Throw Back Thursdays...?

I've been half considering posting some of my old writing here; mostly because I feel like I'm eventually going to run out of shit to talk about, and that would delay the inevitable for a little while. Are people still doing the Throwback Thursdays thing? I feel like that would be a good(ish) excuse to post old writing. I'm thinking about sharing some of the poems from my ill-fated poetry book from a few (read- more than I care to think about) years ago, also maybe some of the better posts from my old blog, perhaps one or two papers I wrote in college, and possibly even some random excerpts from some of my old notebooks. What do you guys think? Would anyone care to read any of that? I've been skimming through some of it lately, and I feel like most of it's a bit overly dramatic, but also somewhat more creative than the stuff I tend to write now. Could be interesting....or not, I don't know.

Because I'm Crazy

So you guys know how I've been working on doing pull-ups for a long time now. Well, I've finally gotten to the point where I feel like I'm pretty decent at it. When I first started I couldn't do very many at a time (actually, when I started out I couldn't do any at a time), so I started doing several sets within a short period of time, because I thought it would help me progress faster. I think it worked, because I have made quite a lot of progress. I always do them when I go to feed the pigs, and I would do three sets in the mornings and four sets in the evenings (because, for some reason, I can never do as many per set in the evenings). Here's the thing though, now that I can do more of them at a time, I've still been doing that many sets. It's become a pretty huge pain in the ass, and takes a long time to do. 

So finally I decided that I'm going to cut down the sets, just so that I won't have to dread feeding the pigs quite so much. I decided that I'm going to do two sets in the mornings, and one in the evenings, and that's it. The way I see it, now I can just keep increasing the number I do per set (I'm currently at 12) without it taking quite so much time. The problem is, now I'm kind of freaking out about it. I know it's insane, but my brain is like "NO! You can't do that! You'll lose all the progress you've made!" and I'm like "No, Brain, I'm still doing way more than I used to. It'll be fine." and my brain is like "No, I'm telling you. Your arms will turn to mush!" So yeah, I'm now trying to force myself to do less pull-ups and to believe that my brain is wrong. 

The Wrong Line of Work

I spent a couple of hours putting up hay, earlier today. It was really fucking hot, and I got really fucking sweaty, and I also got cover head-to-toe with little hay particles, and sort of sunburned. None-the-less, I really don't mind doing that sort of work. I always feel better about myself, and the work I've done when it's 1-something physical, and 2-something with measurable results. I really wish that almost all physical labor type jobs didn't require you to be there ridiculously early. I feel like, if I have to have a job that isn't actually something I want to do, that would be the next best thing. I just can't justify looking for a job that would require me to get up any earlier than I already do (which has been somewhere around 5:00, most days, recently). And skipping my workout (or most of the other things I do in the mornings, for that matter) is out of the question.

I don't share Dean's attitude about this sort of thing. 

It's Sort of a Niche Market

So you know the weird little belt/purse thing I made? Well, I'm thinking about making some other ones and trying to sell them in my Etsy shop, which will hopefully be up and running again sometime in the near future. You see, before I broke down and made one for myself, I looked everywhere; Etsy, Ebay, Amazon, etc. trying to buy one. Every one I could find was; ridiculously overpriced and/or leather and/or in another country and/or goofy looking. So it seems to me that this country has a serious shortage of cute, affordable, vegan, belt-bag things. Also, apparently these things go by many names, one of which is "utility belt" which is definitely what I am going to call them if I start selling them because.........

In Conclusion

Seriously, just this one last thing and then I'll move on, at least for a while. There is this idea that seems to be fairly common, that things like wearing makeup and shaving your legs are inherently somewhat oppressive to women. I disagree. To be honest, I can't really decide who got the short end of the stick on the whole makeup thing. I mean, yeah it kind of sucks that women are expected to look all perfect all the time. When I think about it though, I'm pretty glad that I get to wear makeup. I feel so much better about myself with it and, if I were a guy, I wouldn't be able to get away with wearing it. As girls, we get to basically paint ourselves to look however we want. Guys are pretty much stuck with what they've got. Unless, of course, they're actors.  

Okay, so Supernatural is not exactly the most feminist show on TV. Holy fuck do I love it though!  

Also, I think instead of women not shaving their legs, guys should have to start shaving theirs. I mean come one guys, body hair is pretty gross; and I, for one, don't want to touch anybody who is all furry anymore than you do. Just saying. 

Fucking Awesome

Last night, I stayed at my mom's house to watch the new Supernatural (which was fantastic as always, by the way) so I didn't get back to feed Riley and Tuni until after ten. Then, when I went to put the water buckets in the car, my entire car was covered in this layer of extremely fine frost. It was so thin that I couldn't even get it to scrape off. Well, I wasn't about to wait around for my car to warm up enough to melt it. So I just said "Fuck it!", and decided to drive it anyway. I mean the barn is like ten feet from the house. So I'm peeking through this tiny clear spot on the windshield, trying to make sure no cars are coming as I pull out. Unfortunately, I forgot how close I had parked to the fence and I drug the side of my car against the fence-post. Luckily, it was my shitty, rusted up car and not my mom's car. That doesn't really help the fence-post though.

At least I got to see the new Supernatural, right? 

It Is Possible that Our House Is Haunted (or that We Have Mice)

The last couple of days, there has been this weird-ass scratching, scurrying noise in the walls and ceiling of my bedroom. It doesn't seem to happen through the day, but at night it's really loud and almost constant. It's either a ghost or a shit-ton of mice. I know the mice are more likely, but I think I'll pretend it's a haunting to make my life a little more interesting. Somebody get me some salt rounds.

What Free Time?

I swear, my brain has this truly remarkable ability to fuck me over at every turn. I was really looking forward to having some free time for a while. I told myself that, now that I don't have to go to work at Goodwill, at least I will be able to get around to doing some of the things I have been wanting to do, and maybe even keep up with all of the housework type shit that I always let get ahead of me. Alas, my brain said "No, no. You will sleep straight through all three of your alarm clocks every day and never, ever, have enough time to do all of the things you want to do." That guy is such an asshole.

It doesn't help that I have a, kind of, sort of, almost, job now pretending to be an electrician. 

Supernatural+Animal Rights=the Very Best Thing Ever!

I knew there was a reason I put off writing my blog today. I just finished watching the Supernatural episode form last night and it was quite possibly my favorite episode ever! I am going to try not to ruin it for anyone, but there was a definite animal rights theme. At the beginning, I was pissed because I thought for sure it was going to be a whole episode making fun of, and possibly demonizing (no pun intended), animal rights activists. By the end though, there was a clear pro-animal message. The vegans were the good guys, even if they were "hippy freaks". Dogs should never be left in cars. The pound is a horrible depressing place. Even the smallest animals have impressive skills. Taxidermy is super fucking creepy. They even, at least to me, sort of highlighted the inherent insanity of eating animals. It was so great! Also, I think Dean definitely likes dogs now, yay!

The Good Old Days

I think I have mentioned here before how I tend to have an overly romanticized vision on my own past. Everything that has ever happened to me looks infinitely better in retrospect than it did at the time that it happened. Furthermore, it always looks better than whatever is currently happening in my life. I always find myself thinking that I just didn't appreciate how good I had it back then. The problem is, when I find myself looking back longingly on my previous experiences, how do I ever know how accurate my ideas about them are? How do I know if I should try to get back to that point or not? How do I ever know if things were really better then, or if I'm just forgetting all the bad stuff?

So Maybe I was Being Unreasonable

Okay, so maybe I really was being unreasonable before. I have still been talking to the guy I met on Vegan Passions and I think he wasn't actually being an ass after all. I guess I'm just so used to people being asses to me that I have learned to expect it. Anyway, he actually seems pretty cool.

Now to the point. We were talking about jobs and he said that no one actually loves their job, and that the people who say they do are really just saying that to make themselves feel better. I think he may be right. I know that's the case with most people, because most people don't get to do what they had always wanted to do with their lives. What I'm really wondering about is the people who do get to do what they had always wanted to do. Do you think that as soon as you start doing something professionally it automatically loses it's appeal? I think it very well may. We actually discussed this phenomenon in one of my psych classes once. I believe the theory was (something like) as long as you're doing something just because you enjoy it, you get an emotional reward from it. However, if you add in a monetary reward it sort of negates the emotional one, and all of a sudden the thing that used to be fun is now a hassle because "it's your job." What do you think? Does anyone actually love their job?

I mean, even Sam and Dean hate their job and they have the best job ever. 

Another One Bites the Dust

We are down yet another employee at Goodwill, one of the last remaining cashiers that I actually enjoyed working with. Fucking great. Since I have been back, this time, at least seven people have quit. We have lost, three utility workers, two cashiers, one wares person, and one manager. There may have actually been more, but they come and go so regularly that I can't even keep track of them anymore. The best part is, it always seems to be the ones I kind of like working with. The super annoying ones and the ones who don't really do their jobs are always the last to go.

I Need My Four Hours

Anyone who has ever tried to make plans with me can tell you that it takes me a really, really long time to get ready. For someone who works part-time and has absolutely no social life, I have shockingly little free-time. Somehow, everything I do takes ten times longer than it does for anyone else. Most of my day ends up being filled by the mundane daily tasks that I set for myself leaving little time to do anything fun, or especially productive. I know I should do something to remedy this situation; the problem is, whenever I try to choose things to cut from my daily list of activities, they all seem somehow important. When it comes right down to it, if I have to make room in my schedule for something extra, the only thing I'm willing to sacrifice is sleep.

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.

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.

There Must Be Some Mistake

I got my final grades back today and I really don't understand how this happened, but I ended up with four As and one B. I honestly have no idea how that is possible. I was expecting at least two or three Bs, and I would have been pretty much thrilled with a C in the one class that I did get a B in. Once again, I feel like a huge dumbass for deciding not to come back next semester. How can something be so easy and so hard at the same time? Furthermore, what the fuck is my problem?