It's easy when things are easy

I didn't realize how much my living situation was really stressing me out until now, about one month out of it, I thought to myself, "Gee, I haven't thought about such and such."

For almost two years since I moved out of my dear friends' house (which was the best and easiest living situation I had ever had) I've been struggling with living situations that really got me down.

What started as an effort to build a small community, or unit, morphed into a nightmare. I grew to dread almost every normal interaction, and ultimately gave up on the idea that the house where I lived could ever really feel like a home. I had initially put a good deal of effort into my "first" home on my own in the real world.. And in exchange I was met at best with a lack of compatibility--consideration--and at worst with violent hostility.

The last few months living in that house, I stopped eating dinner altogether. I just couldn't bear seeing anyone. I'd get home, perhaps take a plate of crackers up to my room, clean, read, fall asleep.

It took a very frightening wake up call to get the heck out, and while it was scary, traumatic, disruptive, I'm really glad that it happened. I feel safe now. I come home and think about what I will cook and whether anybody else will be there to share it with. I am here, and here I can mostly just be me, still mindful of basic considerations, but not so mindful as to fuck up every now and then (cough, drunken sleep walking?) and get away with a crimson face and a good laugh.

Bottom line: I hate it when people say that some hardship will toughen my hide, or for one reason or another I actually need things to be difficult. That's bullshit. It's easy when things are easy, and I'm not in any way wishing things were different.

holy jesus fuck and a half....

I got a little too drunk last night....not sure how it happened so quickly......

Woke up in my bed, not sure where my cellphone was or how I even got there....

aaaaand.

When I skyped my cellphone and finally found it, there was a text from my house mate asking whether I thought HIS room was my room..............

I was like. WHAT DID I DO. I DO NOT DO THINGS LIKE THAT.....WHAT.....

Scary thought to have...apparently I just got confused and walked in, and walked to his closet as though it was mine?

Remember when I said I thought my life was just a long line of highly mortifying experiences strung all together for the world to laugh at....

Well, furies, add this one to the list.

Hi

Missed you guys, and my little thinking room on the internet.

Haven't had much room for thought recently.

As most of you know, November fucking sucked.

But now I'm better. New house, new (and old) friends, new dress. GREAT new blouse, for that matter.

Fresh, happy, decorated. Put up paper chains and the little silver tree. All is well.

I have some good blog entries thought up in my little head, so stay tuned, kay?

xoxoxoxoL

Oh boy

I just read this article in Psychology Today and learned some harrowing facts about my procrastination habits.

Well, at least I'm trying to get over the whole process of self-deception, and to start self-regulating just a little bit better. It did actually really freak me out.

A Picture of Dorian Grossies

Turns out my post about old underwear has put my blog on the international bloggomap. People from Japan, Russia, Ukraine, Indonesia, Canada, Germany, Sweden, Italy, Egypt, India and Slovakia are looking at my dingy old underwear! And there are new ones each day... Gosh, international attention has never felt so....skeezy.

Now I know what to put in the meta tags for my website!

I'd always choose flight over invisibility.

Flight, always flight.

If you could have a superpower, what would it be?

Still flight.

Why?

If you had to choose between flight and invisibility, which would you choose and why?

Icing sur le cake

Thursday!

Parking Ticket

Friday!

I was hit on by the son of this woman who was hosting a party that I had to go to for work.

So get this. Instead of introducing himself to me, this 29-year-old guy, red chest hair peeping prominently through his barely-buttoned oxford, and red wine in hand at 3:00 pm, said: "I have to show you my bedroom."

Well, seeing no other choice in the matter, as my delicate social being was paralyzed with shock and horror, I followed the 29-year-old bare-chested, wine-bearing man into the depths of his rich parents' apartment (where, mind you, he STILL LIVED!) so that he could show me his bedroom. As I slunk farther away from civilized humanity, I heard one of the hostess's friends mutter under her breath, "Well, that's a tactic I've never heard before!"

That made two of us...

Well, he showed me his room which had...are you ready for this....LEOPARD PRINT CARPET, which, according to him warranted my witnessing its existence (since I happened to be wearing blue, totally different, cute and conversely rather tasteful leopard print stockings ;-) ). But, the show didn't end there--what I saw will haunt me for the rest of my days... On top of the leopard print carpet sat a twin-sized bed, dressed with a brown paisley patterned duvet cover, a brown paisley which had somehow been cloned against its will and reborn as wallpaper, which covered every non-leopard surface in the tiny bedroom. Before I blanked out, I think I did see a couple board games and a desktop PC....

Well--in any case, my quick observations just outside the threshold of this chamber came of course as some relief to me and my instincts for basic survival for three reasons. Firstly, as the bed was a twin, then certainly the worst of what he might have possibly been advertising could somewhat easily have been avoided through some simple clumsiness of the elbow or knee. Secondly I'm sure if I ran in one direction or another, he'd hardly be able to find me as my leopard stockings might have a zebra-herd effect on him. And thirdly that should I have actually stepped foot into the room itself, I am certain that I might have gone into a severe state of sensory overload and subsequent paraplectic shock, leading most likely to a swift loss of consciousness and hopefully some decreased memory of the whole fiasco which might then have allowed me to sleep peacefully.

Fortunately, I told him his little room was nice and bolted in the opposite direction.

Later the same night I was also hit on by a French black man named Prince who made me blush. And I ate some cookies.

Saturday!

Went on with little strain or injury, most likely in order to prepare me for the next happy set of occurrences! (Shucks, don't you hate it when that happens?)

Sunday!!!!

I got into a car accident when some idiotic, probably drunk, jerk nearly t-boned my dad's fancy prius while I was driving a friend and my sister to tea. Yay car crashes!

Then I got a fever and felt pretty dizzy and had chills. Yay fever illness!

Then I was berated by another (yes, different) diva-man artist. And this time I DID start crying (after I hung up). Yay egotistical assholes!

Then I fell asleep for about 24 hours and now I feel much better, but what the hell!?!

Slept through all of Monday and find myself here, on Tuesday, still reeling.

Hey, maybe this is the price I need to pay for next week, when I'll undoubtedly get laid.

* * *

Great news, however, on the flipside: I figured out why all these people in the Ukraine, Germany and Indonesia have been reading my blog! They all searched google for the term "panties" or "kiddy panties" and found my post about the Dorian Panties! Too bad they found a shriveled, scanned version of what they were looking for...

...Um, gross?