Hello again, whoever happens to be reading this. Since I have been going to an increasing number of movies lately, I have been tempted each time to write a review of whatever flick I was able to go and see. Since I have found myself without full-time employment, I need something to feel productive.
SO. Not sure what I'd call my reviews other than possibly "From the Back Row" because that's where I always try to sit for movies when going to the cinema.
And also, since I don't in believe going by the popular opinion about a movie, I have my own little checklist of criteria when going to a movie to gauge it.
How I judge a film:
Entertaining? Yes/No (Primary means of judgment)
Quality acting/scripting? Yes/No
Engaging Story? Yes/No
Relatable Characters? Yes/No
Stuck to Story from Book it came from? Yes/No/A little
Balance between Movie/Real Logic? Adequate/Imbalanced
So far I have seen/Shall Review:
Star Trek: Into Darkness
Iron Man 3
Now You See Me
After Earth
The Purge
I am going to be seeing/Shall Review:
Monsters University
World War Z
Red 2
The Lone Ranger
Monday, July 1, 2013
Sunday, June 30, 2013
4:43AM on June 30th. YAY.
I am in pain, I am awake. I am coming down from an anxiety attack. I have been on a self-imposed break from my normal source of social interaction and entertainment due to a mental health crisis that is hopefully being ...well. Handled a bit better. And I am re-watching my Dirty Jobs DVDs. Coming down off of/weaning off an anti-anxiety medication that I had THOUGHT was actually HELPING me I am amazed at just how much different a person becomes taking these meds and now I have a bit more empathy for folks with things like paranoid schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and any other that require medicating via psychotropic drugs.
Before I had simply said blindly 'they should take their meds and be responsible about it' with my usual Autistic, no-grey-area nuance. I still believe that to a point... that point being that I now realize why schizophrenics and bipolar folk may like who they are off of their medication better than who they are while on the drugs. Whether or not who they are off the meds are the ones safe to be around others in society or not.
I still think those who know they are dangerous when not medicated should take that medication regardless of how they feel because that's just common sense/decency, so long as they have access to those medications. And I have always believed that many of us with mental illness (or moreso than the general population) can choose to let it define us or we can try to become more than our illness/disorder/syndrome/condition. Or at least that's something I tell myself.
The medication I was taking is one I won't name, for my own reasons. But I will describe the effects it had on me.
At first, the biggest change I personally noticed was that it made me very drowsy about a half hour after taking it, so I only took it at night so that it wouldn't put anyone else in any inconvenience if I happened to say, pass out completely with no adjustment. The only other things I began to notice was that my brother and I were able to actually talk without arguing with one another. I didn't become irritated with little things he did that previously enraged me, I did and said fewer things that enraged him. Even my mother took notice of the 'new me'. Her moment of realizing something was different was a bit more dramatic than I knew.
It started when she took one of my phone calls. A college classmate had helped arrange for me to have an interview at a place she had given her two weeks' at. My mother had not only taken the call for the interview, but set it up for me. This, I was grateful for. She then told me that I would have to drive myself out there, because my brother would have our other car until well after the time my interview would take place due to yard work and such for one of our relatives. I said all right and asked her to go over the directions with me.
The day of the interview I had to get up fairly early, had breakfast and left in plenty of time. The interview took place almost an hour's drive--with traffic--from my house and timing it was a bit of a challenge. And then, on the way there when I made a slight wrong turn whilst within sight of my destination... the power steering of the car completely died and I had to strongarm the wheel to even turn into the parking lot of the office I was to be interviewed at. Just before I walked into the office I texted my mother to let her know that I would need a ride from the end of the interview because the car broke down.
I went through the interview--I did not get that job, kind of glad I didn't now--without much of a hiccup. I'm fairly certain the reason I didn't get that job was my lack of experience. Either way, I ended up not only waiting outside while my family prepared to come and get me, it began to storm. Tornado warnings, in fact, were voiced for the area and I ended up having to duck into the salon around the corner from the doctor's office to escape the weather. The salon folk were even nice enough to let me use their phone when my tracfone ran out of minutes and even let me have a glass of water without even penciling myself in for a brow wax or anything. (I also nicked a bit of candy from their jar at the front desk. Lunch had been a bit canceled due to the car's farting out on me.)
When my cavalry finally arrived in the blustering wind and almost pouring rain--thunder, lightning and everything--the first thing I noticed when I got into the working car was the look my mother was giving me. I asked her what the look was for. And she replied "...You're not crying."
If I wasn't as self-analyzing as I tend to be, this would have been something I would have either taken as a joke or been insulted by. But since I am often cripplingly self-analyzing, the fact that I hadn't noticed it was a shock. Normally even being told I had to drive to a place I had never ever been to before BY MYSELF would have brought me into an absolutely paralyzing panic attack and crying hard enough that I would need a powerade or something to rehydrate with. Not only had I managed to navigate to an area that was not only unfamiliar to me, but far away from my home, the car had broken down while I was on the way there. Not only had I made it there, I made it in time for my interview and WENT THROUGH THE INTERVIEW WITHOUT BREAKING INTO HYSTERICAL TEARS. AND THEN I CALMLY WAITED IN TORNADO CONDITIONS FOR MY FAMILY TO COME RESCUE ME FROM THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. HOLY (sorry mom) SHIT.
So the simple statement of 'you're not crying' held a bit more significance than a joke or insult. It was as amazing to me as it was to her. She then confessed that she had been waiting all week--it had been a day or two before the interview--for me to break down and come to her crying and begging her to drive me to the interview, don't make me do it alone don't please oh my FRIG don't make me. I'd done so for things far lesser than an interview.
...And so the anti-anxiety medication felt like the one thing I had been waiting for. The 'I-give-no-frigs' pill that would even me out and maybe help me to function as an average adult.
But my drugs mantra of 'what's the side effects' was something I ignored in favor of the benefits the drug gave me. Slowly my ability to feel any sort of pleasure in things began to suffer. I stopped writing in my previously ever-present spiral notebooks which contain my notes, character profiles and ideas as well as my work on the various unfinished novels and stories I have. I stopped feeling like things had meaning.
That was at one pill a day. I then became employed at a small roofing company in my town. Due to the stress that I began to feel there and the problems that arose from my inability to cope with it like a 'normal' person I began to take more than one a day to even myself out more.
And then The Incident happened. That's something that I'll go into in more detail later as that particular story has no end to it just yet and I don't want to tell a story without an end juuuust yet. It happened, and it shook me to my very core.
In an attempt to cope with it, I began taking three of those pills a day. At this point, I thought perhaps I just had been suffering from enhanced feelings of my normal depression from an uneven blood saturation of the drug and my body was having mini-shocks from not having it at a certain level at all times. I now think that this was me trying to justify having to take the medication because of course it couldn't be the cause of or an enhancer for the unbelievable stress I was under due to The Incident.
The turning point was when my mother came into my room and asked me seriously if she and my stepfather should check me into a local mental health facility, because I was scaring her more than I possibly had ever scared her with the way I talked about how I felt. I felt there was no reason to exist, and simply desired to cease existing. Because everything was pointless, and there was nothing I could do to impact any of it. After a long talk, not only did I agree to wean myself off of the drug and to take a week long hiatus from WoW simultaneously. This was because my mother did not want me to have any additional social stress--my biggest trigger--while coming down off of the drug.
The biggest struggle was admitting that I had realized--remember that I am self-analyzing to a fault? Well, haha...--that I had been experiencing this dysphoria since I began taking the drug. And I had ignored it because... I liked that I could suddenly be able to have a relationship with my younger brother, whom I usually had alienated because I was naught but the irritable, nagging older sister who was bothered by him breathing. I liked not bursting into tears over anything. I liked not giving a frig. What I didn't like was not being able to give a frig. And my family did not like that in exchange for being a bit easier to deal with, I wanted my life to end and I took no pleasure in anything. At all. Even a visit from my toddler cousins and a gift of a betta fish failed to give me any joy.
I wanted not to feel like I was a burden due to my having Asperger's Syndrome/high functioning Autism. And I have learned that like Rumplestiltskin on Once Upon A Time says constantly: Every magic cure has its price. And my family was unwilling to trade my will to live for a more manageable me.
That's what it boils down to. And in the week so far--I began weaning off the pills on June 25th--I have noticed the change in myself. I have ideas again. I can write. I can play pokemon until my DS battery dies. I talk at a mile a minute again. I remember my almost endless repository of mostly useless facts again. I also feel as though the other shoe is about to drop. While I know feeling like myself again is amazing... that cushion of relief is going to be punched by reality again shortly. I know it is. But for now I am glad to be feeling more normal again, even if it means I'm going to end up fighting with my brother, exasperating my parents and alienating people I meet in person until the end of time.
Speaking of 'reality' (LOL, subject shift. But seriously, enough serious blog.)
If Dirty Jobs was a fictional show, Mike Rowe would likely have amazing, 4th wall shattering powers. He even breaks the tenuous 4th Wall that reality TV is 'bound' to.
The way he interacts not just with the audience and the folk he's--by his own words--slowing down but with his crew is by my eye, innovative for a show host. He demonstrates a relationship with the people whose lives he puts in danger by having to say, be in close proximity to large reptiles or having to hang thousands of feet in the air by a little harness (window washing in hawaii) and to me, that still sets Dirty Jobs apart from all other reality shows. Especially from any other that has tried to replicate the premise.
I'm halfway convinced this is because of the very nature of the show, and the fact that in these settings even a TV show host is not afforded the luxury of being anything but real, especially with the crew he worked with.
Before I had simply said blindly 'they should take their meds and be responsible about it' with my usual Autistic, no-grey-area nuance. I still believe that to a point... that point being that I now realize why schizophrenics and bipolar folk may like who they are off of their medication better than who they are while on the drugs. Whether or not who they are off the meds are the ones safe to be around others in society or not.
I still think those who know they are dangerous when not medicated should take that medication regardless of how they feel because that's just common sense/decency, so long as they have access to those medications. And I have always believed that many of us with mental illness (or moreso than the general population) can choose to let it define us or we can try to become more than our illness/disorder/syndrome/condition. Or at least that's something I tell myself.
The medication I was taking is one I won't name, for my own reasons. But I will describe the effects it had on me.
At first, the biggest change I personally noticed was that it made me very drowsy about a half hour after taking it, so I only took it at night so that it wouldn't put anyone else in any inconvenience if I happened to say, pass out completely with no adjustment. The only other things I began to notice was that my brother and I were able to actually talk without arguing with one another. I didn't become irritated with little things he did that previously enraged me, I did and said fewer things that enraged him. Even my mother took notice of the 'new me'. Her moment of realizing something was different was a bit more dramatic than I knew.
It started when she took one of my phone calls. A college classmate had helped arrange for me to have an interview at a place she had given her two weeks' at. My mother had not only taken the call for the interview, but set it up for me. This, I was grateful for. She then told me that I would have to drive myself out there, because my brother would have our other car until well after the time my interview would take place due to yard work and such for one of our relatives. I said all right and asked her to go over the directions with me.
The day of the interview I had to get up fairly early, had breakfast and left in plenty of time. The interview took place almost an hour's drive--with traffic--from my house and timing it was a bit of a challenge. And then, on the way there when I made a slight wrong turn whilst within sight of my destination... the power steering of the car completely died and I had to strongarm the wheel to even turn into the parking lot of the office I was to be interviewed at. Just before I walked into the office I texted my mother to let her know that I would need a ride from the end of the interview because the car broke down.
I went through the interview--I did not get that job, kind of glad I didn't now--without much of a hiccup. I'm fairly certain the reason I didn't get that job was my lack of experience. Either way, I ended up not only waiting outside while my family prepared to come and get me, it began to storm. Tornado warnings, in fact, were voiced for the area and I ended up having to duck into the salon around the corner from the doctor's office to escape the weather. The salon folk were even nice enough to let me use their phone when my tracfone ran out of minutes and even let me have a glass of water without even penciling myself in for a brow wax or anything. (I also nicked a bit of candy from their jar at the front desk. Lunch had been a bit canceled due to the car's farting out on me.)
When my cavalry finally arrived in the blustering wind and almost pouring rain--thunder, lightning and everything--the first thing I noticed when I got into the working car was the look my mother was giving me. I asked her what the look was for. And she replied "...You're not crying."
If I wasn't as self-analyzing as I tend to be, this would have been something I would have either taken as a joke or been insulted by. But since I am often cripplingly self-analyzing, the fact that I hadn't noticed it was a shock. Normally even being told I had to drive to a place I had never ever been to before BY MYSELF would have brought me into an absolutely paralyzing panic attack and crying hard enough that I would need a powerade or something to rehydrate with. Not only had I managed to navigate to an area that was not only unfamiliar to me, but far away from my home, the car had broken down while I was on the way there. Not only had I made it there, I made it in time for my interview and WENT THROUGH THE INTERVIEW WITHOUT BREAKING INTO HYSTERICAL TEARS. AND THEN I CALMLY WAITED IN TORNADO CONDITIONS FOR MY FAMILY TO COME RESCUE ME FROM THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. HOLY (sorry mom) SHIT.
So the simple statement of 'you're not crying' held a bit more significance than a joke or insult. It was as amazing to me as it was to her. She then confessed that she had been waiting all week--it had been a day or two before the interview--for me to break down and come to her crying and begging her to drive me to the interview, don't make me do it alone don't please oh my FRIG don't make me. I'd done so for things far lesser than an interview.
...And so the anti-anxiety medication felt like the one thing I had been waiting for. The 'I-give-no-frigs' pill that would even me out and maybe help me to function as an average adult.
But my drugs mantra of 'what's the side effects' was something I ignored in favor of the benefits the drug gave me. Slowly my ability to feel any sort of pleasure in things began to suffer. I stopped writing in my previously ever-present spiral notebooks which contain my notes, character profiles and ideas as well as my work on the various unfinished novels and stories I have. I stopped feeling like things had meaning.
That was at one pill a day. I then became employed at a small roofing company in my town. Due to the stress that I began to feel there and the problems that arose from my inability to cope with it like a 'normal' person I began to take more than one a day to even myself out more.
And then The Incident happened. That's something that I'll go into in more detail later as that particular story has no end to it just yet and I don't want to tell a story without an end juuuust yet. It happened, and it shook me to my very core.
In an attempt to cope with it, I began taking three of those pills a day. At this point, I thought perhaps I just had been suffering from enhanced feelings of my normal depression from an uneven blood saturation of the drug and my body was having mini-shocks from not having it at a certain level at all times. I now think that this was me trying to justify having to take the medication because of course it couldn't be the cause of or an enhancer for the unbelievable stress I was under due to The Incident.
The turning point was when my mother came into my room and asked me seriously if she and my stepfather should check me into a local mental health facility, because I was scaring her more than I possibly had ever scared her with the way I talked about how I felt. I felt there was no reason to exist, and simply desired to cease existing. Because everything was pointless, and there was nothing I could do to impact any of it. After a long talk, not only did I agree to wean myself off of the drug and to take a week long hiatus from WoW simultaneously. This was because my mother did not want me to have any additional social stress--my biggest trigger--while coming down off of the drug.
The biggest struggle was admitting that I had realized--remember that I am self-analyzing to a fault? Well, haha...--that I had been experiencing this dysphoria since I began taking the drug. And I had ignored it because... I liked that I could suddenly be able to have a relationship with my younger brother, whom I usually had alienated because I was naught but the irritable, nagging older sister who was bothered by him breathing. I liked not bursting into tears over anything. I liked not giving a frig. What I didn't like was not being able to give a frig. And my family did not like that in exchange for being a bit easier to deal with, I wanted my life to end and I took no pleasure in anything. At all. Even a visit from my toddler cousins and a gift of a betta fish failed to give me any joy.
I wanted not to feel like I was a burden due to my having Asperger's Syndrome/high functioning Autism. And I have learned that like Rumplestiltskin on Once Upon A Time says constantly: Every magic cure has its price. And my family was unwilling to trade my will to live for a more manageable me.
That's what it boils down to. And in the week so far--I began weaning off the pills on June 25th--I have noticed the change in myself. I have ideas again. I can write. I can play pokemon until my DS battery dies. I talk at a mile a minute again. I remember my almost endless repository of mostly useless facts again. I also feel as though the other shoe is about to drop. While I know feeling like myself again is amazing... that cushion of relief is going to be punched by reality again shortly. I know it is. But for now I am glad to be feeling more normal again, even if it means I'm going to end up fighting with my brother, exasperating my parents and alienating people I meet in person until the end of time.
Speaking of 'reality' (LOL, subject shift. But seriously, enough serious blog.)
If Dirty Jobs was a fictional show, Mike Rowe would likely have amazing, 4th wall shattering powers. He even breaks the tenuous 4th Wall that reality TV is 'bound' to.
The way he interacts not just with the audience and the folk he's--by his own words--slowing down but with his crew is by my eye, innovative for a show host. He demonstrates a relationship with the people whose lives he puts in danger by having to say, be in close proximity to large reptiles or having to hang thousands of feet in the air by a little harness (window washing in hawaii) and to me, that still sets Dirty Jobs apart from all other reality shows. Especially from any other that has tried to replicate the premise.
I'm halfway convinced this is because of the very nature of the show, and the fact that in these settings even a TV show host is not afforded the luxury of being anything but real, especially with the crew he worked with.
Friday, June 7, 2013
*UPDATE*
Time for lots of chocolate? I think so. Setback brownies taste pretty good.
Will give details later if I develop the ambition.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
New Glasses! ...Again?
YAAAAAAY I can seeeeee!
Wait, didn't we just do this? Ah well, here we are again! Brand new poly-carbonate lenses that are quite a bit more heavy duty than my last prescription... My eyes apparently had gotten quite a bit worse since the first pair of new glasses that I showed off here. I also was able to finally pay for them with my own money!
That's right, I have a JOB now. Sure, it's tough. Before April I had never ever been in a work-type situation where I'm getting paid to be socially awkward and fumble my way through things I'd never been trained to do. As most--if any--of you know, I am a trained and certified Medical Coder and Biller. Ever since I got out of high school I have trained in the medical field. ...BUT.
I am not employed--currently--as a medical coder, which would be my dream. No, currently I am employed as an administrative assistant at a roofing company. Times are tough, everyone knows this. Especially here in Florida, it's almost impossible to get employment and ESPECIALLY in our saturated medical field.
I expected it to be difficult, but as an Aspie in the workforce for the first time? It's been unbelievably hard! I thought like a fool that I'd be able to function like an 'average' person and just deal with it. Buuut that fell to pieces pretty quickly. I had three days of training, from a woman who had only been really working in the position I'd be filling for two weeks... needless to say I became VERY overwhelmed quickly. It led to a full-on breakdown in front of a coworker where I was sobbing hysterically and it became VERY clear that this would be another aspect of my life where I could not compartmentalize, and being an Aspie would deeply affect.
I highly recommend that if you are an Aspie or any high functioning autistic and you are entering a workplace that is unaware or unaccommodating to folk like us? Make SURE you have very strong coping mechanisms in place. I was completely unarmed because I had never been in ANY workplace situation, so my NORMAL coping mechanisms were not prepared.
So yeah. I also advise--if at all possible without costing you the job--being sure that your employer is aware of your Aspie/Auti-ness. ESPECIALLY if you're in a field that you have never previously been in. Medical field is SO FAR FROM the construction field. I was drowning.
Hopefully tho, I will soon be obtaining employment in my field of choice!
Oh, and here's what my hand is resting on in the first photo. He's very uncooperative.
And before I forget!
I recently have collaborated--and by collaborated I mean given stock photos of myself and helped with the concept--with an artist to make a picture that represents how I feel as an Aspie, though I think almost anyone with mental health issues can relate. This one, however, every purchase of a print sends the proceeds to the National Autism Association. You can learn about that picture and see it Here and Here.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
What's this?
Raised eyebrow. Smirk of victory? Perhaps.
Well. A lot has happened in the last couple of months, in many, many ways. Most notably? I gained a bit of weight back. But the new year marks the end of my Christmas haul of sweets--Ugh, I want more sugar cookie cutouts! Only got FOUR on our family's annual tray of assortments--and also hopefully me and my mother snapping back into a workout routine.
Okay maybe not so noticeable but the scale keeps judging me. Cheeky little measuring machine.
Perhaps MORE noticeable than my weight gain is the fact that I not only walked into Mordor, I chucked the ring and came home!
Translation: I endured 9 months of panic attacks and crying in the bathrooms of my school and came out with the certification I slaved away for every day and hour in that school. I now have letters after my name! CPC-A to be specific :D I'M ALL CREDENTIALED AND STUFF! It's amazing, and I still haven't quite digested that fact yet. I've been so used to feeling useless and depressed that it's hard to really let a good thing sink in sometimes, y'know?
The certification is just one more step so far. I'm going through what my mother's identified as a 'change of life' transition, and dealing with that hasn't been easy. While I'm glad that I have endured school for as long as I have and excelled at it, breaking the routine I set when I was doing so has been hell on the OCD centers of my brain. Any sort of change is bad enough, but going through a change of lifestyle has been very, VERY hard to swallow.
Admittedly I am quite afraid of going into the workforce. I have never done it, the closest I've ever really done is volunteering part time at the local hospital. I've become all too familiar with my responses when I have to spend up to 6 hrs a day for 5 days out of the week amongst a large group of people/coworker types and ... I'm afraid that I won't be able to measure up. I can't really see myself spending every day of my life agonizing over my performance, what other people are whispering about me, and hiding in a bathroom stall so I can cry my eyes out. Everyone I talk to says it's a lot different than it is in school, that I'll be far more left alone than I would be in a school situation. I'm still finding myself panicking a bit whenever I think about it.
I don't want to be a burden on my family, not financially or in any other way. So... panicked and terrified or not, I am at least going to give being a productive member of society my best shot. I hope that I can succeed at this. I know I'm not normal, I don't process things the same way that others do. But... dammit I've been through college and trade school and succeeded pretty damn well at them. However miserable I was. If I can't make it out there... well. I can try to publish or self publish a novel and see how that does... but otherwise..
I'll figure something out.
Anyhoo! Doing lots of praying, and watching lots of TV. ...aaand staying up to unbelievable hours. Frig, I was up till 6AM yesterday. I guess at some point my system will get into a sleep pattern that isn't wibbley wobbley.
Pokemon until I pass out? I believe so.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Adventures in Dress Sizes 2
Okay, I'm sure many of you remember this.
I know I do.
Well, a lot has happened since April. Meaning also that a few more pounds were dropped. Since I was struggling for a halloween costume to wear to school today, I dug around my closet and found the Dress of Despair once more. At first I figured I should pass it over and not torture myself with it.
But then, I thought. What if?
So I took it out once again, and this time with my mother's help I pulled the evil pink thing over my head once more.... and....
IT FITS AGAIN! NEVER HAS IT FIT SINCE I WORE IT TO MY COUSIN'S WEDDING!
And all it took was getting back down to 169lbs. Augh.
However, as great a victory as this was, my old bridesmaid's gown was not the ideal nor chosen option I went with for the school costume contest.
No, for that? I wore this little gem.
That's my cousin Tisha in the background. Her mother loaned me the costume. I love my family.
Well, a lot has happened since April. Meaning also that a few more pounds were dropped. Since I was struggling for a halloween costume to wear to school today, I dug around my closet and found the Dress of Despair once more. At first I figured I should pass it over and not torture myself with it.
But then, I thought. What if?
So I took it out once again, and this time with my mother's help I pulled the evil pink thing over my head once more.... and....
IT FITS AGAIN! NEVER HAS IT FIT SINCE I WORE IT TO MY COUSIN'S WEDDING!
And all it took was getting back down to 169lbs. Augh.
However, as great a victory as this was, my old bridesmaid's gown was not the ideal nor chosen option I went with for the school costume contest.
No, for that? I wore this little gem.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
What's This?
ER BLERG PERST ERMERGERHD
 |
| ERRRRRRMEEEEEHRRRGEEEEEERRRRD~ |
Hay people. (Should anyone be out there reading this who I don't know already.) Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. Some things have gone on.
AND HERE ARE A FEW OF THEM:
-Went to Illinois for a friend's wedding. It was absolutely lovely. She spoiled me rotten while I was up there. (Sad to say my idea of being spoiled is going out to eat for breakfast. At all. >.> Ever. I gots loooooooow standaaaaards.)
-Halfway to getting my CPC certification! YAY! Gainful employment soon? I certainly hope so!
-Mists of Pandaria! I am super excited, hoping I'll be able to get this expac and soon I'm sure I'll have plenty of new and interesting screenshots for people. Or at least, screenshots that everyone else is putting up with snarky captions on them.
-Guild Wars 2? Perhaps... >.> Screenshots? ...We'll see.
-Asperger's? Still there, dammit. Been having a few issues with it lately, largely with paranoia and depression being activated. Fun stuff. Thankfully I have some wonderful friends and a loving mom who help me cope.
-Losing more weight! I'm now the lowest weight I've been since I was a teenager, still need to lose about five more pounds before my doctor is hopefully happy. Not easy, but like my mother says, the less you have to lose, the harder it seems to get. Not sure why, but it's definitely holding true. (I still can't believe I've lost 54 pounds since last February.)
-Baby cousins are 8 and 9 months old now. Time's going too fast and I'm not even their PARENTS. AUGH.
-Why am I posting all this stuff?
Okay, it's late. Did a stupid thing and posted a comment on a stupid, tasteless picture on Deviantart, got snapped at by the 'artist' (I hesitate to say artist because all he seemed to have up are photos of himself looking like a jersey shore wannabe, narcissism poster boy. Judging from the title of the picture I commented on, he plays far too much GTA or whatever hooker killing game is the most popular nowadays.) who then blocked me from commenting. It's stupid, and it probably shouldn't bug me as much as it is. But it's late, as aforementioned I have been having anxiety and paranoia issues lately. Things like this do seem to happen more often when I find myself not tired enough to sleep and no one is on that I want to talk to...
So yeah. blog post. ...Time to browse the internet like a bengal kitten on crack until I pass out? I think so.
(Photo is my baby cousin Lyla Rose Myers. Beautiful Lyla! ...She was angry I wouldn't give her the camera to nom on....)
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