Recovery

Last night was just plain shitty. Everyone was touchy and easily upsettable. I said something that sent Votania to her room playing Korn very loudly. I sat in my room and felt miserable.

After I sent an apology to Votania, she did emerge and we had a talk.

I'm a different person around Darkside and I know it. I'm nice, polite, sweet, not as prone to depression, someone easy to love. (Does he love me?) Away from him, I'm odder, more easily made sad, different.

I like the person I am near him better. I've been trying to change myself so that I'm calm and happy whether I'm near him or away from him, so I can give to myself the same serenity and joy of heart, mind, spirit, that I have in his presence.

Self-changes are always the most difficult. The easy route would be to keep Darkside near me always. I could marry him, and never be apart from him, and I would be the person I desire to be without having to work at it a lot. That would be cheating, though. Until I am the person I am around Darkside all the time, I won't be worthy of him.

I strive to be worthy.

Last night, and for a long time before that, my mind lashed back and has been being other than what I strive to be to my roommates, while around Darkside I've been the same sweetheart as ever.

We figured this all out last night.

( Cut edited in 2002.12.04 for sanity reasons )

Fuck you very much, Shawn, for making me mind things like that. I would have been just fine, just fucking fine.

I came back out and we exchanged stories and cried on each other. I wound up with a nice batch of clogged sinuses.

It's all good, though, even though I'll be paying for my crying fit for a week. Today we're having aggravated monkey cheese (macaroni and cheese) for lunch.

LAN!

We've got the LAN set up. This is cool.

ENKI's suffering, though, because he's verrrry very slow. Adam and I can do shit on the web, but unless the entire network's quiet, ENKI doesn't have a chance to do anything.

He needs some new parts, and Adam's going to be trying to see what he can do.

Out

Well, today Votania met Jase, the dude from work who's cute like Darkside, only older, with longer hair, and more regular facial hair. Goatee, basically. He touched her walking stick and then started hopping around in circles shaking his hand. Guess we forgot to tell him it's copper and picks up static like a motherfucker. Heh.

One of those days. My sinuses are still not happy with me. teenagewitch is going on a job quest, filling out applications. She checked in at the front office here in the apartment complex, and checked out the price for a studio apartment, and tried calling a chick in the area who's looking for a roommate.

It would be awesome if Sabrina and Neighbor worked out so that she would be able to move in with him, and have a job locally. Looks like Wells Fargo is hiring. I might want to check that out myself. You can't get an application at any of the store branches, though, just at the main offices. There's one on Northern right next to the Burger King that Adam and I hung out in that one day, and then there's one right near the Metrocenter. Hmm. That would be a step up in the world.

In other words, I'm looking for a job. I am not happy having Phillip Morris paying the vast majority of my paycheck, indirectly. It does not sit will with me. I can get a job further away from home and ride the bus, if they have reasonable hours.

...We'll see what happens.

You see, I'm pissy with one particular survey. I've refused to do that one, the cigarettes survey, and finally Gordon told me, "Look, go to FAO and tell them that." He was meaning that if I really was Wiccan, I should let them know so that I would be removed from all of that sort of survey and it would be all good.

Wasn't all good. They basically said, "Suck it down," so I will continue to attempt to refuse to do the survey on a local level with the supervisors, and start hunting for a new job, one that pays better.

Fuck me, I'm selling out.

brokenhearted?

So I've started shielding against Adam's energy, when he buzzes all warm and danger-tingly at me, and he can feel it. It bounces back at him as heat. He radiates like a lightbulb anyway, and when I reflect back at him, he can't stand the heat.

When Votania radiates back at him too, both of us in the same room, he gets all clammy and sweaty and it feels weird for him.

Last night, when my bounceback was high, Adam decided to take the other bed, because the heat coming off of me was just too furious for him to take. Why, dear? After all, it's your own energy...do you know how to deal with it?

Home Alone

Everybody's left for the evening. Odds are they won't return until dawn; they're hanging out with Studio-Dave doing their art thing, and those always run late. Adam's going off home to pick up some stuff, and won't be back for a while. It's 6:14 pm right now, so I have a good six hours or so to myself before I have to go to bed before work in the morning.

Votania has instructed that I should use this time by myself to just get in touch with me, myself, I, and the rest of the entity in this body that's writing this journal entry.

Fair enough. Where shall I start?

No, quiet's not a good thing.

Silence in the house is a mixed blessing. I like a little noise to help my day along. Happy quiet is one of the things I like best, I suppose, but not, maybe, absolute silence.

Noise!

Evening

Had a nice chat with Rana, the constructor of Votania's all-too-shocking walking stick. He's thinking of moving into this area.

I'm thinking that I need to find a TV to set up my room so that I can have anime in there with the grown-ups, so that Nephew need not be exposed to tits, tentacles, and excess bloodshed.

I'm not sure ...

I'm not sure how comfortable I'll be alone in the house in blacklight for a while, alone in the house in blacklight without a weapon in my hand.

It manifests strangely, those old fears, alone in the near-dark where odd things come to light in the soul.

Every room in this house should have a blacklight.

old habits

The short green plastic pitcher with the white lid was for orange juice. The brown plastic pitcher, identical in every way but for color and pattern of battering and scratches from years of use by a household, was used for apple juice. Pineapple juice went in the green pitcher; cran-raspberry, in the brown pitcher.

You had to turn the lid a half-turn to the left when putting it back in the refrigerator, lest someone stack something wrong on top of it or next to it and it would spill.

Pissing me off...

Ack.

9k forwarded messages with attachments do not make me happy. My e-mail account is a touch low on space, so large image files and forwarded messages, especially if I for some reason am suddenly hauled away from my scheduled internet access for a day or three, do not make my inbox happy. Between that and the spam, I run short on room far too often.

I told Adam to quit it with the huge forwards. 9k is not a huge forward in absolute terms, but when I get a 9k forward that holds 2-3k of amusing pass-around joke, and the other 6-7k are just headers and "Ha ha, I thought this was funny and bet you will too" from the past ten people who have seen the thing and passed it on, then I get peeved.

When it happens more than twice from the same person, I get huffy.