tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-125862192024-03-23T11:24:22.883-07:00Little TragediesMomento MoriNeko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.comBlogger410125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-42711353623024243252014-03-05T15:14:00.002-07:002014-03-05T15:14:55.567-07:00Story 1. Part 1.Alex was one of the lucky ones. At least, that's what she told herself when she felt insecure about her decision. Leaving Denver was definitely what she'd wanted; there were no doubts in her mind about that. It was the hellhole of her youth and she didn't bother to veil her contempt when the ladies at the shop cooed with envy during the interview. People worldwide, it seemed, believed that anywhere in Colorado just <i>had</i> to be Paradise. It somehow conjured visions of azure skies backlighting an endless wonderland of peaks, glittering with ski resorts and high country rock climbing opportunities. Alex cursed them all to be forced to drive through the eastern half of the state and on through Kansas. She wanted every person whose eyes moistened with longing at the thought of a Rocky Mountain high to be buried six feet deep in snow. In their cars. She was one of the lucky ones who got out. Hell - if there was one - was spending your entire life suffocating in the town of your birth, no matter where that town happened to be. <br />
<br />
But after nearly a six months in Austin, it still didn't feel like home...Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-11609387803695841032014-02-26T09:57:00.003-07:002014-02-26T09:57:24.855-07:00FantasyYou know what? Screw this.<br />
<br />
Real life is just too much to bear in any conventional way. I'm retreating into fantasy and I'm taking this blog with me. Maybe my imagination will rescue me from this hell I'm living in. If I'm going to be forced to live (because I'm a coward), then it might as well be by pretending I'm somewhere else.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-75667271627972499892013-05-16T13:31:00.001-07:002013-05-16T13:31:19.403-07:00I Don't Think You Appreciate Just How Cool I'm BeingIt was a bad idea and a good idea, moving in with S.P.<br />
<br />
It's been about two weeks now. I'm trying to save up to move out of state, my lease was up, and S.P. generously offered his apartment for the remaining months until my big relocation. So, logistically, it was a smart move. One of the things I don't like about it, however, is that I can't avoid him when I'm angry. He doesn't like to leave me alone when I'm mad. He, for some reason, needs to pester me until I'm forced to confront him. This is dangerous. I have a powerful temper. I've been known to break things and put people in the hospital. It's far safer to just let me calm down before I say or do something I can't take back. I recognize it's not an attractive trait, this temper of mine. I'm working on it, but for now my method of keeping things from spinning out of control is to keep quiet and avoid confrontation. This is not something he seems to understand.<br />
<br />
I'm mad right now. Angry, in fact, to the point that it's difficult to concentrate and really even see straight. That's why I'm posting. Maybe if I get my thoughts in order, I'll be able to calm down and get through this. I'll preface the following recap by acknowledging the absurdity of my emotions in this instance. I recognize that my responses are not logical or entirely rational. That does not, however, enable me to stop feeling them. This is part of the reason I don't go to friends with these kinds of things and choose post to a public blog instead. My friends would never understand.<br />
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Three nights ago, as the two of us were settling into bed for the night, S.P. asked if I had class tonight. The question itself is mildly distressing as I'd been obsessing about my final exam on Tuesday and I'll be graduating on Saturday. It should have been blindingly obvious, should he pay even the slightest bit of attention, that NO, there was no class for me tonight. That's the first point.<br />
<br />
He used this question to introduce an announcement that he would be eating dinner with out-of-town coworkers on Wednesday and that there was an office happy hour planned for tonight. His timing was not ideal. Declaring these plans to me as I'm about to doze off, in such an offhand way, is not the best way to send me off to dreamland. I was up most of the night. I went and slept in the living room. Disturbing my sleep is not good and does not help my mood. Several things about this announcement set me off.<br />
<br />
1. Aside from the point made above, this happy hour is "scheduled" to end at 6pm. 6pm is when I get home, even when there is no class. So, whether or not I have class is entirely irrelevant.<br />
<br />
2. Also, I know he won't be home when he says he will. He has no sense of timing. It's like dealing with a stoned person. It takes ages for him to get ready and go anyplace. Case in point - he told me he'd be home last night at 8. He was home at 10. I may not have been so mad if he'd actually stick to his promised timeline. But, I knew all along it would turn out that way. I was just disappointed to have it confirmed.<br />
<br />
3. The next morning, when he kept needling me to ask what was wrong and I finally told him, he asked - sarcastically - if he should ask his boss not to schedule any more happy hours. Naturally, this is not what I would hope for. However, S.P. doesn't have to attend every office function. He's is constantly up his co-workers' asses, as if they were his best friends in all the world. I doubt they share his desperate need to be together every moment of every day. I'm exaggerating, of course, but you understand what I'm trying to get across.<br />
<br />
4. I am sick and tired of his out-of-town visitors. Granted, he came here from another state. Part of the reason he feels so close to his coworkers (I'm assuming), is that the majority of them transferred here at the same time he did. But, in the months I've known him, he has had just as many "friends" come to see him. They are primarily young, skinny, single women. The last time I considered leaving him, it was because of his dinner with one of them.<br />
<br />
That is the initial set of issues I can't seem to see my way past. Now, on to my behavior in response to my (perhaps unreasonable) rage.<br />
<br />
I have already hinted at my initial reactions above. On Tuesday night, after my grueling exam, I came home to no fanfare, no dinner, and cat vomit on the carpet. Thanks, S.P., you're a real peach.<br />
<br />
After scrounging up some dinner, I had a beer and relaxed a little. We started chatting about our day, etc. The topic of his dinner the following night came up and he asked me, "Is that okay?" One might suspect that, having asked this question, he would be interested in my response. Not so. He will do exactly as he likes, regardless of my opinion. To a certain extent, he should. And my reply to this question was, "yes." Of course he should feel free to eat dinner with his coworkers. I understand that there isn't anything wrong with that. When I answered him, I was telling the truth. That doesn't mean it didn't bother me or that I didn't feel threatened by his evening out. But, I have no right to ask (futile as it might be) that he not go to dinner. I intended, at the time, to control my actions the following night so that he would understand that when I say I'm okay with something, I mean it.<br />
<br />
When I got into town from work last night, I went out to dinner alone, took a shower, and watched movies I can't watch when he's around (well, I intended to, but couldn't find anything really gory). But, the later it got and the more excuses he sent me, the more upset I became. I finally decided that I was exhausted and needed to sleep. I did not respond to his continual texts partially because I was becoming increasingly irritated and partially because I wasn't paying much attention to my phone.<br />
<br />
This morning, I made every attempt to avoid him. I was still pissed off and didn't want to go to work angry. No need to start the day with a fight. And while he was walking his dog (who I fed and medicated and walked without appreciation), I wanted to slip away and just leave. But, I had said recently that I wouldn't do that. So, I found him outside and told him I was leaving. He demanded a hug and a kiss. I complied. However, as we parted I said, "See you later. Or maybe not. I have no idea when you'll be home." Granted, it likely wasn't the best choice of words, but it's true. I don't know when he will come home tonight. So, having been hurt by this last comment of mine, he followed me to my car. I asked him, as politely as I could, to leave me alone. I had no wish to argue publicly in the parking lot right before I left for work. His response was to slam my car door, storm off, and send me a long text about how I've been so mean to him.<br />
<br />
And now I arrive at the sentiment that generated the title of this post. I remember it from a movie, but can't remember which one it's from. I have tried very hard to keep from fighting, to keep from name-calling, yelling, breaking things, hurting anyone, or even raising my voice. I've tried, albeit without much success, to make it understood that I believe his interactions outside the relationship are acceptable and healthy. His accusations that I've been mean to him and that I'm treating him as if he's been cheating are simply unfounded. He truly has no idea how cool I'm being. If I had any confirmation that he'd been untrue, the sheer terror of my wrath would make Freddy Krueger cringe. The entire apartment complex would know about it and someone, surely, would end up injured. I often turn my wrath upon myself, so this is not a threat to harm him or anyone he is involved with.<br />
<br />
I remember once, when I was in a relationship with another guy in another city, years ago, I was so upset that I shattered every glass in the apartment on the kitchen floor and then proceeded to stomp, barefoot, on the shards until I was forcefully stopped. Yeah. I know how that sounds. Crazy, right? A little extreme at best. Clearly, that's not how a mature, rational, human being should behave. Guess what though. I'm medicated now. I go to a therapist. I don't break things or cut myself. I grew up. But, you may be able to see how my current behavior in response to being so angry I can't see properly, is quite an improvement.<br />
<br />
So, tonight, S.P. has his happy hour, again with co-workers. I'm planning to go out with a friend, simply because I don't want to go home. How I miss my "space."<br />
<br />
<br />Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-67493410754519389302013-03-21T22:03:00.002-07:002013-03-21T22:03:41.438-07:00A ListNow, I've never been one to believe that a woman's place is to please her mate. I'm a feminist. I think there should be equal sharing in a healthy relationship. You give. You take. Part of the reason that I struggle so much with my new relationship is that I have a lot of issues to conquer. S.P. (that's what I'll call my SO for now) is a very patient and understanding person. That's part of what makes him the right one for me. I am also a very open communicator.<br />
<br />
For example, one thing I've struggled with (for what seems like ages now) is jealousy. I don't know where it came from. I know it's ruined at least one of my relationships. I know it hurts. I know it's not productive and that it does me no good. But, there's a creeping voice in my head that doesn't want to be made a fool of. The Voice likes to invent scenarios. If S.P. sends me a text, telling me he's staying late at the office, The Voice just <i>knows</i> that it means he's seeing a woman after hours. But, he's not. Really, he's not. So, recognizing that I have this problem, I told him about it and I've started seeing a therapist. I don't know, yet, if it's doing me any good, but (even if I stop seeing S.P.) jealously is going to be something I'll struggle with until I can get a handle on it. Why is this a problem?<br />
<br />
One facet (and I expect there are many) of my personality that contributes to this problem is a lack of self-esteem. I don't see why he'd want to be with me, therefore, I don't see why another woman couldn't offer him something I don't. So, as an exercise, I am going to try listing the positive things I bring to this relationship. The idea is that, if I bolster my sense of self-worth, I'll have more confidence. More confidence should lead to a stronger feeling of security. Stronger security should help alleviate the fear that another person (I'm equally as threatened by men) will "steal his affections." (God, the more I write, the more absurd it all seems.) Here goes:<br />
<br />
A List of What I Bring to This Relationship:<br />
<br />
I throw the box like a witch.<br />
I'm very affectionate.<br />
Common interests.<br />
Sense of humor.<br />
Open mind.<br />
Ability to consider things from multiple perspectives.<br />
Willingness to let the little things go (in my stronger moments).<br />
Thoughtfulness and consideration<br />
Crisis skill set<br />
Reminders (did you pay your electric bill?)<br />
Artistic ability<br />
Cleverness<br />
Back scratching<br />
Companionship<br />
Love of animals<br />
Scientific mind (mostly)<br />
Compassion<br />
Good taste<br />
Division of labor<br />
Love of research<br />
I don't always demand to be right<br />
Zombie apocalypse survival skills<br />
Resourcefulness<br />
Willingness to try new things<br />
Financial support<br />
Emotional support<br />
Passion<br />
Dedication to my education<br />
Introduction of new interests<br />
Sewing/knitting/crochet skills<br />
I get along with his family<br />
Brains (in general)<br />
Good conversation<br />
tattoos<br />
Willingness to admit my shortcomings<br />
Desire to work toward solutions<br />
Love<br />
Organization and planning<br />
<br />
That's what I've noticed he appreciates, as well as what I think I bring to the table.<br />
<br />Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-41035409390092578902013-03-19T09:43:00.002-07:002013-03-19T09:43:28.428-07:00I'm not feeling healthy.I recently received notification of a comment left on this blog. It was an advertisement, encouraging me to sign up for a new social networking blog service thingie. I checked it out. I wasn't interested. But, I'd forgotten all about Little Tragedies. It's been three years since I posted anything here. I think it's about time to resurrect it. It's bizarre to me to read these old posts. While I remember the events described quite clearly, I can't relate to the head space so much any more. I'm...well, I'm not in a good head space right now. It's encouraging to see that I once was. I think maybe I can get there again. I think maybe the time is right to start blogging again, if for no other reason than to see what my thoughts look like in writing.<br />
<br />
I'm not feeling healthy.<br />
This is entirely beside the fact that I have a cold right now.<br />
It's my brain that's not healthy. No tumors or cancers or stray fluids are lurking up there (at least, not that I know of). I wasn't hit with a bat. I don't have a concussion. I don't have seizures or blackouts or strokes.<br />
<br />
I have a relationship.<br />
Yep.<br />
<br />
And it's not so much the relationship that's the problem. It's a good relationship - at least, it would be if I let it. It's that this is one of those "serious" relationships and I haven't had one of those since my divorce. I got divorced because my ex was a psychopath who tried to murder me. So, ya know, I've got baggage. Mind you, this is baggage that's eight years old. But, I hadn't realized just how severely damaged I was until all of these new feelings starting re-hydrating my capillaries. Nerve endings have come to life that had been numb for ages. You know that "pins and needles" feeling when circulation returns to your foot after you've sat on it for a while? It's sort of like that, but emotionally.<br />
<br />
So, maybe reviving Little Tragedies will give me a space to sort it all out.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-90210841093470980972010-01-04T07:52:00.002-07:002010-01-04T08:11:54.255-07:00Year of the TigerWell, it seems that a new year is upon us. In reality, nothing has changed but the date on the calendar. It's only the progression from one day to another. But, all over the world people celebrate this day (depending on when their calendar switches over) as if it were a new beginning - as if somehow everything has changed and it's a brand new experience. I think it's healthy to have a sort of cleansing attitude. My yearly tradition is to clean house on new years. It's symbolic of a fresh start as well.<br /><br />I'm proud of how much I accomplished over my four-day weekend. I managed to clear all but one of the boxes out of my hallway, shred three moving boxes full of old documents, rearrange my bedroom, bake muffins and move my long awaited couch into the apartment. Whew! About five years ago, a co-worker who was moving out of state told me that she had some furniture to get rid of. I didn't have an apartment at the time (living with Dad), but I told her that I couldn't turn down free furniture. I even rented a storage space just to hold it. I have a red suede couch, loveseat and matching ottoman. However, up until yesterday, I'd never seen that couch in use. I've been sitting on the loveseat, which I had in my last apartment, staring at an empty space in the living room for two and half months, just dying to have that damn couch finally in my home. So, I went a rented a truck, called in a favor from a friend, and moved the effing thing! Yay! I was practically leaping for joy.<br /><br />The furniture, as we've established, is red. My floors are wood. So, the entire theme of the space in the living room is turning out to be red and brown. I'm going to make it into a fancy-pants study with animal heads on the walls and pipe smoking and the whole nine. Of course, the space is tiny, so it's going to be kind of silly, but it will amuse me. Maybe I'll post some pics.<br /><br />Sigh. It's time to start the work week....Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-91980687960355066482009-12-29T07:46:00.003-07:002009-12-29T08:02:57.631-07:00The OneI was thinking this morning, for some reason, about all of the references to "The One" - i.e. the chosen one - in film. Either the topic is a popular one in cinema, or the theme just so happens to pop up in what I'm watching. (Am I subconsciously drawn to it?) Off the top of my head, we've got The Highlander, The Matrix, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, and of course The One. Does "the one" symbolize Jesus Christ? Is that what it all boils down to? The Matrix certainly has the whole biblical parallel thing going on. Or maybe that's just where the concept originated. In Highlander and in The One, the star individual gains power by eliminating others of his kind. Surely that's not a very Christlike concept.<br /><br />Here's another question. Why is it that "the one" is always male? That would seem to support my Christian theory. Are there any films where the lead female character is referred to in this manner? There is no shortage of female action heroes. Does this singular dominator only appear in American movies? <br /><br />So many questions...my mind is always swirling after my morning cup of joe. I guess it takes some time to settle down after my bizarre dream activity. Some of the strangest things come to mind while I'm asleep. If there was only a way to record these nocturnal specters, I'd be rolling in cash money!<br /><br />Can you think of any more movies with "The One" mention?Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-33834665821608868512009-12-28T07:48:00.002-07:002009-12-28T08:24:23.546-07:00Slow GoingMonday morning after a long holiday is always hard to come back to. Of course, if I was self-employed I wouldn't have this problem. I probably wouldn't have to scrape ice off of the damned windshield either. Hopefully, in 2010, my Etsy store will take off and I'll be on my way to self-employment in no time. (power of positive thinking)<br /><br />How was your holiday? Mine turned out to be much better than expected. I spent the night at Mom's house on Christmas Eve and we watched <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087056/">A Christmas Carol with George C. Scott</a>. That's the best one, in my opinion. I couldn't watch it without comparing it to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXhWXiQXAXY">the Muppets version</a> though. We managed not to get into a fight, mainly because I was able to hold my tongue. I didn't have to deal with her "other family" either. <br /><br />After Mom's house, I went to visit Dad. I was sure that, by two in the afternoon, he'd be completely sloshed. I was dreading it all the way there. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was more sober than I'd seen him in a long time. Granted, he was still downing whiskey like water, but I guess he started later than usual. We ate lunch/dinner and opened packages from the rest of my family. I felt a little bad for not giving my dad more presents. But, I'm broke and men are hard to buy for.<br /><br />I've got to endure only three days this week, and then I'm off for another four!Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-41588060225384738782009-11-19T10:09:00.002-07:002009-11-19T10:19:30.981-07:00WorkshopWork has been crazy this week. We're participating in the state's annual conference today, tomorrow, and over the weekend. So, naturally, everyone has to freak the fuck out for no good reason. Honestly? It's not as if I work in an industry where lives are at stake. If there's a teeny smudge on our display, it's not the end of the world.<br /><br />Since I have the reputation for being the "creative one" in the office, I got stuck with the job of designing and assembling the 5 foot by 10 foot display space. For some reason, I thought it was only a two day job. Ha ha. Not even close. We can't set up anything in our designated area until after 5 today. Two days ago, the bitch I work with (and hate, can you tell?), was giving me her famous attitude about not having things done. I gave her attitude right back and told her that unless she had the tools I needed on hand, the job was going to wait. I wanted to tell her to pull a rubber mallet and a hammer out of her fucking ass. After that, I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and strangle her superiority complex to death.<br /><br />Ah, but I stopped at being snarky lest I lose the job I enjoy.<br /><br />In about 15 minutes, I'm leaving the office to drive across town to the conference itself and help out (for another cunt I don't like) with a workshop. All I really have to do is check people in and clean up after. But, in between those two tasks is three hours of boooorrrrriiiiiinnnggg. Maybe I'll work on that novel I'm supposed to almost be done with. Or, maybe I'll crochet a throw for my loveseat in the living room. I need to devise a plan to get the matching couch into my new apartment by the time I have my party....ugh...too much to do.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-4762240663867628342009-11-18T16:25:00.003-07:002009-11-18T16:38:33.811-07:00Ugh. Christmas is Lame. And So Are Guys.Yes, I hate Christmas. Big surprise, right?<br /><br />This year, I'm totally broke (and that's different <span style="font-style:italic;">how</span>?). Since I'm inclined toward the DIY thing anyway, I'm trying to find make-at-home stuff that won't cost me a ton in supplies or time. The problem is, guys have a tendency not to appreciate the homemade angle on gift giving much. So, I was just surfing around online to see what I could find in the way of manly crafts. What did I find? Nothing but crap. Sure, if I was dating some adorable, hipster type fella, he'd probably appreciate something I made. (and the guy I <i>was</i> dating dumped me for another chick last night.) But the men in my family? Hard to please. For starters, the only thing ever on their Christmas lists is socks. Socks? Well, I sure as hell don't have enough time or patience to try knitting up socks for the uncles and fathers and cousins I have. I've got to finish up things pretty quickly, since everyone except my parents lives out of state. Factoring time for shipping...forget about it!<br /><br />Oh, and also factor in that I'm trying to do the whole <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org">NaNoWriMo</a> thing. I'm so stressed out this week with work and relationships and money that I feel like I'm going to vomit. Maybe I'll lose some weight this way. I dunno.<br /><br />Maybe I can go the give-everyone-the-same-thing route and just make popcorn balls or something equally as ghastly. Anyone have a suggestion? Must be cheap but not look cheap. Martha Stewart couldn't save me this time. Felt slippers? Nobody's going to wear that.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-62720927998386729942009-11-17T10:01:00.002-07:002009-11-17T10:18:06.043-07:00TransportationI've moved three times this year. On New Year's, I had a fight with my dad over him being an alcoholic. I moved out, into my mom's house. My mom is nice for the most part, but she's a bit emotionally unbalanced. So, three months later, I moved in with a roommate I found on Craigslist. Six months after that, the management at that place raised the rent and I moved into my own place a month ago. So, here I am, broke, but finally alone. <br /><br />Anyway, since moving into the new place, I've noticed that the bus downtown stops right on my block. To save money and the hassle of parking, I decided to hop the bus to and from the office. After all, money for a bus pass has been coming out of my paycheck for years. <br /><br />While waiting for the bus this morning, I marveled at how strange the whole bus situation is. I don't mean the inconsistent schedules or the riff raff on board, I mean the concept of a bus itself. You go outside and stand by a sign. Then, a very large box on wheels stops, you get inside, and the box moves around. For some reason, it made me think of the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBvEHJOUbjk">cat bus</a> in Tonari No Totoro (a.k.a. My Neighbor Totoro). I wish I could ride that to work instead.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-29013089033001735772009-11-16T15:51:00.002-07:002009-11-16T16:01:49.008-07:00Honestly?So Neko, you think you can come back here, after all this time, and grovel; beg your reader(s) for forgiveness? Do you actually expect anyone to be left here, waiting for a new post? Do you seriously imagine that anyone, anywhere, could be interested enough in your epic blog fail to hang around since May? Pah!!<br /><br />But...but...<sniffle>...I was going to post. <span style="font-style:italic;">Really</span>, I was! It's just...there's this evil thing out there...it's called <hushed tone, shifty eyes> facebook...it sucked out my brain! I was gonna post lots a times, honest!<br /><br />I'm sure you were, Neko. I'm sure that every day, on the way to work, a million little post topics swirled around in your head. But they didn't make it onto Little Tragedies, did they? Where did they go, Neko? Into what vortex were they sucked? Did the homework doggie eat them? Face it, you owe the blog-o-verse big time. No more excuses. No weaseling your way out of this one! <br /><br />But...there's this game....and it has chickens..cute, little, small, little, virtual birdies...they're so CUUUUUUTEE!<br /><br />Silence! You must now post for at least 15 minutes a day. Or be eliminated entirely from the web!! Bwahahahahaha!Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-71333280773296370282009-05-18T14:47:00.006-07:002009-05-18T15:07:26.656-07:00Make Your Own Mondays or When Lettuce Goes to Hell vol. 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PrM-srGDe4tHxgGNlI4JwQTdgdWwcI4aTP0PyUczYp3N7hYvunKaAYJwwPfXVFSPIZAl9LJQkVIWa9fdZqM2STIQURgMpzXn4y3KF8NAgUuZpeJ95U13SowccRcYTFxihYYHoA/s1600-h/salad518.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PrM-srGDe4tHxgGNlI4JwQTdgdWwcI4aTP0PyUczYp3N7hYvunKaAYJwwPfXVFSPIZAl9LJQkVIWa9fdZqM2STIQURgMpzXn4y3KF8NAgUuZpeJ95U13SowccRcYTFxihYYHoA/s320/salad518.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337284614327672194" /></a><br /><br />I probably shouldn't have bought myself lunch today, considering that I'm in a bad financial place right now, but Neko's gotta eat! Today's creation was inspired by Mother Italy - spinach, cannelloni beans, fresh tomatoes, kalamata olives and fresh Parmesan cheese with a light splash of port vinaigrette dressing to tie everything together. The beans and cheese provide the protein, the tomatoes and spinach provide the iron, vitamins and calcium, and the olives provide the zing! Damn, do I love olives! The combination of the extra salty olives and the unexpectedly salty Parm were only mildly offset by the delicately sweet dressing. I found the fresh tomatoes refreshing though. I don't normally have them.<br /><br />I posted my very first items on <a href="http://www.etsy.com">Etsy</a> today! I've had an account for a while now, but just finally got around to making things to sell. If only I could take better pictures, my items would look a bit more professional.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgizqiVnVb_1VWf6ifu0HBzwh3JqxC4expyh4QajHLGXmtLemOORpTaAOy8hNv0iQO7kI7SoB-u2fCSef4x2XMZwtqn1oyESZxHVCBP0vjPHdM_D4PQ_FL8eg9Jr34Zy5mzSmk1Q/s1600-h/Kitchen+Kits+thumb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgizqiVnVb_1VWf6ifu0HBzwh3JqxC4expyh4QajHLGXmtLemOORpTaAOy8hNv0iQO7kI7SoB-u2fCSef4x2XMZwtqn1oyESZxHVCBP0vjPHdM_D4PQ_FL8eg9Jr34Zy5mzSmk1Q/s320/Kitchen+Kits+thumb.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337286765727216530" /></a><br /><br />These are dish-washing travel kits. They only take me about a day traveling to and fro on the bus to finish! Keep your fingers crossed for me that they sell! I totally need the money for my trip this weekend!! My poor, broke ass!! I will have nothing to spend and my friends will think I'm a stupid loser who isn't any fun to hang out with. :(<br /><br />I took a nice walk in the cemetery near my new apartment. It's really beautiful there! I love all the old statues and gigantic trees. During the summer, I think I'll try to walk there every night after dinner.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfsNeRMc0xu_5JeGJ_hCYlQ2e-kP9as9KQ0_sZ-Qv8xSECkSqBg7bTKJEbXHTxoNnwNhWsSE1lm75eQHU83p-FH9iYbHvn5usFNEuPqaySbvoayyN4lZ0hpb1ZxYRLPLmBpjAdg/s1600-h/statueheadstone.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfsNeRMc0xu_5JeGJ_hCYlQ2e-kP9as9KQ0_sZ-Qv8xSECkSqBg7bTKJEbXHTxoNnwNhWsSE1lm75eQHU83p-FH9iYbHvn5usFNEuPqaySbvoayyN4lZ0hpb1ZxYRLPLmBpjAdg/s320/statueheadstone.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337287990497493346" /></a><br /><br />I had a frustrating weekend, but a productive one. Just thinking about it right now is giving me a headache though, so maybe I'll save the story for another time. Bleh.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-35057335522837330812009-05-11T11:35:00.005-07:002009-05-18T15:07:05.441-07:00Make Your Own Mondays or When Lettuce Goes to Hell<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVvl3NL2WDLT4u8YqhoDZx35NSyDvRwjNu_pNDTvkbGDmXEWVMqp37EeQX3a0cKu04jtJkiantY5Ar985vT6KY7zS0sy5od17lNHqj1gfgXKHhY0TIBXfz87L6KFgVGqUjk1ijA/s1600-h/salad511.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVvl3NL2WDLT4u8YqhoDZx35NSyDvRwjNu_pNDTvkbGDmXEWVMqp37EeQX3a0cKu04jtJkiantY5Ar985vT6KY7zS0sy5od17lNHqj1gfgXKHhY0TIBXfz87L6KFgVGqUjk1ijA/s320/salad511.jpg" border="0" alt="Ugh. I need a rebase, badly!" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334647311292685746" /></a><br /><br />I've decided that Mondays should be "Make Your Own" salad day for lunch. I usually go to my mailbox on Monday and there's one of those salad bar places nearby. I like to try a custom salad each time, instead of going with one of their predetermined combinations. Naturally, there are very few of them that don't include meat of some kind. The meat-free options are terribly uninspired, considering how many ingredients they have on hand. Today's salad is spinach with jack cheese, roasted corn, avocado and black beans with a roasted red pepper dressing. There were <span style="font-style:italic;">supposed</span> to be pumpkin seeds too, but the salad guy gave me sunflower seeds by mistake. As usual, the whole thing is smothered with dressing - not my preference at all. I mean, there's like a quarter inch of dressing pooling at the bottom of this dish! Next time, I'll have to remember to tell them not to be so heavy with the sauce. To wash the whole mess down with I've selected one of my favorite beverages - a <a href="http://www.izze.com/#products">sparkling grapefruit Izze</a>. <br /><br />Perhaps my decision to pamper myself with this lunch creation was brought about by the date today. Today is the anniversary of my brother's death (his death-day?) and I'm going to visit his grave after work. I'm dealing with it just fine, but taking it easy on myself anyway. After all, I will have to deal with my father later on. Last week, I started the first of many sessions with my new tattoo artist. I'm getting half sleeves in honor of my little bro. Wednesday, we did the outline and some shading on my left arm. It took three hours. I have three more hours under the needle before it will be finished. Then, we will move on to my right arm. They're going to look badass!! I've wanted sleeves for<span style="font-style:italic;">ever</span>!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9PMG-OvFwIopLUIsY17Vd4zqFCm50TEuXjreniNj0K8EFoNFD3bHfDEpLugDYSGCPmcRyMaEf8z7-tZQb9Ob0Ko8DK3DF9GFGr5N0vNOfTExXxJYrlwbD1TmdXbCjHS8HOrOpw/s1600-h/crowtatedit.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 170px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9PMG-OvFwIopLUIsY17Vd4zqFCm50TEuXjreniNj0K8EFoNFD3bHfDEpLugDYSGCPmcRyMaEf8z7-tZQb9Ob0Ko8DK3DF9GFGr5N0vNOfTExXxJYrlwbD1TmdXbCjHS8HOrOpw/s320/crowtatedit.jpg" border="0" alt="Caw! Caw!" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334646146337585090" /></a>Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-52348260301278111582009-04-15T06:56:00.006-07:002009-04-15T07:42:50.263-07:00Hell and Tacos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirN0m39pkervAG_uj1NRZoMR-7vEuXn_PMtVf2GTzo0-oM2EBZT7-vg1rFmnwm53VyQCKz1cvKaMMwAkjAVAwumCCgqvLU_ZqKvr8wWA0_shcZ-CLWbmknfth2hHvqaGhz1nUaTA/s1600-h/beer+bingo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirN0m39pkervAG_uj1NRZoMR-7vEuXn_PMtVf2GTzo0-oM2EBZT7-vg1rFmnwm53VyQCKz1cvKaMMwAkjAVAwumCCgqvLU_ZqKvr8wWA0_shcZ-CLWbmknfth2hHvqaGhz1nUaTA/s320/beer+bingo.jpg" border="0" alt="beer bingo" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324918487740404018" /></a><br /><br />Tuesday nights mean beer bingo and dollar tacos at my new apartment's clubhouse. There's a bar there, which is pretty rockin' since I can get nice and sloshed and wander home on foot instead of worrying about getting a cab. My friend was going to come, but she slipped and hurt her knee, so she had to bail out on me. My roommate complained of not having enough "expendable income", so she didn't make it either. If I let lack of companionship stop me from doing anything, I'd never leave the house. Plus, this gives me the chance to try on different outfits and gauge their effectiveness on an audience (or at least that's what I tell myself).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvkjHUUjYiM4A902j5Je3NDyX4b3arkS7snCvIpR7qckPwyVQvy3QxOz-eQU-xnYPj46E9mFRrzi8wLzsZlNqNgew58ZIhQ7uLgOKgLwCMNxwaKb9qtYUSdFvKTDXwM6LTyloPrw/s1600-h/dollar+taco.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvkjHUUjYiM4A902j5Je3NDyX4b3arkS7snCvIpR7qckPwyVQvy3QxOz-eQU-xnYPj46E9mFRrzi8wLzsZlNqNgew58ZIhQ7uLgOKgLwCMNxwaKb9qtYUSdFvKTDXwM6LTyloPrw/s320/dollar+taco.jpg" border="0" alt="dollar taco" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324920963654855378" /></a><br /><br />Mmmmm...dollar taco...they make special bean tacos for me, since I'm a veggie. They're yummy! Of course, I could make better at home, but they're still tasty. I think I ate four of them last night. The first time I went to this thing, I swear that I ate three tacos and drank four beers and only payed about fifteen bucks. Not the case this time! I ate some tacos...drank some beer...did a couple of shots...maybe that's why I spent twice as much this time. It must have been the shots. And wouldn't you know it, since I didn't have any friends there to cheer for me, NOW is when I win at Bingo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZSh7l2fy0a5CVrd4aTOEGYhoNjp9dF9A6a6rKQhWEWYnFx2mEipI2E4-h83b7OAENk7aUtrVq6kHU6d0nWpWC7BGx6FuscOnbLJEMjSoVDhMVPTbfgn-KddbDtGUMkMpCIhbxw/s1600-h/x+rated+bingo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZSh7l2fy0a5CVrd4aTOEGYhoNjp9dF9A6a6rKQhWEWYnFx2mEipI2E4-h83b7OAENk7aUtrVq6kHU6d0nWpWC7BGx6FuscOnbLJEMjSoVDhMVPTbfgn-KddbDtGUMkMpCIhbxw/s320/x+rated+bingo.jpg" border="0" alt="X rated bingo"id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324923866119283474" /></a><br /><br />See! I've got all the numbers in an "X" formation! I won a bar shirt! Well...it's kind of a skanky, powder blue muscle shirt, but I won it. It's still a prize!! Of course, I would have preferred something a little more liquid - this is <span style="font-style:italic;">beer</span> bingo after all. So, just when my luck was running high (and it nearly <span style="font-weight:bold;">never</span> is), I won again!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0kdWqB_E6mIemYBn6CTezr0SH4Y72iCGdhskr_v6H6jurwWnlhtI01L4PoQRpvRJtDbGXbY8y6jFZXpi20J7fSrc1PiniYofbEgo0BRQ3c9SZ3qF2Ix9XIm1ISqpbwXZxaCJBg/s1600-h/blackout+bingo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0kdWqB_E6mIemYBn6CTezr0SH4Y72iCGdhskr_v6H6jurwWnlhtI01L4PoQRpvRJtDbGXbY8y6jFZXpi20J7fSrc1PiniYofbEgo0BRQ3c9SZ3qF2Ix9XIm1ISqpbwXZxaCJBg/s320/blackout+bingo.jpg" border="0" alt="blackout bingo"id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324925454191536610" /></a><br /><br />BINGO!! See how all of the spots are blacked out on the lower card? Well, take a look at the other one - I was only one away from winning that one too! The prize this time was a cash prize, which would have been great had there not also been two winners besides myself. So, split three ways, I ended up with $8.50. Considering what I spent on the bill and what I kicked in to the ante for the money rounds, this obviously wasn't a money making deal on my part. Sigh. It felt good to win though.<br /><br />So, I stumbled home and showered and went to bed. At about three in the morning, my phone rang. I think I must have heard it in my sleep because I remember it, but I also remember not being quite awake. Then, it rang again. Awake this time, and annoyed, I picked it up to see who was calling. Well, lo and behold, it was this guy I hooked up with right before I moved. And if he wasn't who he was, I would have turned off my phone and gone back to sleep. As it just so happens, he's very difficult to get ahold of and, as it also just so happens, he was probably the best sex I've ever had (which is really saying something, because I've been around the block a few times). Basically, this guy has me on a string, but I don't want him to know that. Well, he wanted me to drive to another town at three frickin' AM, just to sleep with him and drive back in time for work this morning. I told him that I like sleeping better and hung up.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />(but only because he promised to see me tonight. I'm so weak.)Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-18937206383709511032009-04-08T13:30:00.003-07:002009-04-08T13:38:37.565-07:00This Sock's Been Through Hell<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie1CUF0DX2R7ETK5-jMuMHVwXC11tDwdCDA7RnX-T_SUYRYV_cgjm2TNKNVZjyeGiGqudY6H8OJaiqRq-uASnzZjDgTmWSHHnCh0FipQ7BOK_K7fDBPzvrurN7r2xHXhMhS53I3g/s1600-h/sock+holes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie1CUF0DX2R7ETK5-jMuMHVwXC11tDwdCDA7RnX-T_SUYRYV_cgjm2TNKNVZjyeGiGqudY6H8OJaiqRq-uASnzZjDgTmWSHHnCh0FipQ7BOK_K7fDBPzvrurN7r2xHXhMhS53I3g/s320/sock+holes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322420815604682050" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Yes</span>, all of my posts from now on are going to be about my socks (sarcasm). Today's been craptastic. I rolled out of bed with a shitty hangover - last night was beer bingo and dollar tacos. I don't know where most of my clothes are, so I tried to put on just whatever. The lacy camisole I tried to wear under my a-little-too-sheer-for-work shirt was waaaaay to small (did I mention I got fat?) and then I put on my white bra instead and threw a sweater over the whole affair. Well, once I got to work, I noticed that:<br /><br />a.) the bra straps are glaringly apparent<br />b.) the bright pink Sharpy shows through where Sean of Tickle Me Pink signed my bra<br />c.) there was a hole in my right sock<br /><br />and instead of having a versatile ensemble that I could change with the absurd climate, I have an ugly, uncomfortable getup that I'm trapped in because I can't take off the sweater for fear of showing the terribly inappropriate disaster underneath.<br /><br />Plus, my pen ran out of ink, I have killer heartburn, my head STILL hurts, the damn register at the corner shop wouldn't accept my credit card and the checker was a dick about it. I wanna go home!!!Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-15038925179558119012009-04-07T12:11:00.002-07:002009-04-07T12:12:28.803-07:00A Little Motorized Hellion For YaSo, if you're bored with checking out my hot socks, check this adorable shit out:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vf7AIBxWZRc&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vf7AIBxWZRc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />It's going on my wish list.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-90882775199596988522009-04-07T07:49:00.005-07:002009-04-08T13:39:17.947-07:00Hellsox<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkiikUqxBSa8f337R-63ri7nIOi59PuNexCFUHGBMe_3cSSVqCGNRmpjO1nnPmKvQX_mZMBPMFFgjChf2fQCc8pnTBwmfbaVjy7e3X2W8yuiU0mfoMnMZ6jKCa8lu59e7jBDRbQ/s1600-h/argyle.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkiikUqxBSa8f337R-63ri7nIOi59PuNexCFUHGBMe_3cSSVqCGNRmpjO1nnPmKvQX_mZMBPMFFgjChf2fQCc8pnTBwmfbaVjy7e3X2W8yuiU0mfoMnMZ6jKCa8lu59e7jBDRbQ/s320/argyle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321961890001874994" /></a><br /><br />These are my socks today. Why? Because I fucking [heart] Argyle. With those and my little knit skirt there, I should stay nice and warm. Why? Because it's still fucking freezing here. Well, it was this morning anyway and it's supposed to be 68 later on. Crazy-assed weather.<br /><br />I've only been awake a handful of hours today and already I'm so annoyed I could puke. If you see me walking around with an, "I'm so annoyed I could puke" look on my face, you'll know why. You know, that expression that looks like I was rolling my eyes and they got stuck in the "up" position. This morning, it was finally cozy in my new bed/new apartment situation and of course I had to get up and come to work. Then, I get on the train and the only two people talking had to be talking really loud and just had to be having the most inane conversation ever. The college-aged guy with the spiky hair, the geek glasses and the obnoxious instrument case, but who is terribly uncute despite those three features, was talking about how he went to see Gwar and the lead singer cut off the head of a T-Rex. Then, he went on to talk about how when you're in a Greek place, you order lamb or some such boring, stupid dribble. The girl that was talking to him had one of those quite obviously fake laughs. One of those laughs that screams, "I am pretending that you're funny so I can get laid." And it went on like that for 30 minutes. THIRTY FUCKING MINUTES!!!!1!!!!<br /><br />I wanted to grab them each by the back of the head and smash their faces together until they suffocate from trying to breathe through the bloody pulp that was once their mouth and nose. I wanted to scream at them to shut the fuck up. I wanted to tell them to just get a room and get it over with. Stupid damn kids.<br /><br />After I exited the train, I was heading for the drug store and caught an exchange of words behind me. One lady seemed to think that the person on the other end of her cell phone was completely deaf. A lady near her said, "Just shout it out to the world, why don't you?" Cell phone lady had some kind of retort and the response was, "shut up". Naturally, I was all for the "shut up" woman. I wish people would open their mouths against rudeness more. I wish I'd actually said something to the irritating fuck-tards on the train. So many people get away with being discourteous and rude just because the rest of us don't pipe up about it. But, confrontation makes me nervous. Even hearing that brief snippet made me kinda jumpy, which totally contradicts the rage I feel inside on a daily basis. <br /><br />Maybe I need to take a martial arts class or something; learn how to deal with confrontation. Oi. Maybe after I unpack my things and settle in.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-87230348653717847842009-03-30T14:59:00.002-07:002009-03-30T15:14:52.363-07:00Perpetual HellI am miserable. I know I'm always going on about how terrible life is, blah blah blah. In truth, things are going much better than they were a few years ago and a few years before that were even worse. Sometimes it's hard to see how miserable you are until you're out of a situation. I once dated a guy who liked throw me around the apartment. I thought I'd die without him. Well, I tried to commit suicide, the hospital made me take some pills, and I finally gained some perspective and cut the asshole loose. "Damn," I thought, "How could I have lived like that?" Well, I eventually met another, even worse asshole, but that's another story.<br /><br />The story now is that I'm dissatisfied with life, or more what I'm doing with my own life. Some things are going to change soon, which may make existence more bearable. I'm moving in a few days - into an apartment with another girl. The whole change of surroundings and the effort it will take to move all of my crap and settle in will distract me for a bit. I'll be excited to have new things to explore and new people to hang out with. But, I know the novelty will wear off and I'll be back to where I am now.<br /><br />You see, I've always had a problem with staying in one place for very long. Wanderlust - I has it. I've been working in the same neighborhood for the past 3 years. I've eaten at every restaurant and shopped in every shop within walking distance. I'm so incredibly sick of seeing the same damned things every damned day! I also never wanted to come back to this effing state. I was born here and moved away as fast as I possibly could. But, heinous circumstances sucked me back to this place. It's not the worst place to live in the world, but I still loathe it. <br /><br />Next month, my mother is going on a trip to Greece with her friend. Fucking bitch. I've had a tour book for Greece, that I've gazed at fondly for years. My ancestry is actually Greek, hers is not. Now that I'm so down and out that I can barely move out of my parents' house, she decides it's a good time to jet off. Couldn't she have picked Siberia? Bitch. I'm so jealous, I almost wish they have a horrible time. Last night, I watched Y Tu Mama Tambien. It was all about taking off down the road in Mexico and going beach hopping (well, that's not what the point of the movie was, but...). I want a job where I can travel! I feel so trapped sometimes that I can't breathe! Seriously. I have panic attacks when I think about it too much. I feel trapped and running out of time.<br /><br />So, how can I fix this?Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-64121686974630220412009-02-25T11:17:00.001-07:002009-02-25T11:19:27.966-07:00Hell of a Good IntroI know, I know. You haven't heard from me in nearly a month and when I do post? I post this:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rAmGsM4Dids&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rAmGsM4Dids&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />But it kicks serious ass. I remember watching this show with my mom as a kid. See, I was morbid even at that age! <grin>Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-90677786573347177372009-02-09T10:05:00.002-07:002009-02-09T10:16:53.621-07:00To Hell With Birthdays AnywayTomorrow is my birthday. Nobody seems to care. I don't even know if <span style="font-style:italic;">I</span> care that much. It's kind of scary really - when I was a kid, I used to be convinced that I would die at the age of 32. For years, I knew it was the doomed age for me. So, tomorrow, I will be 32 and next year, my ex-husband (the one who tried to kill me) will be up for parole. Coincidence? A bit to close for comfort if you ask me. Maybe I should do my tarot reading. Not that I ever put much stock in the cards...but, I accurately predicted my little brother's death when I read his. <br /><br />I have a tradition. Every year, on my birthday, I try to do something I've never done before. Last year it was snowboarding. After asking and asking everyone I know, I finally got some good suggestions for this year. Originally, I wanted to bungee jump off of the Royal Gorge Bridge. But, it seems they only offer that in summer. I'd go skydiving in a second, but I think it's too cold for that. Several people suggested this place in town that lets you "skydive" into a wind tunnel. In my opinion, that's what I'd call skydiving for pussies. It's like a temporary tattoo. Just balls-up and jump out of a real plane ya bunch of ninnies!! <br /><br />Some great ideas this time were: pet a mountain lion, fly a helicopter and....another one I can't remember. I think I was just too excited by the other two. So, I hear flying a helicopter is outrageously expensive due to fuel costs lately. I've also been trying to track down a rescue group in the area that allow you to visit their feline "ambassadors". No dice yet. A <span style="font-style:italic;">wolf</span>, I can find. No big kitties. <br /><br />I guess I'm left without any ideas this year. I'm also left without any enthusiasm. Birthdays are seriously depressing. >sigh<Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-43619628361365771072009-02-04T16:41:00.002-07:002009-02-04T16:45:31.139-07:00Neko's Budget Tips or Time to Get the Hell out of Brokesville, USATip #1:<br /><br />Don't buy water at the gym. The gym charges, like, 200% of what the grocery store does. In fact, don't <span style="font-style:italic;">buy</span> water at all. Take that last soda bottle, or Gatordrink bottle, or spring water bottle and wash it out. Fill that baby up in the locker room. Granted, the water at the gym doesn't taste all that great, but after you've run for 10 minutes on the treadmill, it tastes good enough. <br /><br />There. Neko just saved you, like, $2.50 a day mofo.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-21976085397792541462009-01-15T09:59:00.002-07:002009-01-15T10:09:21.143-07:00Irrseponsible In HellExcess. That's the problem with our society. Excess of <span style="font-style:italic;">stupidity</span>. "Electronic Label Peeler"? Gas-powered <span style="font-style:italic;">leaf blowers</span>?! Robot vacuum??? These are all examples of inventions that were built in the name of time and efficiency, but really only make money for gluttons from the pockets of lazy gluttons. How much time does it really take to peel a darned label? Does this invention truly save corporations time and manpower? I don't think so. Instead, it squanders money and resources and creates waste products. Should be spending money and time elsewhere. But instead, we're all wandering around with our collective head up our collective ass. Greed for power and lust for money will drive us into the ground soon enough. <br /><br />What does this country spend all of its money on? War.<br />Who loses money? Education.<br />And thus, we end up with a bunch of idiots who only create more war. And so on, and so on.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-23876961709584763222009-01-13T12:56:00.002-07:002009-01-13T13:05:48.818-07:00Little Bits of HellGeez. I wish someone would give <span style="font-style:italic;">me</span> some <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Stephens-Gourmet-Candycane-1-4-Ounce-Packets/dp/B000KFZ3LQ">Candy Cane Cocoa</a>. It seems to only be given to people who don't appreciate it. A few years ago, I gave my mother a whole tin of it. I saw it in her cabinet the other day. I wonder if she even tried it. My co-worker and new friend brought in some packets of it for the community give-away table yesterday morning. C'mon people! Who wouldn't adore a steamy cup of hot chocolate with little bits of real candy cane mixed in? Crazy (shaking head)...just plain crazy.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586219.post-35530351072872560392009-01-09T08:18:00.004-07:002009-01-09T08:28:08.803-07:00Things Can Grow In Hell<a href="http://s215.photobucket.com/albums/cc298/chibirisu/nature/?action=view¤t=photo-5.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i215.photobucket.com/albums/cc298/chibirisu/nature/photo-5.jpg" border="0" alt="Amy 3" width="200" height="270"></a><br /><br />This is what my Amaryllis looked like when I came back from the long New Years' weekend. I was agog at how much it grew!! Of course, I had to edit the picture a bit to block out certain office info, and I did a sloppy job of it, but it's early and I haven't had coffee yet.<br /><br />In other news, I had another enormous fight with my alcoholic father last week. In all my 32 miserable years of living, he has never used the tone of voice that he used with me that night. It scared me. I actually felt threatened - and I've never been scared of Dad. So, I left his house in tears and this most recent past Wednesday, I moved all of my things out. Effectively, I'm homeless for the time being. Life, as usual, sucks. And I haven't even mentioned the fiasco with my cousin yet. Fuck.Neko Noirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11483352911165771342noreply@blogger.com2