forced to stay behind them because nobody in the lane next to him would let him dick move his way in front of them. It pleased me so greatly that when I finally drove ahead of him, I laughed out loud. I kept an eye on him, and when I took my exit ramp and he was still behind me, I felt victorious. Victorious enough to shout, "I win, asshole!"

And that's how the game started.

I don't always win, and I feel the crushing pangs of defeat when I don't. But it's grand when I do.

"Fuck That Guy!" is definitely available in all states, and it's fun for everyone!

I am no bird, and no net ensnares me.

I took a few days. They were fairly productive, but also kind of disappointing.

Here's what I've figured out:

People are awful creatures. They're self-serving. They lie and mislead. Not telling the truth by not saying a word is completely a thing, and I am more than tired of it. I spend a good deal of time doing things for other people, because I feel bad saying no. I'm not going to feel bad saying no anymore. I've got my own shit to deal with, and I don't want to add the bullshit of everybody else to that list.

It's terrible to understand that the people I care about most don't afford that same courtesy in a way that benefits all parties involved, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by this.

I know the things that are going on, even though I'm pretty sure it's widely believed that I'm in the dark. I'm not. I've just been hoping that people would have enough respect for me to be upfront as opposed to leaving it up to me to be the adult that says, "Hey. Is this actually what's going on? Because I know it is, and I wish you would just come out and say it instead of...you know...not." Onus is not on me to corner people into being honest. That's not right, and it's not fair. And I'm pretty damn positive that it if these people cared about me, they wouldn't put me in that position.

I've been feeling for a long while like I'm sitting in almost everybody's back pocket. It's not a nice feeling, and I think it's why I've been so sad the last few weeks.

I know I'm not perfect. I'm kind of a disaster, but I'm working on making it better. I HAVE been working on making it better for quite some time. I don't feel like I'm on an even keel with anybody, but I know that's my fault. I've allowed myself to be a doormat (but a weird kind of doormat. A doormat with a bit of a bad attitude every once and awhile), and that puts me below everybody. And this is why I'm seen as less than. And that's always been my biggest fear. I already have a complex about believing I'm worth less than everybody around me, and now I know why.

It's not like thinking I'm exceptionally smart puts me on a pedestal...I know everybody thinks I'm smart. I've made the crucial mistake of believing that because people think I'm smart that they see me at eye level. I no longer think that's the case. When people respect you, they're not mean to you because they know they can get away with it because you're just SO forgiving and understanding. They don't just take, take, take because they know you don't mind giving. They don't drag you by your hair through the ringer because they know you'll come out on the other end smiling, because you're just so fucking tough that you can handle it. When people respect you, it's never just you that makes concessions...equal limits are set, and nothing is just on one person's terms. That's not respect, it's abuse. And aside from being ultimately hurtful, it's also fucking boring and unoriginal.

I've had some conversations that have been quite the dose of real talk. Ugly self-actualizations are fucking bitter, but necessary. I can't really grow if I don't figure out the bad stuff and fix it.

On a more positive note, I've developed a quick and intense passion for scarves and leather jackets. I very happily took myself shopping the other day, and spent a lovely afternoon by myself, not giving a fuck. I had some lunch, puttered around stores, bought some scarves, a jacket, a pair of aviators, a big sweater, and some leggings (I see why that combo is a trend. Fucking COMFORTABLE. Jesus). I also bought a pair of insanely warm compression pants for running, because I'm going to try running again tomorrow when I get off of work. My toe has been feeling almost normal lately, and I am pretty confident that I'll be able to run at least a mile and a half. I'm obviously going to go for my full three miles, but it's been weeks since I ran, and I'm not going to push myself too hard. I just need to do something, because biking sucks balls. I also don't want to be enormous and disgusting.

And she said it all to an empty room.

I've taken an unintentional break from blogging. I've been busy with school and work and various other things. I did go out shooting the other night, but I was deeply dissatisfied with the results. 

I'm taking an on purpose break now. Effective after I'm done whining. 

My uncle died on Friday night (I started bawling in the middle of philosophy. Then I got drunk. Real drunk. Stevie and Mike came over and had bad food with me and we watched youtube and told stories and made each other laugh until almost 2am. It was fantastic). This doesn't really bum me out, aside from the obvious not having my cool uncle around anymore. He had cancer, and that shit blows. 

I'm having a really rough downshift. I'm trying to smile through it and not let it get to me. But it is. I feel like everything is wrong and I'm just so awful and useless and everything about me is ugly. Medication isn't helping, and I just don't want to deal. I don't want to be a drag on anybody's emotional economy, so I don't talk about it. These episodes are cripplingly lonely. It fucking hurts, and it's awfully dark in my head right now. 

I need a hug. An ocean of them. Kisses and pettings and all of the nice things. But they're all gone, gone, gone. 

I feel monochromatic and only partially alive. 

I suppose I'll come back when that changes. 

Throat Lozenges: The Loves of My Life and Other Tales By Ondrea Tucci

This is going to be a fairly photo heavy post. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry.

I went back through the photos I took on the plane. I was right to only post the one I did in my previous entry.

I've been busting my ass on writing papers and setting up presentations and doing quizzes and grinding my way through formulas (you know, doing all of the things I'm SUPPOSED to be doing), so I rewarded myself with two days of going out and taking photos. I didn't have much time to play with, so I went out shooting the other night after I got off of work, and then I took myself to the zoo today to take some pictures.

Here's the photo I liked best from going to GoG the other night:

Normally, that water isn't there. But due to the serious rains we had a few weeks ago, I was able to take a very typical reflection photo. I don't mind, though. I really like it.

Now, for the pictures I took today at the zoo. I went at 9, because I wanted to 1) avoid crowds and B) avoid crowds of children. I was successful at neither, and that put a bit of a damper on the morning. But I was still at the zoo, so there's that. I did get someone to take a picture of me as close to the snow leopard as I could (legally) get, and that pleased me greatly. I don't think I could take a selfie with my camera. Moving on!

The elephants are back! They weren't terribly active, but I think close-up shots of elephants are neat. I wish I could have gotten one with its eye looking at me, but this picture is just fine. I like it quite a bit.

Well hello, little meerkat! They have several new enclosures for these funny little guys, and in a later encounter, I set my pretzel down to take some pictures of them, and eight came running over to the glass next to my pretzel and started scratching at it furiously. I would have shared, but the zoo said that for my health and safety, I'd better not (I wouldn't REALLY have shared, pretzels are clearly not good for meerkats. Fritters are.).

Isn't he stoic looking? He was napping right in front of me, and he opened his eyes long enough for me to take this picture of him. I was chatting with a woman from New York, and she very kindly pointed out that he had woken up for a moment. That was perfectly lovely of her. 

I. Fucking. Love. Otters!!! I was bummed that this one was the only one out and about, but I'm glad I got this picture. I tried to get a picture of it swimming, and I was ALMOST successful (it could have been SUCH a great picture, too), but it was blurry. I was giggling rather gleefully, so blur was sort of a foregone conclusion. 

These were my favorite two pictures of the day. I wonder what he was thinking about. I bought a painting by an orangutan, as well. A very productive visit to the primate house. 

Fall has finally come to Colorado. It'll be gone in like, an hour, so I'm glad I snapped these while it decided hanging around was a good idea. I got the smallest taste of fall colors when I was in Michigan (it made me miss Ithaca so much. Ann Arbor reminded me of Ithaca almost exactly, so it was a very...surreal?...kind of homesick), and I was jealous that we didn't have them here yet. Hooray! They've arrived. And they're already getting ready to leave.

I walked through the zoo all by myself, broken toe and all. I felt very pleased, and pretty positive that I had just forced my body to heal itself. Now my foot is super swollen, and I regret it. But I think it was ultimately good for me. I've been walking on the right side of that foot for days (I try to not use my crutches, because I don't want to get complacent), and I made sure to correct every time I noticed myself doing it. I didn't limp all that much, but I'm definitely paying the price for my excursion now. I've decided it may be wise to use my crutches tonight for getting to and from class.