completely random

Hands… (not) touching hands….


March 24, 2020 :: 8:28 PM

lack of races equals lack of motivation

I had a really bad birthday week.

Like top three worst birthdays.

Considering that birthday #1 was the year my mother died and birthday #2 was the year after my father died, to crack the top three you know shit had to be bad.

A 10K, a half marathon, another 10K, and Rival Run were all cancelled within a few days of each other.

Universal was shut down.

People who should have wished me a happy birthday disappeared.

No special birthday meals.

No birthday cake.

A whole lot of nothing.

And yes, I am perfectly aware that this is a minor issue compared to some people’s lives during our new reality, but… I’m bipolar. This sort of situation will create a very dangerous low. When it swings the other way, it will be a very dangerous high. I purposely make a big deal out of my birthday for a reason. In order to survive, my birthday has to be surrounded by fun and I need to be distracted. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.

So.

Let’s talk about that low.

I had (rather foolishly) thought that all the shit I went through after getting fired was as bad as it could be. As depressed as I could possibly get.

Ooooooooh, how I wish I had remembered Birthday Depression.

Holy fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever see the sunshine again.

As it is, it’s still dark and cloudy as fuck, but there’s light on the horizon.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

My mother and I had a (thankfully) short yet ridiculously complicated relationship.

She died two days before I turned 17. She was 45.

I, myself, just turned 45.

That alone is a huge mind fuck. I know I’m not an alcoholic and that I won’t die from the same thing she did, but… when your time is up, it’s up. My only question is whether or not there’s another ticking time bomb in my DNA. I mean, she already gave me bipolar, and a family with a history or heart disease. (Thank you for the SVT, mom… and possibly, the heart murmur, too.)

It’s been twenty eight years.

Twenty eight years of freedom.

Twenty eight years of wondering if I’m going to die at 45, too.

Twenty eight years of living with the fact that “I gave everything in life, I leave nothing in death…” was published IN A FUCKING BOOK.

Twenty eight years of knowing a double life was lived… and that I got the worst of her.

Twenty eight years of conflicting emotions.

Twenty eight years of not forgiving because I earned the right to hate her.

Twenty eight years of not forgetting what she did to me.

Twenty eight years of starting my day singing “Ding dong, the witch is dead.”

Twenty eight years is a lot of life to miss out on, but she didn’t deserve to be in my life and I’m glad she’s gone.

(Did I say we had a complicated relationship? It was… Complicated.)

Twenty. Eight. Years. (part one)


March 06, 2020 :: 6:56 PM

Fitting, seeing that I’m writing YOI fan fiction and watching HP

It was a strange feeling to lose your parents. It was the kind of deep, enveloping pain that only came with truly life-altering loss, but at the same time it was accompanied by a degree of emotional liberation. Being without parents was like taking the stabilisers off a bike; both exhilarating and frightening. It was the final challenge on the road to becoming a true adult, beholden to no one but oneself.

—Iain Rob Wright (The Picture Frame: A Horror Novel)

 

Truth.


February 28, 2020 :: 1:21 PM

somebody’s been reading my blog…

Dear South Florida,

I gave up everything to move here.

A house I built.

A job that was OK, but I could have had some real longevity at.

Friends.

Music Therapy.

My entire fucking life.

And what happened?

The stress of the move and not really fitting into the Cats’ mold got me fired. It’s a long story and does not end happily.

Then, I went to a company where being a complete asshole was rewarded and wearing a skirt an inch too short got you written up.

Then, I went to a company that is no longer financially viable.

I’ve spent the last two months wondering if there would be enough in the bank to cover payroll. I was even told to start looking by the CFO. She was pretty great and allowed me to interview.

Until Thursday.

I have this little problem: I live near Boca, but work in Fort Lauderdale. 95 is a shit show at any point of the day. For me to interview up north - where I live - meant leaving wicked early. She was cool with that until I needed to take time today in order to interview. I was taking too much time off and not getting my (totally non-existent) work done.

I was given an ultimatum that was basically stop interviewing or resign.

I resigned. I didn’t know what else to do.

It’s easily an hour to get from FTL to Boca / West Palm. That’s if traffic on 95 behaves. (It doesn’t. Doesn’t matter what time.) If I left work at 5, I wouldn’t get there until after 6. Who the fuck wants to hold a job interview at 6? They were all at 3 or 4 PM. I couldn’t get a “decent” time to save my life.

So… yeah.

My inability to assimilate down here is causing me some serious issues with employment.

Can you please help a girl out and let me find a fucking job with a company that doesn’t punish me for being me?

I’d really appreciate it.

Hugs and kisses,

Me

 

The kotyonok and his asshole


December 21, 2019 :: 8:50 AM

it is hard as fuck to slow burn two characters you desperately want together

OK. So. Fun stuff first.

I didn’t win Nano, but the complete re-write of my YOI fan fic is going particularly well.

Telling it from the point of view of a fifteen year old under extreme amounts of pressure has been interesting. My headcanon for him is pretty brutal, but - shockingly - it’s not as bad as I’ve seen in other fics. I’ve given him anger issues, anxiety, everything fifteen year old me experienced long before it had a name. I’m not necessarily making him bipolar, but he’s definitely got issues. I’ve also given him an amazing version of his already pretty awesome grandpa, though. And brought in some of my experiences growing up Ukrainian. A lot of that cultural knowledge has been lost to time - and the swiss cheese my memory has become due to some of my meds - but I’m able to remember enough to google what I need and then find a Russian translation for it.

The biggest issue I’ve had is not digging up the ghosts of my past brushes with undiagnosed mental illness, but instead the fact that Yuri is 15 and Beka is 18. I hate the aged up fics because it feels like Barcelona is just foreplay. The whole side story of Beka meeting him five years prior to the Grand Prix final gets lost when Yuri is suddenly 18 as well. Beka’s a patient man. He’s been waiting FIVE YEARS to spend time with this boy, and instead of it being creepy, it was so well written that you know Otayuri is going to be canon. Later. It’s a slow burn of the slowest type.

I’m not the best with writing slow burns because I’m impatient… but it’s important not to rush this. Granted, the age of consent is low enough in all the concerned countries where it doesn’t matter, but American readers are often squicked out by it. Yuri is considered underaged, which is why he’s aged up by other impatient writers.

It’s challenging to write a young boy who wants everything NOW. Who wants the acceptance of this skater he looks up to. Who actually likes him. Despite the walls he’s built due to his backstory, he really wants Beka in his life. He thinks he loves Beka… On the flip side, Beka’s waited five years. I don’t see any reason why he can’t wait another three. I’ve made it obvious that he has a crush on Yuri, but he has the self-control required to not devour the boy.

It’s been hard, and it’s gone off the rails a few times, (I’ve rewritten one chapter multiple times!) but it’s better for the additional edits.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

OK. Serious stuff now.

Trump’s been impeached.

And he’s not going to pay the price of essentially breaking the law. (Gross simplification. I’m not a political scholar.)

I understand WHY it became a matter of parties. I understand WHY a lot of people say that the Dems wanted to undo the 2016 election.

Hell, I’d been wondering what it would take to impeach him and remove him from office - WHILE HE WAS STILL RUNNING.

He’s an absolutely shitty person and his followers… obviously have no morals. No sense of right and wrong. And his own party condones his shitty behaviour. TWITTER condones his shitty behaviour because his tweets are “important” and “historical”. He’s sexually assaulted women, announced that he could kill someone and people would look the other way, has attacked multiple people for really, what amounts to no good reason. (I mean, John McCain wasn’t necessarily one of my favourite people, but he didn’t deserve to be treated so harshly by Trump.) The reporters, the girl speaking out about the environment…there are so many I can’t list them all. OH! What about wanting to hold the G7 Summit at his PERSONAL property? Emoluments clause, anyone? (Not that that’s the only time foreign officials have visited a Trump property…or that the taxpayers are putting money in his pocket since his visits to Mar-A-Lago are essentially paid for by us.)

And the most mind-boggling bit? The part that drives me up the fucking wall? Trump attacked Greta Thunberg not once but TWICE. His fucking wife who has this anti-bullying campaign, has stayed fucking silent about the fact that her husband, the fucking PRESIDENT, is bullying a SIXTEEN year old girl with Asperger’s. Especially when people think he’s lashing out because she’s Time magazine’s person of the year.

Yeah. That pisses me off.

You have no idea.

I have been hoping and praying that they find a way to remove him from office since day one.

Unfortunately, being a shitty person is not one of the impeachable offences.

He handed the Dems exactly what they needed, but because Trump has visibly pissed the Dems off since day one, it’s definitely caused the impeachment to fall along party lines.

I’m disappointed that the Republicans have decided to protect him at all costs.

I’m disappointed that the Dems can’t figure out how to get a decent candidate in front of the American people… I hate all the front runners, for multiple reasons, some of them - admittedly - not rational.Call it the gut check. I could never verbalise why I hated Clinton and Sanders, either. I just knew I didn’t like them.

I think the impeachment is going to hurt the Dems come this next election and that pisses me off… I wish there were a fair trial coming up instead of this fucking shitshow.

Then again, if I’m going to waste my time on pointless wishes, I might as well wish to go back in time and not move to South Florida. Or I might as well wish for the bipolar behaving itself and not getting fired from my dream job because I had a complete breakdown and couldn’t function. (By the way, I was protected by the EEOC, but they found a loophole. Long story and you’re never going to get the full story here.)

Whatever…

I’m off to binge the Mandalorian… I’m only allowing myself to watch it if I’m on the treadmill. Six episodes at about 30 minutes each is about 3 5Ks or 9 miles at my slower pace. That’s not too bad. I could also make it a game: run full out when Baby Yoda does something adorable or when Mando shows emotion… but then I might be running full out for the 6 episodes. (How the fuck does Pedro Pascal manage to convey so many emotions when you never see his face?!?!?!)

And yes,  I know there are 7, but I’m not allowed to watch it alone and the husband not’s home right now.

Let the insanity begin!


September 02, 2019 :: 10:48 AM

the countdown to september 6th begins

We have a four day weekend because we’re waiting for Dorian to hit. We may have Wednesday off, too, depending on what happens.

As much as I hate the idea of missing work because of a fucking HURRICANE I’m also pleased that the number of days at my soon-to-be former job are winding down quickly.

I would have loved to take a week off between jobs to reset; this isn’t the way I would have wanted to do it, but I’m enjoying the time off.

Even if it is in an unnaturally dark house because all the windows are covered with hurricane shutters…

 

- - - - - - - - - -

Let’s talk about the old job for a moment, shall we?

On Tuesday, the other three people in the finance department found out. Before we left the boss’s office, she said that it was to stay within the department.

On Wednesday, I was pulled into my boss’s office because a person I don’t talk to and a person I couldn’t pick out of a police line-up knew. I didn’t even tell the person in the pod who sits across from me and I would have told her on Monday, but I didn’t.

During that conversation, it came out that Bully #1 was the one that spilled the beans. Tuesday. As soon as my notice became official. Before she flew out the door for her vacation.

Bully #1 is being written up AGAIN… as soon as we get back to the office. This ought to be interesting.

On Thursday, I ate lunch outside for the first time in three weeks. (I’d been eating in my car - nice and quiet and away from the annoying woman I normally eat lunch with). She asked if I was upset. I have nothing to lose so I told her I was angry that words were being put into my mouth, things that I said in confidence were being thrown back in my face and oh yeah, I’m leaving. She said she didn’t know that, so I fired back that I highly doubted it.

Here’s the thing, the two people who knew were in lunch lady’s pod. I haven’t talked to her, and on Tuesday, Bully #1 was seen talking to her before she left. Gee, I wonder…

 

- - - - - - - - - -

Racery starts again on September 6th.

This time, I’m on two teams: Chilton Running Club’s Road Trip 2019: Back to School (WTF is a Crimson) and the Fandom Running Club’s Battle of the Fandoms II (Team on Fire).

So excited to do this - thankfully, the miles count for both teams. I managed 50 miles for Quidditch, a lame 35 for Battle #1. Since I’m training for the half marathon, I’m hoping to pass the 50 miles I did in Quidditch. Ideally, I want to cap (15 miles/day) at least once… I had a hard time getting the 35 miles for Battle #1, but those issues are behind me. I hope.

All the stress I’ve been carrying because of the old job is almost behind me. I just need to survive three (two?) more days.

I’m starting to feel like the old me; the pre-work bullshit me.

Life is getting better. I can work with that.

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