Not My First Choice

Some of you may know that there is sort of this running joke (?) in my life about me looking like Betty Boop. It all started six or seven years ago when I was on a road trip with a couple of friends. The woman working at the desk in the hotel we were checking into said "You probably hear this all the time, but do you know who you look like?" I, of course, said "No, who?" with genuine curiosity, because I had never been told that I look like anyone. Then she said "Betty Boop." I thought she was completely insane. Not only did she think that I looked like a cartoon character, but she thought that I looked so much like a cartoon character that other people must point it out to me all the time. Here's the weird part, after that initial time from the woman at the hotel, I did start hearing it all the time! I have probably been told that I look like Betty Boop twenty times over the last few years. I had actually started to think that I had outgrown the resemblance because no one had said anything about it for at least a year or so. Then today some customer at Goodwill says to her friend "Look at her (meaning me). Who does she look like to you?" And I started thinking "Oh no. Please don't say Betty Boop!" Her friend juts kind of shrugged, so she shouts "Betty Boop! She looks just like Betty Boop!" Then, everyone in the general vicinity starts laughing and saying "She really does!" Son of a bitch. I thought I was done with this shit. Why can't I look like someone cool, or sexy, or badass, or at least someone with a head that is proportionate to her body?

Shape Shifter

I change. Constantly, dramatically, irrevocably. I am always developing new habits, new looks, new tastes. I become new people, different people. I am always searching for the person I want to be, the person I was born to be. When I was a kid, back in elementary school, we had to write a paper about someone we wished we could be. I wrote that I just wanted to be myself. I guess my self-esteem was a little higher back then. The truth is, there's still no one particular person I would want to trade places with. Instead I sneak around and pluck little pieces off of other people and keep them for myself, fitting myself together like a puzzle made up of the stolen bits of those I admire. A word here, a walk there, a smile, a gesture; absorbing them all and making them my own. Sometimes, though, I wonder who I do this for. Why do I go through all this trouble of constructing a new person over and over? Am I really doing it for myself or am I just hoping that someday I'll become someone that will appeal to some imagined soul-mate? Do I try on a thousand different faces hoping to find one that properly fits my skull or am I just looking for one that shines bright enough to guide the right person to me?

First poem in a while. Don't judge it too harshly. Normally I go through a lengthy editing process, but I just wrote this one on the spot. 

I'm Radioactive

I feel like I am a fucking nuclear reactor with this paper thin sheet of insulation that keeps me contained. I'm completely safe until one little thing goes wrong and then everything goes to hell. Sometimes I don't even realize how angry, and frustrated, and disappointed I am with my life until I'm suddenly completely furious over something that really shouldn't be that big of a deal. I feel like I have the whole world (including myself) fooled into thinking that I'm, at least somewhat, well-adjusted when the truth is that I am eternally on the brink of catastrophe.

Yes, the title is a reference to the Imagine Dragons song. I have to listen to the radio on my way to work because the CD player in my mom's car is broken. This song plays all the time and I have grown to like it. 

Happily Ever After

I was thinking today about the whole concept of "happy endings." I came to the conclusion that there is no such thing. When a story ends happily, what has really happened is that the writer has decided to stop writing at a point where things are going well. If he or she had continued writing long enough things wouldn't have inevitably gone downhill until no one was happy anymore. I guess that's why I tend to be fond of depressing endings; they are more honest. I prefer stories that end with some sort of purpose or meaning, but not with everyone being all joyful and feeling like everything is perfect. That shit never lasts. Even on the off chance that the perfection could last, the story will always end sad; because the end of something wonderful is always sad. Even the most improbably amazing love story ultimately ends when one of the people dies. That is never going to be happy. That's why people who write happy endings don't ever really write clear to the end; if they did, there would be no such things as a story with a happy ending.

1- I had intended to post this last night, but Hughesnet said nay. 

2- I really didn't intend for it to be so depressing but, since it turned out that way, I decided to run with it and use the Donnue Darko gif. 

Hooray! Kind of.....

I got my first paycheck today. I was super excited......until I actually looked at how much money I made. Then I was highly disappointed and slightly terrified about my future. It turns out I will be making just about enough money to buy myself a nice cardboard box to live in. Whatever, it's more than I had before. Fuck math and logic and responsible budgeting. I have money!

There'll Be Days Like This

I'm having one of those days that just make me feel bored, frustrated and useless. Not because of anything that actually happened, or didn't happen. Every once in a while I just get this inexplicable urge to do SOMETHING, anything, interact with the rest of the world in some way. Unfortunately, having the urge to do something does not provide me with any ideas about what that should be. So instead, I just sit around and wish like hell that I had a fucking life. That's alright, it'll pass. By tomorrow I'll probably hate everything again and just want to hide from everyone.

Shedding

I swear I must shed at least ten times as much as the average person. I had forgotten because my hair has been so short for such a long time. Now that it's starting to grow out though, it's ridiculous! I don't even understand how it's possible; at this rate I should be bald by now but instead I still have this insane mass of hair. Plus, now that it's getting longer, I keep messing with it all the time which makes it fall out even more. Then I end up with little piles of hair all over my shoulder and the back of my neck.

I Don't Know Why

I have this inherent need to feel tough all the time. I was thinking today about some of the things I do to make myself feel like a badass. Then I thought "You know what? It's been too long since I posted a completely pointless list!" So here you go.

1. Drink black coffee. I don't know exactly why this makes me feel tough, but it does. Back when I was at WVU, drinking 151 had a similar effect. 

2. Refuse to sleep in, even when I don't have anything to do. 

3. Wear basically the same clothes whether it's 15 degrees or 98 degrees outside. 

4. Make myself do every exercise on on the DVD just a little more intensely than they tell me to. 

5. Carry furniture at work every chance I get. 

6. Occasionally challenge myself by eating food that is hotter than even I like it. Those who know me can tell you that is pretty fucking hot. 

7. Refuse to show most emotions. 

8. Constantly try to do things that I was previously unable to do. (Currently, I'm working on pull-ups)

9. Refuse to treat wounds, even though this results is nasty looking scars from unimpressive injuries. 

10. Never show fear; not during scary movies, not that time I went to Fright Farm, not when people intentionally try to scare me, not when I got threatened by Ed the Brahma bull. 

I had intended to go with the classic version of this, with Neil deGrasse Tyson. However, this owl looks totally unimpressed, and I thought that was more appropriate. 

Maybe I'm Not as Crazy as I Thought. Maybe.

Remember a long time ago when I said that I sometimes feel like my dreams are sometimes premonitions of exceedingly mundane things? Well I found someone to corroborate my theory! I have been reading The Witches' Way (I know, I've been reading it forever, but I keep reading novels at the same time and getting wrapped up in them and forgetting about it). Anyway, the authors mention the idea that "dreams may often use precognitive material, not necessarily significant in itself, but as the simple bricks and mortar of the manifest content." Manifest content being the true meaning behind the dream. I know it sounds totally crazy, but you never know it could be true. Even if it's not, at least there are other people in the world who are crazy in the same way I am.

Back! Back I Say!

Well, work today wasn't quite as terrible as I expected. It was boring as fuck for about two hours and then completely crazy for the rest of the day, but ultimately it was okay. My biggest problem was that for some reason I decided that, even though I got up at four, I didn't really need to take any coffee with me. Mistake! Also, some old woman informed me, while I was ringing up her stuff, that she had just puked in our bathroom. This caused me to 1- be incredibly glad that I didn't have to clean the bathrooms, 2-have a nearly irresistible urge to run away from her and 3- want to disinfect everything in the store (including myself). Instead of doing those things I just tried to convince myself that she was simply old and sickly (which she obviously was) and not contagious, then I went and washed my hands for about five minutes.

In my mind I was definitely doing this at her. 

Just Like That

It's amazing how easily I go from "You know, everything really isn't so bad right now." to "Fuck! I hate my life!" Remember how I said I was going to order some new boots when I got paid? Well, I decided that the ones I have now just weren't going to make it that long. So I ordered a new pair about a week ago. They still haven't gotten here yet and, yesterday, the zipper on one of my boots broke. So I now have to safety pin it closed every day. Also, the sole is now starting to fall off. Furthermore, I was really counting on my day off tomorrow. You see, Sundays were always my days off when I worked at Goodwill before, because I work night shift and there is no night shift on Sundays seeing as how they close at five. So today I finally remembered to look at the schedule for next week and guess what? I have to work tomorrow. So now I get to get up ridiculously early so I can walk around and trip over my dilapidated boots all day. Fucking great!

I Want to Do that!

Today, we were supposed to go grocery shopping but instead my sister and I went to see The Conjuring. I will say, I was pleasantly surprised. It was the best horror movie I have seen in quite a while. Supposedly it was based on the actually files of this couple called Warrens who were paranormal investigators. Who knows how much of the movie was actually true (probably not much) but if even a tiny bit of it was, I want to do that! I tried to convince my sister to hunt ghosts with me, but she vehemently refused :(

People Person? Really?

I think I mentioned once before that, when I was a kid, I wanted to be an actress. Well, maybe I should have followed through with that. Today at work, someone called me a "people person". Anyone who actually knows me could tell you that is about as far as you could possibly get from what I really am. I just put on this other persona when I'm at work. I guess most people probably do that to some extent, but mine seems to be especially convincing because I seem to have not only the customers but all of the other employees thoroughly fooled.

Most of the time, when I deal with customers, I feel like Anya. 

Get Out!

You know what I fucking hate? When stupid songs that I have to listen to at work get stuck in my head and follow me home! They always play country music at the Fairmont Goodwill, they always have and they probably always will. It bugs the shit out of me, but I can deal with it. What I can't deal with is when I leave work and find myself quietly humming "redneck crazy" for the rest of the night!

I really wanted to find a picture of Chris from Family Guy yelling at Meg to get out of his head. Instead I kept finding pictures of Kylie Minogue, so I just decided to go with it. 

The Obsessess

Last night my friend (and most loyal and valued reader), Rachel, shared this thing from the Oatmeal, in which the writer talked about "The Blerch".  Apparently the Blerch is a "fat little cherub" who follows him around and tells him to be lazy and eat terrible food and generally let his life go to shit. When I read this I was like "I have one of those too!" The more I thought about it though, I realized that mine is a little different. Instead of telling me not to do things it tells me to do lots of things; lots of stupid, pointless, time consuming things that end up taking up time that I should be using to do things that actually matter. Also, it doesn't tell me to eat terrible food; it juts tells me to eat A LOT of food. I have decided to call her the Obsessess, because once she gets an idea in her head she does not let it go. She is the reason that I will watch an entire series in record time, find a board I like on Pinterest and look at every last pin even if there are hundreds of them and it's 2am, the reason I will no longer let myself buy corn chips, and the reason I am always late for everything.

Free Hugs

Tonight at work, I saw one of the regular customers who used to talk to me all the time. Actually he used to, kind of, hit on me all the time. This one is probably at least twice my age, but not creepy like most of the older guys who hit on me. He actually seems like a pretty cool guy, if a bit weird (not that I'm one to talk). Anyway, he came into the store tonight and got really fucking excited when he saw me. He said seeing me made his day, then he hugged me (which is probably against company policy).

It was pretty cool seeing him actually. He always gives me a nice confidence boost. 

I've Got a Jar of Dirt! I've Got a Jar of Dirt!

Today, along with the normal everyday items that I absurdly overpay for, I paid ten dollars for a jar of dirt. That's right, I paid ten dollars for dirt, at Tractor Supply no less. You see, when was at Farm Sanctuary, I learned that diatomaceous earth is supposedly good for getting rid of parasites; fleas, mites, lice, etc. Since all of my animals seem to have fleas (and incidentally happen to sleep in my bed. Gross!) and I am vehemently opposed to using chemicals on them I decided to give it a try. We'll see what happens. I must say, I'm pretty sure whoever came up with the idea of selling jars of dirt is probably having a really good laugh right now.

This Is Why I Can't Have Nice Things

Today when I went on lunch, two of the guys who work in the back were also on lunch. Normally I just sit by myself and read during my lunch, but they were already sitting at the table in the break room, so I sat down with them. Now a normal person would have just had a conversation with them; which probably would have been nice, you know actual human interaction and whatnot. Instead, they asked me a few questions (which I tired to answer like a human would) and then things got uncomfortable. So I just returned to my book, which seemed like it would be less awkward, but it wasn't. Then there was just them sitting there not saying anything and me sitting there kind of reading but mostly just silently cussing myself out for being so very fucking socially incompetent.

Had I not started reading I was afraid I would look like this. 

Remember Me

I have been really amazed at how many customers at Goodwill still remember me, even though I haven't worked there in over a year. So far, I have worked three days and every day at least three or four people have made comments like "I haven't seen you in a while" or "Where have you been?" or "You're back." To be fair, some of these people are in there nearly every day, but it still seems weird to me that something about the way I put their used clothes and old knickknacks into bags was worth remembering for a year. It's kind of nice though.

Don't Make Me Do Stuff

It's funny, and by funny I mean incredibly weird and irritating, how I can only seem to make myself do anything when I feel like I have no choice. On the days when I have tons of free time, I end up wasting my whole day and accomplishing nothing. I honestly get twice as much done before I leave for work than I get done on an entire day off simply because I know I have to get it done before I leave. What the fuck is my problem?

I Rarely Have Wealth

Now that I finally have a job here are a few of the things I am going to spend my vast wealth on. (You know, the vast wealth I am going to gain from my part-time, minimum wage job.) In no particular order.
1. A car. I'm sort of torn between buying another cheap, crappy car that I won't have to make payments on for the rest of my life and buying one that I actually want. Either way though, I have to get one.
2. New boots. I love the ones I have, but they are literally falling to pieces on me.
3. New tattoos, several of them.
4. A yoga mat. I have been using a carpet and my feet keep sliding and it bugs the shit out of me.
5. New sheets. I have two sets and one of them is full of holes.
6. New socks. Pretty much all of them are full of holes.
7. A good bra. You know like one that actually fits me and doesn't make my tits look all lopsided.
8. A camper, trailer, yurt, shack, shed, something to live in. Obviously, this one will take a while no matter which one I choose. But eventually.
9. A punching bag. This will actually save me money in the long run, what with the cost of patched walls and such.
10. All of the everyday things I have been running out of for the past couple of months because I couldn't afford to buy them.

Sink or Swim

I was fairly nervous about going back to Goodwill today. I have been away for over a year and I had been informed that several things had changed since I last worker there. Plus I have this irrational fear that I will lose my ability to count correctly, especially after not having anything to do with numbers or money for a long time. Anyway, they decided to let me ease back into things today by sticking me on register by myself for the better part of the evening. Thanks guys! In all honesty, it worker out alright. Having to do all of it myself prevented me form having enough time to get bored. Also, I think I actually got flirted with by a guy who was NOT old and creepy.

My 5th First Day at Goodwill

I start work tomorrow. I was thinking about it and, in a way, this will be my 5th first day at Goodwill. There was my first day at the Morgantown store (which was my actual first day), there was my first day at the Fairmont store (after I transferred from Morgantown), there was my second first day at the Fairmont store (after I quit for a while and came back), there was my first day at the new Fairmont store (after they moved while I was working there), and now here we are at first day number five. I really don't think this is how this whole thing normally works. It's funny though, I'm actually kind of looking forward to it in a way. It's probably just that I've been so bored and so broke for so long, but I feel better about it this time around, I think.

Only Buffy and I could have so many first days at the same place

Stupid Cybermats!

For some reason, my dad's house has a tendency to attract a ridiculously large number of mice. We have one of those no-kill traps that just locks them in a little box and then you go release them somewhere. Well, tonight it caught one and I walked him down near the pig barn to release him. Apparently, he didn't particularly want his freedom because he clung to the inside of the trap and wouldn't come out. I had to stick my finger inside to try to coax him out and, when I did, he bit me! What the fuck, mouse? I was trying to help you! I think he might have been one of these.

Back to the Start

As I mentioned yesterday, it looks like I'm going back to Goodwill. I'm not even bothered about this so much because I don't want to work there, it really wasn't all that bad, it's just that I feel like I keep going in circles. Every time I try to do something different with my life I end up right back where I started. When I really stop and think about it, I'm not entirely sure that I've ever actually made any progress in my life at all. In fact, I'm not even sure what I would consider progress to be.

So, We Meet Again

After a great deal of waiting, and hoping, and even a bit of half-assed praying, I have reached the end of my rope on the whole "find a job I actually like" front. So today I finally broke down and went to talk to the people at Goodwill about getting my old job back. I have to go talk to them again tomorrow, but it's looking like I'm going back to being a cashier. How is it that I keep ending up in the same places (both literally and figuratively) over and over again?

Nostalgia

Tonight I went with my mother, my sister, and my sister's boyfriend to watch the fireworks in Mannington. I really don't like fireworks at all, I get bored with them very easily and the ones that I don't find boring I find annoying. Plus Mannington does everything shittily. However, I hadn't actually left the house in three days, so I thought I might as well go with them.  Anyway, as expected, the fireworks sucked. But we all walked over to the park together to watch them, which was nice. It was funny though, I hadn't been in that park for a long time and it felt weird to be there again. It's not even that I spent all that much time there as a kid, it's just that I automatically associate it, or certain parts of it, with childhood. So anyway, I spent half the time wandering around and looking at the park and marveling at how much it has changed since I was little. It was one of those really sad things that I seem to enjoy for some fucking reason.

Brief and Intermittent Motivation. Also, Indecision

I actually got motivated for a little while today and made a couple of pairs of earrings. If I manage to get motivated again in the next few days I just might even put them on Etsy, maybe. Anyway, I was hoping for some advice. I made the earrings with these tiny little bottles that my sister found for me. What I'm trying to decide is, should I put things in the bottles or leave them empty? I was considering using either salt or herbs with supposed magical properties. Also, if I do put things in them, should I print up little labels for them? I was thinking, if I use salt, maybe I would make labels that say "a circle of salt to protect you". What do you think? Should I keep it simple or go all out? I know it would be much easier if I posted pictures of the earrings so you would know what I'm talking about, but my camera is shit and I'm lazy.

I found this picture rather adorable. Apparently it's by Luke Chueh. 

Just Thought I'd Share

Lately I've been reading up on Wicca. This actually started because I was going to make those necklaces I mentioned a long while back. Unfortunately, that never actually happened and now I am just reading about it because it's interesting and I have nothing better to do with my time. Anyway, I am currently reading The Witches' Way and there is this one part that I think is really cool and I just thought I would share it with all of you, mostly because I have nothing better to talk about tonight. There is this story about the "descent of the Goddess" and the whole thing is kind of interesting, but it ends with this little paragraph that I just love for some reason. It goes like this....

"For there are three great events in the life of man: Love, Death and the Resurrection in the new body; and magic controls them all. For to fulfill love you must return again at the same time and place as the loved one, and you must remember and love them again. But to be reborn you must die and be ready for a new body; and to die you must be born; and without love you may not be born; and this is all the magics."

I don't know, I just think there's something really beautiful about that. Also, it always bugged the crap out of me when everyone on Buffy always pluralized the word "magic" since I had never heard anyone do that before. Well, apparently it's a real thing. Who knew? besides Wiccans I mean.

Too Close

We all look at ourselves too closely. We lean toward mirrors and meticulously inspect every wrinkle, every pore, until the flaws are all we can see, until our faces and our bodies no longer make sense to us. We pick ourselves apart one piece at a time hoping desperately to exchange each part for one of another size, another shape, another color. We walk through our day bartering with those around us, silently begging them to trade us their lips, their eyes, their flat stomachs, never knowing that at the very same time they are frantically searching for someone to give them bigger breasts, thicker hair, or longer legs. Because you see, it's easy to look perfect from a distance. We view others from across streets, across rooms, or across tables and wonder how it is that they mange to be so beautiful. But we seldom get the chance to see ourselves from far away. We are so focused on every little detail that we barely even know what we look like as a whole person. Every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror that I didn't know was there and for just a moment I think "Who is that? She's pretty." Then I look closer and realize that it's the same girl with the big nose, and the bad skin, and the stomach that always sticks out just a little, no matter how many sit-ups she does. We look at ourselves too damn closely. If we could just take a few steps back, maybe we could all see how beautiful we are. But we can't, because we are all flawed structures built for the specific purpose of slowly tearing ourselves down. It's what we do. It's all we've ever known.

^This picture means it's a poem, just in case you forgot. 

Let Them Wonder

Yesterday, my sister bought a couch for her new apartment, and today my dad and I went to help her pick it up. She doesn't actually get to move into the apartment just yet, so we had to bring it to my dad's shop to store it for her. Well, my dad's shop is a bit....um....full. So we had to lift the couch up and sit it on top of a table. Yeah, I don't know, it wasn't my idea. Anyway, I got my end of the couch up to about eye level and then it tipped off of my left hand and slid down my bicep before coming to rest on the table. So now I have couch burn running from my shoulder to my elbow. It's not terribly obvious right now, but I have a feeling that it might be somewhat impressive tomorrow. I would be rather interested to know what sort of explanations people will come up with when they see it. They will be all.....