Amish Way of Life; Chapter 2

My power went out. Again. For some reason, sneezing in this house seems to blow the fuse box. I don't mean that literally, I just mean that the littlest of things can destroy the fragile ecology that is my power grid. After suffering through Thursday, and calling into work on Friday, for more voluntary suffrage, I opted to stay with my mother. I love her dearly, but I seem to drive her batty when I'm around. Sometime between my taking over her couch and my dog crapping on her patio my welcome was worn out, luckily, right as the power was fixed. I packed my shit, stole some food from her fridge with a thank you, and went home. When I got home, I was surprised by how unwelcoming it looked to me. I dropped my stuff off in my room, looked around, cleaned up some, and turned on my main heater, which promptly started killing me with all my sinuses.

As I was digging through my blankets for my lost sock (I swear there is a sock-only-magnet connected to my bed that perpetually robs me of one, single sock. Just one. I'm not sure why the magnet doesn't want the other sock, perhaps it only has power for the one. Perhaps that one is all it needs for world domination. Only the magnet truly knows. And perhaps The Shadow.), I started wondering if visiting your parent(s) makes your home life seem crappier somehow in comparison. It's a nice feeling to have someone doting on you. It's kind of like romance. I've never really been woo-ed. I tend to do the spontaneous things for others, I've only ever been surprised on Valentines Day twice in my whole life. Once was back in high school when my boyfriend and his b.f.f. decided to try and outdo each other, which while it was nice, I always kind of knew it was more about them competing than me really. The other was a surprise gift from a friend last year. Beyond that, no boyfriend or "secret admirer" has ever swept me off my feet with some romantic gesture. No candle light dinners, no surprise present. Wait, I lie a little. Lee did send me a dozen roses in the mail the day before Valentines Day, but I think the reason I didn't think about it was because he had a girlfriend at the time and was cheating on her with me (unbeknownst to either of us). I kinda guessed he was gonna since he did a shitty job covering up asking for my address. Maybe that devalued it some too. I think the grandness of the gesture probably doesn't matter as much as the surprise or the effort.

Someone close to me said recently, "Seems like you just like to be surprised". Maybe that was more accurate that I realized until just now. Whether it's the ending to a movie, or a romantic gesture, perhaps it's the journey and not the destination that matters more to me.

Meh.. maybe I'm over thinking it, as always.

SLATFATF
~Å~

Blarg.

This post is hardly a post at all. It's more of a statement. It's 11 a.m. and I still haven't gone to sleep. I'm getting sick, and I don't want to go to work. I haven't a clue what to do on the matter, and the dark lord won't answer my "calls" no matter how many snack cakes or Twinkies I sacrifice in his name. Doesn't anyone have Satan on speed dial so I can make a pact for a little sleep? Maybe Oprah does...

SLATFATF
~Å~

For Insomnia, Press 103...

I miss the inside of my eyelids. I slept with them once and they never called me back. Must have lost respect for me or something. Now I can't seem to get good old Morpheus to even give me a second glance. (Woo! Almost wrote Mephistopheles! Talk about a slip-up! Devil: "I don't understand! I take their souls and then I never hear from them again! I mean, I'm funny, right? Am I too fat? What's wrong with me... It's my wings, isn't it? They make my butt look big, don't they?!")

I use to be completely pro-insomnia. I use to feel like a genius come 3 a.m. because by then, all my creative juices were flowing. I would come up with some of the best ideas for my writings-in-progress or for drawings... But now my insomnia seems to have no purpose other than playing Halo 3 until the sun comes up, disturbing my dog (who is, pardon the pun, getting bitchy...), and making me sleep until the sun is close to going down again. Maybe I should just give it up, commit to being a vampire, and start sucking blood. (Sorry, I can't go to Subway with you, I'm on an all liquid diet...)

People keep telling me to take this pill or that pill, but I can't help but think that drugging myself into unconsciousness isn't the right idea. Hell, it doesn't even seem like a good suggestion much less the solution! This whole insomnia thing wouldn't be such a pain in the ass if I could just find a hobby... (see Monday, January.. uh... not.. nows... post.)

Meh... Maybe I'll become a vampire slayer. (Blade, eat your heart out.)

SLATFATF
~Å~

P.S.

For the record, this is my Wednesday post. I just didn't get it in before most of civilization thought the day had switched over. (It's still Wednesday until I fucking go to sleep, damnit!)

"Nothing cures Insomnia like the realization you have to get up"

-Anonymous

Failsauce

Wow, talk about fail. So, it would seem that my attempt at a post on Tuesday did not take, so let me redo it from memory. Poorly, no doubt.

Let me start by stating I do not have a car. Nor do I have a driver's license. I have been "driving" with a learner's permit for what is most likely longer than allowed, or just long enough for me to get in major trouble. Whichever has the larger judicial impact (since that is my usual luck).

I went for a walk today with another to the "nearby" (45 minute walk there) Walmart (Where you can save money at the cost of sanity. If anyone ever gives me a gift card to Walmart, I will shoot myself. I do not want the gift of being forced to stand behind some fat lady with curlers in her hair as her 12 children run a muck and slowly convince me that perhaps today is the day to have my ovaries tied.) While I had no problem with the journey, my companion (who is a *gasp!* combustion engine volunteer pilot, a.k.a. drives something motorized by choice) more than a few times mentioned his displeasure with the endeavor. This brought to my attention that if laziness is the mother of invention, then convenience is the mother of laziness.

I think we, at least as Americans, would benefit from a Gasoline-Limitation Bill. Something that says you are only allotted so much gasoline per week or month. This would not only convince some of Americans to walk more often, but it would limit fossil fuels, and help fight national obesity. We would appreciate the outdoors more, maybe get a little sun, and help fight depression (15 minutes of sunlight a day is a natural anti-depressant!).

Maybe, just maybe, the people of America can try to do something to fix a few problems here and there instead of just bitching about them.

Now I'm gonna go move my Hummer.

Meh... Okay that wasn't the best closing joke.

SLATFATF
~Å~

Collecting collections..

I need a hobby. When I say I need a hobby, I mean I need a hobby or I will end up either going insane, eating myself to the point of being unattractive, or I will kill someone. Probably someone close to me because they will catch me at the worst time. I need a hobby to stimulate my mind, because I'm losing it. The only problem with me just up and picking a random-ass hobby is the fact I haven't any clue what I want to do. I have an interest in sculpting clay, but not the financial means. I enjoy drawing, but I just can't see it as a hobby. I write, I read; not hobbies to me. I don't want to paint, too messy. I haven't the financials to collect things, much less the patience. I don't want to take up a sport, or a language. They all seem more like chores than something I'd want to do. I am horrid at knitting, I'll get too frustrated with jewelry making, and I don't think video games count. They just seem to waste my time.

Oh my god, I can't believe I just said that sentence.

Video games seem to do nothing but waste my time.

I actually think I'm starting to outgrow them. I never play them when I'm alone now days. I mean, I do, but I don't. I dunno. It's an odd sentence to make... at least for me.

Back to the topic at hand. Or should I say the topic not at hand? It just feels like I can't seem to get a grasp on my missing hobby. There simply has to be something that screams "Andrea". I don't want to pick up a hobby that has me sitting on my ass, but I don't want to sweat up a storm either.

.. Fuck >_<.

... I hate hobbies. v_v.. sorry this blog sucks. Shoulda been done on Sunday.. but I fucked around, watched Dead Like Me (Season 2), and now it's 2:30 a.m. Since I haven't gone to sleep yet, it still counts as Sunday.. yeah?

Meh.. Fuckin' 'obbies.

SLATFATF
~Å~

P.S.

This was the worst ranty-blog that made absolutely no sense what so ever.. um.. ever. Sorry, mates.

Resolutions Pollution

A New Year's Resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other. I've decided to give this thing a real shot as one of mine. I tend to avoid/shy-away-from things like blogging, tweeting (twittering? twitterpating? being all atwitter?), myspace, facebook, etc etc etc. It is my logic that the people who matter in my life will know where I am without having to check a website. They'll know what I've done recently, and even what has been done to me without having to constantly check the postings at some virus-contaminated replacement for good-old-fashioned staying in contact. I don't even text-message because it is my opinion that if it's important enough that you want to tell me it, you'll pick up the god damned phone (the same one you're rapidly punching the keys of in order to send me some garbled abbreviated jumble that I must then track down 3 Russians and a codex in order to decipher) and call me! If not, then it's probably just some little animated-pixelated-gif of a leprechaun shaking his naked-buttocks at me, with the original and catchy slogan of "kiss me i'm irish" hidden somewhere amongst the labyrinth of forwards-to addresses and demands for me to send this to everyone on my contacts list or else my penis will rot off in front of the girl I am madly in love with by next Tuesday and I'll never find true happiness or my keys for all of eternity (which is one hell of a feat since I'd have to grow a penis and become a lesbian in order for that fate to come to unfurl. A hell of a lot to do in the span of 4 days.)

So, hatred aside, I'm going to spew my ramblings and opinionated mental expectorations on this matrix of the macabre we call the web-blog. May God protect me. Or some all-powerful-being. Maybe a little prayer to the divine Oprah.

Meh, blogs.

SLATFATF
~Å~

P.S.

I still hate these things. And all of you. Okay, maybe that's the old me speaking. But I do still find this all trite and pointless.

Boredom: Mother of Invention

I decided to pick this up again, admittedly, it was a bit fun being sarcastic in a place easily accessible. October, as anyone who knows me and reads this (so... no one...) already knows, is my favorite month of the year. The weather (at least in Texas) starts changing, Halloween is right around the corner, I get to decorate the house, and the telly plays spookeh-moovehs 24-7. What is not to love?! (Unless you are a person who gets sick from the weather changing, think Halloween is the devil's holiday, and abhore gore... so... probably that big fat dude that does documentaries. Michael Moore. That's the guy. Man, almost typed Roger Moore o_O; ).

I was going to do a Halloween costume this year, get me a little red riding hood outfit, add a torn throat, some slashes and gashes, fuck up my hair, add some fake leaves, tear up some fishnets, and bam. Little Dead Riding Hood. Big bad wolf got me. Unfortunately, I can't seem to get a break in the finances, so frivolous spending is out the window. Much like fun. And laughter.

I can't even fund myself a punkin' to carve. How sad is that? I should draw a picture of a punkin all carved up and put a wanted sign outside of my house. Add it to the decorations... Man that made me depressed just reading that.

I really was gonna say something meaningful in this post, but I got a bit sidetracked throwing myself a Halloween Pity Party... It's lonely when you're the only one at the party... for pity... for yourself... cause you can't get a needless holiday related item (or 2). Wow, I sound like a spoiled brat, lol. In my mind I just went "There are people starving in Africa!". Do you think people in Beverly Hills say things like, "There are people who can't get a slutty costume this year, Jessica, think about those poor people down in Texas!"...

Yeah Jessica. You fucking spoiled bitch.

SLATFATF
~Å~

p.s. I feel guilty every time the place I think of as "unfortunate" ends up being Africa. There are plenty of other places where people don't have food, shoes, or education... like Alabama.