no beta… we die like men


May 30, 2021 :: 9:48 PM

I’ll take “Things Missing from UCMB Road Trips”, Alex…

*snicker*

Somehow, I knew that damn hashtag would come back to haunt me.

After winning NaNoWriMo a few years ago, I decided to try Scrivener. Hey, anything recommended by John Finnemore has to be worth checking out. (Speaking of checking out, “Cabin Pressure” by John Finnemore is a BBC radio programme he wrote that features Babblingbrook Crazyhorse, Roger Allam, and Anthony Head. It is HYSTERICAL. There are 26 episodes but the best one is Qikiqtarjuaq.)

Shit. Sorry. I squirrelled.

But. OMG! I miss Cabin Pressure SO FUCKING MUCH.

Anywhooooo…

I’d been using Storyist and while I liked it, I wasn’t in love with it. I had to use a third party app if I wanted to write on my iPhone. It was a mess. A huge mess.

I tried Scrivener and DAMN!. It was love at first sight.

So. Much. Love.

I use it on my iPhone. I use it on my MacBook. I use(d) it on my iMac.

It was mobile. It was quick. It was perfect.

And then I bought that damn PC laptop for work.

I decided to check out Scriv 3 for Windows. (Rumor had it I might be sent to our Panhandle location from time to time so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.)

And - as I’ve become fond of saying lately - shit went sideways.

I couldn’t back up.

I couldn’t sync.

Fuck. I couldn’t even save.

Uninstall. Reinstall. Slaughter a chicken. Dance in a graveyard. Uninstall. Reinstall.

I could save.

I could backup.

I still couldn’t sync.

Isolate issue to Dropbov.

Uninstall. Reinstall. Insult the computer’s mother. Uninstall. Reinstall.

I could save.

I could back up.

I could sync.

And then…

Then the screen layout opened UPSIDE DOWN.

I swear to fuck, I cannot win.

But! I got it to sync and the Windows Scriv support team now has a new issue that should have popped up in Beta testing.

I’m going to stick to my Apple apps, though.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

About a year ago, I went to the eye doctor and got fitted for bifocals - glasses and contacts.

And so began the worst year of my life. Vision-wise.

I struggled to see far.

I struggled to see near.

I couldn’t cross stitch.

I couldn’t knit.

I couldn’t fucking read.

And so began this weird year of not wearing glasses / contacts or wearing contacts and cheaters or wearing glasses and holding the frames so that the lenses matched up to where my eyes were focused. (Does that make sense? It Englishes, right?)

I finally gave up and saw a different doctor this year.

The test pair of contacts? HOLY FUCK.

I am so excited to be able to see again.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

Stupidly enough, I’m so excited that I have to burn a day off to wait for the city permit guy to come to the house.

Oh, Wait… you don’t know the entire saga.

In December, we headed to Lowes to price out a new front door. We had everything we needed and got it to the HOA in time for the December Architectural Committee meeting.

In January, we were at Universal when I got the call that they needed six more pieces of information before they could discuss it in THAT NIGHT’S MEETING.

THEY. HAD. A. FUCKING MONTH.

(And I didn’t even get the door I wanted. I got the same ugly ass door that everyone has, so this shouldn’t have been an issue.)

In February, we finally get clearance from those fuckers that we could install the door.

Well, you can’t order the door without the HOA letter of approval - at least from Lowe’s - so that was a whole new time suck.

In March, we finally ordered the door.

In April, we applied for the permit. Because you can’t even fart in your house without a permit in DFB.

In May, the door was FINALLY installed.

It will be mid-June before we can fix up the paint around the door… because DFB has to come out and inspect it before we can do anything else. (Like we have to keep the stickers on the door! Why?????)

There is absolutely no reason for this to be so fucking hard.

All that to bring up the landfill.

(And if that isn’t a roundabout way to get to a point, then I don’t know what is.)

There is a landfill not too far from here and Waste Management owns it.

WM wants to tear down a building and create a second landfill there.

Which is - essentially - in our backyard.

I don’t know anyone who wants to live downwind of a landfill.

I agree that it will negatively affect the value of my house.

I am a loud and proud NIMBY… in this situation.

Just, Jesus fuck, let a girl put an ugly, community matching, door on her house, yeah?

Because there are way more important battles to fight.

 

It’s because of these drugs I do


May 06, 2021 :: 11:53 PM

wikipedia: creeping me out since 2001

Watching Netflix’s “Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel” and checking out Wikipedia.As you do when you’re home alone.

We all know the story of Elisa Lam - and if you don’t, where the fuck were you back in 2013 when the security camera footage went viral? But, there’s always more to the story than the creepy elevator video or the random way she died…

Like she was bipolar.

Buckle up, kids. Shit’s about to get real.

I’ve watched the video more times than I care to admit and I always thought she was fucked up on… something.

It never once occurred to me that she might have been out of her mind due to mania.

Which, well, my history *might* suggest an occasion or two where, um, things that should have been in my head actually weren’t.

At this point, I need to post a disclaimer:

WHEN I WAS FIRST DIAGNOSED, MY MEDS WERE NOT BALANCED CORRECTLY AND THEY FUCKED ME UP MORE THAN I ALREADY WAS. I AM NOT PROUD OF - NOR DO I LIKE TO REMEMBER / DISCUSS - THIS ROUGH PERIOD OF MY LIFE.

You’ve been warned. OK?

So. Yeah.

That.

The list of prescription drugs she was taking caught my eye because I have taken all four of those. I’m currently taking two of them in combination.

But.

The Wellbutrin… holy mother of fucking FUCK.

I swear when I wasn’t tasting fucking COLOURS, I was bouncing back and forth between severe depressions and… well, Guinness record breaking manic phases.

I hit both extremes so quickly and so consistently over a few weeks that I couldn’t function.

I didn’t know which way was up half the time.

And have I mentioned?

I COULD TASTE COLOURS!

It took forever to figure out what was going on and it turned out that the Wellbutrin was making me manic. Except, when you’re already manic, shit goes sideways real fucking quick.

(As it turned out, I can’t take anything marketed as an “anti-depressant” because they trigger the mania. I can thank the Wellbutrin for pointing out that particular quirk in my biology.)

So… enough about me.

Watching the video and realising that she was bipolar was like reliving the Wellbutrin days.

I would never go as far as to call it a psychotic break, because I (thankfully) don’t know what something that severe is like, but I can tell you that there were points where I might have been hallucinating and I might have acted kind of, sort of, similar to the way she did.

Thankfully, my Wellbutrin days are far, far, far behind me and I’ve not had that particular experience again… but watching her… yeah. I can totally see the mania in her actions.

Although… the odd thing is that she seems to have stopped taking her meds, or at least was weaning herself off of them.

Which, yeah, if you’re fucked up enough and you stop taking the things that make you less fucked up then, that’s a totally valid reason for her behaviour as well.

Will we ever know what really happened? Probably not.

In all honesty, I’m not sure I want to know… because if it was mania induced, well… I don’t know how I could process that.

Penis!


April 12, 2021 :: 6:21 PM

“E” is most definitely NOT for everyone

I’m pre-empting my own fucking blog entry because, for as much as I love an absolutely terrible horror movie, even I can’t get past a movie who’s first line is - no shit - “There’s no such thing as strip ouija…” Like are you fucking kidding me?!?!

If all you have to offer me in the first half hour involves nudity or, well, strip ouija, yeah…. no.

Give me a red ball bouncing or rolling around on its own power or a good “The power of Christ compels you” any day. 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

All of a sudden, all kinds of fan fic is getting bookmarked. (I might have rediscovered a Drarry fic group. Maybe. In my defence, my fics have been recommended there, so we were bound to cross paths again.)

So… apparently, when a guy gets an inappropriate boner and uses a pillow to hide his obvious interest, he grabs an emotional support boner cushion.

But, wait. It gets better.

“Like if a blueberry muffin was a person. A very intense blueberry muffin.”

OK. I get the cinnamon roll thing, but blueberry muffin? That’s a stretch even for my warped imagination. Doesn’t matter. That fic was such a fun read, I’ll probably read it again.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I’m still working a fuck ton. Still pissing my weekends away trying to get caught up.

Except, that wasn’t enough for me, so now I’m taking a CMA study course. (Not just part 1 or part 2, but the combined, so I’m in class Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday from 8-10:30.)

Yeah.

I’m a fucking idiot.

On the plus side, the new accountant is working out, so maybe I’ll be able to hand some of that off soon.

Also - we have a new Director of Operations. He’s so cute. He started, took a look at the way things are, and decided he had to make a fuck-ton of changes in procedures and staff. He and I are on the same page with a lot of things. Surprisingly, they were all the same things I wanted to change when I started. (And on 4/20, it will be a year.) So, yeah.

Welcome to [the company], dude. Where you come in all excited to make some meaningful changes and realise that you’re never going to get there because YOU’RE STILL CLEANING UP THE FUCKING PAST.

Seriously.

He didn’t understand when I told him why I hadn’t closed 2020 or any of 2021 yet.

He does now.

File Under Grain


March 05, 2021 :: 7:57 PM

Dylan O’Brien is totally on my list. You know, THE LIST.

On Monday, I stumbled across some very good fan fic.

You know: Poetry. Angels sing. God is in the heavens and all is right in the world.

When I find something that makes me want to NEVER! WRITE! AGAIN! I treasure that bitch.

And then, when I finish it, I obsess over whatever my current WIP is.

I’m on draft 4 of my shitty Teen Wolf fic, draft 3 of my Yuri!!! On Ice fic, draft 6 of my Harry Potter Eighth Year fic (now with multiple POVs! WOOO!),  and I’m stuck on the 2nd 3rd 4th fuck it, I lost count draft of my Harry Potter soulmates fic.

It’s probably an understatement that I’m obsessing over what fic to obsess over…

But. FUCK.

For as smart as I am, for as many words as I’ve written over my lifetime, for the voices I’ve cultivated both for ‘serious’ writing and ‘internet’ writing, I still suffer from Imposter Syndrome.

My writing has won fucking awards. It’s popular on AO3. It’s made grown men cry. It answered that age old question, How Do You Tell Someone You Don’t Love Them Any More? It’s opened wounds. It’s healed them.

It’s alive and amazing and wonderful and it’s something I created. By myself. For myself.

But. FUCK.

That little lemony piece of goodness I finished snacking on - why was it so fucking short - was just an amazing piece.

One day, I’ll be able to write mindblowing tales of tentacle porn between ghosts, blow up T-Rexes, and walruses who are calculating the square root of cheese while doing lines of coke and having sex with chickens…

No.

Wait.

That wasn’t the story I just read.

That was the fucked up dream I had when I added a doxy to my nighttime ‘fuck insomnia’ cocktail.

Kinda made me never want to sleep again.

Seriously.

*sigh*

 

- - - - - - - - - -

One of my fanfic groups asked if you were any AO3 tag which one(s) would you be?

I chewed on that question for days but the winner is:  DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Honorable mention went to no beta we die like men, but I’m totally a dead dove.

The deadest of doves.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

Day whatever of Quarantine is under my belt (we both tested fucking positive!) and I am miserable.

Thankfully, that little habit I developed of working over the weekend has served me well. My home office is set up and (mostly) organized and I’ve been working without missing a beat.

In other news, we’re not firing my staff accountant… she quit.

Small little issue with her replacement, but I’m hoping it won’t blow up into something larger. I’m all for second chances and this seems like it might be worth the risk.

 

життя починаеться знов


February 27, 2021 :: 3:10 PM

I may write multiple shitty drafts, but I’ve never written anything this bad.

Soooooooo. A lot has happened in two months.

The one I find most amusing is that I posted my 10 favourite R.E.M. songs on Facebook and somebody caught the fact that both Good Advices and Wendell Gee were on the list.

Somebody’s been paying attention. If you don’t know what the significance is… well, I’m afraid I can’t help you. (Says “Wendell” who blogs at “goodadvices”.com and has an email address of “wendellgee1985”.)

The second one is that we fired and hired a CPA firm on Friday and then hired a new AR person this morning.

I AM SO EXCITED.

I know I’m an asshole, but I am so glad to be letting go of my AR person. I’ve have a problem with her since I started there. Her emails are typically written in redneck and are terribly embarrassing to read. As her boss, it’s HORRIFYING to come across these in my inbox. She’s such a bad reflection on me and my department… and I’ve let my feelings known. She’s also incapable of following instructions and refuses to take responsibility for anything. My number one rule is Own. Your. Shit. and she refuses. So… we’re bringing someone on board who will.

 

- - - - - - - - - - -

There’s so much I do - and don’t - want to talk about that I can’t even find a place to begin or a way to separate the two.

The major thing is: Mitch McConnell is a fucking asshole. But that’s really neither here nor there… it’s not like we didn’t know it.

I don’t know. I’m alive. I’m still working weekends. I’ve gotten better at running more frequently. I’m studying for two major exams. I’m focusing on Ukrainian.

I’m surviving.

I can’t ask for much more than that.

 

 

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