Thanks, Neil Gaiman, for destroying my self esteem.

You’re just too fucking good of a writer. I read your stuff and I get depressed because you describe things in such a vivid and interesting way. Mostly, your prose makes me want to take a jagged piece of plastic from a broken casset box and slit my wrists, up and down, not across because I am forced to face my own inadequacies as a writer and human being. While I understand that my suckitude is my own fault and problem, I’m having a really chemically imbalanced day, and whenever I read your stuff, I just marvel at how my own sucks in comparison. Surely there is no hope for it, or me, and the only solution is the aforementioned busted box from a Genisis album that I thought was really cool at the time.

Depression level: Phantom of the Opera/Christine, you ignorant slut

If you’re a nerd (Heather) you’ll enjoy this:

I’m completely undercaffinated. So I was typing up this thing and trying to write John Cooper and of course, it came out “John Stewart,” and it took me like 20 seconds to figure out what the hell was wrong with it.

Mom’s addiction.

I kind of wish it was to alchohol or shoes or something… but it's Law and Order.

When Lenny left the show, my parents actually bought a cake that said "Goodbye Lenny!" and had their own private Law and Order party.

So two nights ago, my sister Mary calls. She says mom wants to talk to you. So I asked why SHE was calling, instead of mom.

"Mom's too busy watching Law and Order to dial right now."

Look, I wanna fricking icecream cake. You know, the one I didn't get for my birthday, or any birthday after I was 11. And a My Little Pony.

Working up the energy for apathy

Have I mentioned my parents are getting a divorce? I can’t remember if I did or not. I used to spend so much energy and emotion on their problems (see old posts from the beginning of this blog) but lately I can’t seem to care. I dont know if it’s because I have too much on my plate, or if I’m worn out from them dancing in little circles for years and years, or abject shock that mom’s finally doing something about one of the problems in her life that doesn’t involve yelling and screaming and blaming someone else (well, there’s that too, but usually mom just blames and screams and never actually takes any sort of positive action to see that the issues is actually resolved.

Maybe it means I’m growing up, because right now I’m worrying about myself and a certain situation in my own life that I’m trying to resolve, not to mention school and our ongoing debate on where to live. Shit, I’m even having trouble working up the energy to care about the other family drama shit going on with my grandfather and how everyone’s pitching in to take care of him and my grandmother. I’m even having trouble feeling guilty that I haven’t seen them since I’ve been back in town, and I’ve been back in town a whole two days!

I worry about my “family of origin.” I want to be there for them, and treat them right. I want everyone to know that they’re loved by me, and I want to have good times with them.

I also want my fucking homework done, a cookie, a full night’s sleep, and someone to even notice the super-human effort I have been putting in this semester to get everything done in my life and with school and everything else. I think getting shit done on the wire may be my mutant power. I’d really rather be blue or have big knives shoot out of my hands or be able to fly, however.

Maybe I’m just too effing busy to care. That may be it.

Sind Sie ein Serienm�rder?

The sad part is, I was 9/10 at knowing which was a serial killer and which one was a computer language author. What can I say? I can tell the difference between someone who doesn’t bathe because of social inadequacy due to his enormous nerdiness and intellect and someone who doesn’t bathe because of social inadequacy due to being a psychopath.

**updated–link now works. Don’t know what the hell happened–everything worked when I uploaded it and then it was missing half a sentence. You know, the one with the link in it.

Time to panic!

I haven’t even had time to panic lately. But I have about 36 hrs and 4,500 words to go. Oh yeah, and I have an enormous project due on friday that i haven’t even started. Life is good, no?

F�rchten Sie die M�hmaschine nicht. F�rchten Sie das Lama.

This is more about llamas than I ever wanted to know.

I wonder if alpacas are vicious little bastards like this? Cuz they look like cuddly miniature llamas, kind of. Wow, geeze, man. That’s nuts.

Missouri you suck

Ok, I’m not too bitter with Missouri for only having rest stops every 64 miles or so. I’m a grownup, I can hold it. But here’s what NOT to do. Say next rest stop 64 miles, then I make the decision to wait… then I pull off, go through this crazy intersection to get to your “welcome center” which, after you’ve passed st. louis should really be a good “goodbye and good riddance” center… and the GATE IS CLOSED. White hot hate for you people. I got off at the next exit, and had to drive 6 miles past the greenest soy fields and like four bible thumping churches to this sleeply little mennonite community to the nearest Super Walmart. Da hell. And I was a little grumpy because it was 8am and I hadn’t had any dinner yet and we’d driven thru the night and stuff. And yeah it took us ALL FRICKING NIGHT to get through Missouri. You’re the state that doesn’t end. HATE.

ADD attack

I’ve been in hardcore ADD mode all night. I’ve blogged like twice, did three outstanding homework assignments, looked up info for a fourth and actually read the assignment for next week in one of my classes. Shit, I handed in a homework assignment tonight that wasn’t due till Monday.

I also wrote elevendy billion words tonight. And by elevendy billion, I mean1580. Which is a lot of words, considering I also went to that place and bought pants, then went to walmart and bought wrapping paper stuff, and wrapped every single one of my in-law’s CHRISTMAS presents tonight. I really did have to restrain myself from wrapping the CHRISTMAS presents I picked up here that are intended for my family. The only thing that really and truely stopped me was being out of tissue paper. Like seriously, that has never ever happened to me in the entire existance of my existance. I still have tissue paper at home from two CHRISTMASES ago.

I went up stairs for a little midnight snack–read almost 3am snack (and because my ADD was compelling me to grab the two rock candy pops off the counter upstairs to put them in the baggies for my nieces) and got some club crackers and soy milk (oh so bad, but oh so yum) and found half of a 12 oz bottle of Coca-Cola Zero on the counter. I promptly busted open the fridge, dug around for the Gentleman Jack. I put about two shots in, grabbed another bottle of Zero, and headed down stairs. I filled it to the top with the stuff in the second bottle and I’ve been drinkin’ away for the last like 15 min. I think I’m finally starting to unlax. I was seriously being all OH MY GOD, I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE!!!! Now I’m caring less that I’m 700 words away from my long-term word goal for tonight. I might even go to bed without something done. I also decided to give James his Batman bank tonight

Pocket-sized my ass

No, not the pocket on my ass.

So I have to do this hugeungo assignment involving this archeic database that would be cool if they’d bring it into the 21st century. Shit, even the late 20th century would be nice. This thing is like so 1973 it isn’t even funny.

Anyways, I was going to scribble down some commands in my notebook to get me started. Look, if man doesn’t work, then I’m doomed, ok peoples? So I start going through the user guide chapter by chapter which is just pointless words and pictures, and it’s taking too long. So I click on the link for the “pocket guide.” It’s a PDF, so I’m not paying attention to length. I scroll through FIVE PAGES of index, and I’m like ok, what the hell. THE THING IS 80 FRICKING PAGES LONG!!!

Pocket guide… yeah, if you’re Paul Bunyon or at least the brauny man.