All About NashCon - Video Blogging Version

So, finally, here's the video version of my NashCon 2017 experience. I'm lazy, and talking is much easier than typing, so I just made a video instead. Oh, and after just watching it over to make sure it worked correctly, I'm already remembering a bunch of stuff I forgot, so I'll try and make another video sometime in the next few days to try and talk about all the stuff I forgot in the first one. And because it's me, I'm sure I'll hafta make a third video to talk about the crap I forgot in the first two. Hopefully I won't need to go past three...


Oh, and Blogger is apparently a bit of a fucking douche, and only allows video files that are up to 100mb in size, and the video (which ended up being almost 42 minutes long cuz a fucklot of stuff happened and also I babble) came out to 536mb in size. That's why it's a YouTube video instead of just me uploading it here. >_< Also, my webcam is a piece of shit, so the quality of the video sucks. My apologies. The important part is the talking, though, so hopefully at least the sound quality is okay-ish.

Free Manga/Comics List

Comics:
Invincible, Vol. 5: The Facts of Life
Invincible, Vol. 6: A Different World
Invincible, Vol. 7: Three's Company
Superman: Earth One, Volume 2
Batman & Robin: Eternal, Volume 2
Justice League: Rise and Fall
Uncanny X-Force, Vol. 1: The Apocalypse Solution
Superman Vs. Shazam!

Manga:

Rozen Maiden, Vol. 3
Rozen Maiden, Vol. 4
Rozen Maiden, Vol. 5
Rozen Maiden, Vol. 6
Re: Play, Volume 1
Peach Girl, Vol. 5
Peach Girl: Sae's Story, Volume 3
Kami-Kaze, Volume 3
Chibi Vampire, Vol. 03
Chibi Vampire, Vol. 10
Chibi Vampire, Vol. 13
Ultra Cute, Vol. 3
Dengeki Daisy, Vol. 06
Beast Master, Vol. 2
That Wolf-Boy Is Mine!, Volume 3
Fruits Basket, Vol. 20
Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Vol. 3
Trinity Blood, Vol. 11
Trinity Blood, Vol. 12
Vampire Kisses: Blood Relatives, Vol. 3
Otomen, Vol. 3
JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, Vol. 8
Buso Renkin, Vol. 7
Psychic Academy Volume 7
Gakuen Alice, Vol. 01
Gakuen Alice, Vol. 03
Swan, Volume 1
Blank Slate, Vol. 1
Beauty Pop, Vol. 3
xxxHolic, Vol. 14
xxxHolic, Vol. 15

Better?

I'm not getting better, and I'm never going to get better (no matter how much my therapist thinks that being positive and "thinking happy thoughts" will make me all sunshine and rainbows). I also can't do anything to make me better. What I can do, and I haven't been lately, is try and deal with the symptoms and try to not get any worse. And there are quite a few things making everything so damn much worse.

My psychiatrist doesn't listen to me and keeps prescribing medicines that end up being dangerous for myself and others. So far, since starting to see her, she's "tried" at least three different meds on me. Since she doesn't actually listen and/or give any fucks about me (I'm kind of wondering if maybe she's not fluent enough in English to properly do her job, since she has a very heavy western European accent), every single one of these meds have: A) done absolutely nothing for whichever mental illness I have that she was prescribing it for; B) either made the symptoms of said mental illness worse, given me brand new symptoms I didn't have before starting the med, or a fun fun combination of the two; and C) almost inevitably made me suicidal. When I mentioned being suicidal, up to the point of having a plan made out and steps I was in the process of following near the end of last year, she just nodded and continued like I hadn't said anything, even though this was a PSYCHIATRIST and I had been talking about how I had almost COMMITTED SUICIDE. So yeah...... pretty sure staying with her will just end up with me either in the hospital permanently or in a coffin (I have literally never had a mental health professional dealing me that was more incompetent at their job, including the therapist I had in Bellefontaine that bullied me to the point of wanting to kill myself that "mysteriously" went on medical leave and never returned shortly after I requested a transfer to a different therapist because I felt bullied, which makes me assume I wasn't the only victim). So when I go see her next, Ben's going to have a little words with her, and then we're going to get me set up with a different psychiatrist that isn't unintentionally trying to murder me.

For the last few months, Ben and I have had to go to the Social Security office near us literally at least twice a month to fix whatever fuck up they did this time, which was almost always a fuck up they had claimed they had "fixed" the last time we were. They keep withholding money from my monthly check, usually illegally, when they weren't supposed to. Every time they claim the problem's been fixed, they were lying through their teeth. It would seem that nobody there actually knows how to do their job. At one point, they had fucked up so bad that they had me listed as still living with my ex Jim, even though he kicked me out back in 2009. They had that one in my file a few months ago. We've been going in at the beginning of each month with our latest letter giving some non-existent reason for them taking money out of my check, usually some bullshit about being overpaid even though we'd already went in to get said bullshit fixed (because I had never actually been overpaid, to this day), and they temporarily fix it it and send the money they incorrectly withheld back to my account a few weeks later, when it's already too late to pay my rent or my car insurance with it. Then, every. Single. Time. They send us another letter saying that we owe them the money that they had wrongly withheld and finally sent us correctly, because I had been "overpaid". Or to put it simply: they keep money they shouldn't, then after we go in and fix it, they send the money they were supposed to send but didn't, then we get a letter saying we owe the money that they had sent when they had fixed them not sending the money the should have sent in the first fucking place, we go in to point out this idioticness, they lie to us about fixing it, and when the next month happens, repeat this exact same fucking process all over again, until the end of eternity. Yeah, it doesn't make any fucking sense to us, either, but it still happens literally every single month, exactly like that. Still waiting on the $73 they illegally withheld this month that we were told two weeks ago would be back in my account before last Wednesday, at the latest.

We can't afford a new bed, and the old box springs doesn't fit up the stairs, so I'm constantly in intense pain and I barely get any sleep so I'm constantly sleep deprived o top of the horrifying pain. This one doesn't need much explanation, actually. We've currently got the mattress directly on the floor in the bedroom, and that alone would be uncomfortable, even if the damn thing wasn't as worn out and useless as it is. Even worse is getting in and out of bed. My back and pretty much everything else is so out of wack that getting up from what is basically the floor itself is destroying it a little further every time I do it, and since the pain tends to be the worst right when I wake up, that makes everything just fuck all bad.

I've been gaining weight like mad crazy, but I have basically zero energy to do the basics like dishes or laundry, so I sure as fuck don't have it in me to exercise and lost the weight. And for me, dieting alone does next to nothing. Even if I ate nothing but raw fruits and vegetables and other equally as healthy and low in calories, it would probably take me about three months to lose one pound, and as soon as I stopped that for even a day, I'd gain everything I had lost back within a few weeks (depending on how much I had lost, about 10-20 a week gained, usually), but I'd gain at least another ten or twenty pounds extra. I have no idea how to get said energy necessary for me to exercise, seeing as how going downstairs to do whatever and then going back up again uses up so much energy that I have to sit for at least an hour before I have enough energy to even walk the few feet to go to the bathroom. Lately, I haven't been doing laundry, or dishes, or any other chores whatsoever. I've barely even been taking showers. Standing up for that long just wipes me for half the day. Caffeine doesn't help, extra sleep doesn't help, nothing helps, period.

Oh yeah, and the pain I'm in every second of every day deserves its own category, it's so bad. I have to pop Tylenol almost like Pez just to keep from screaming in pain and crying most of the time, and it's getting to where they don't work very well because I used them so much just to go from a 10 to a 7 on the pain scale occasionally. Hell, right now, my back in burning it hurts so bad, and I've barely done anything today, or recently, to make it be sore.

My medical doctor dropped my insurance last year (without telling me until I called to make an appointment for the sinus infection I had a few months after they had dropped me, mind you), but since I have a type of Medicaid that is barely accepted in Dayton, finding a general practitioner that not only accepts my kind of insurance but has an opening for me is harder to find than a real psychic running a psychic hotline for $4.99 per minute. It wouldn't be so hard to find if it weren't for the fact that the official lists maintained by Molina Medicaid mostly contain doctors offices that not only don't take Molina, but have never taken it and are incredibly confused as to why they were even on the list in the first place. So to find any sort of doctors office (like dentists, therapists, general practitioners, gynecologists, etc.), I have to basically cold call dozens and dozens of offices, ask if they accept Molina, ask if they are taking new patients, and for first three or four hours minimum, gets nothing but "no"s, and if I'm going off of the lists, a lot of above-mentioned confusion from receptionists. Not that either doctor I've had since moving here two years ago have been any good at their jobs or given one single fuck about whether I live or die. The first place was downright neglectful and abusive. She lied about the different pills I was prescribed, gave me one that was very well known to halt ovulation even though by that point I had probably told her we were trying to conceive at least half a dozen times, and constantly left me waiting over an hour because they literally forgot I was there. The second one was nicer, though she did everything in her power to avoid anything more difficult than a sinus infection (though at least she knew what one was, unlike my last "doctor"). That means neither of them did a single fucking thing about my pain or anything that was actually wrong with me. "She's a difficult patient because she actually wants us to treat her illness and medical conditions and not just treat her for the stuff she could easily treat herself with some NyQuil, plenty of fluids, and lots of rest. We must avoid her at all costs!" I'm not allowed to change which Medicaid provider I have until open enrollment in November, too (though I'm going to try calling soon and see if "so few places where I moved to accept Molina that it's impossible to get the medical care that I require as a functioning human being" is a good enough reason for them to switch me right the fuck now).

Our slumlord is trying brand new illegal ways to con money out of us, and are still not providing basic maintenance like we were promised in the least. Also, they didn't clean this place before we moved in like they said they would. The basement smelled heavily of dog piss, the carpets were so filthy the first few months that if you walked around barefoot for more than a few minutes, the bottoms of your feet turned black, we had to pick up a bunch of trash in the basement and found the used end of a blunt between the (not actually properly secured) carpet and the wall, we would leave messages with the maintenance guy and never hear back from him, or if he did actually respond, he wouldn't fix any of the stuff we told him needed fixed (almost a year later, and we still have a missing electrical outlet in the kitchen that he removed and never replaced, even though the one we told him was messed up was in the dining room), we left left multiple message about the roofing coming off after a huge storm a few months ago and we've never heard back from him, among many, many, many other things. They even painted over the electrical outlets and didn't clean them off afterwards, so most of them can't be used if it's a three prong plug (and every single outlet is wobbly and the plugs fall out constantly from it being so loose). Then there's cons where they try to illegally charge us money we never owed in the first place (the last time they claimed we had to pay them part of the water bill because a leak that we "should have reported" that didn't even exist, even though the lease states they are 100% responsible for 100% of the water bill 100% of the time, but when Ben asked for physical copies of the water bill to see where the sudden raise happened, they never brought it up again and didn't charge us for it).

The neighborhood we live in doesn't feel safe any more, because I'm constantly hearing noises that sound a LOT like gunshots. It's a lot like the worst parts of where I grew up, actually. I didn't mind the partially burned condemned house next to us (though I do wish they'd come tear it down, or at least pick up all the garbage, seeing as how the people who lived there before it burned down refused to use trash bags or even trash cans and just literally threw all their garbage into a pile in the backyard, which then blew in the wind into our yard constantly). I didn't care too much about the needs-to-be-replaced streets, or the sidewalks in the same condition. It's those possible gun shots that are scaring the living hell out of me. I'm always worried that they're actually gunshots, and that I'm not safe in my own home. I'm afraid of somebody breaking in no matter how safe the neighborhood (thanks for that phobia, Mom), but with all those noises I'm anxious 24/7 that somebody'll break into our house and steal our stuff, or steal our car, or murder us in our sleep, or the gods only know what else. The reasonable paranoia is taking its toll on me, both mentally and physically. We need out NOW. Unfortunately, we can't afford anything better right now. Buying a house is right out because we can't get a home loan since our credit is severely fuck bad. We can't afford renting anything too much more expensive than this, and this was one of the only places in our price range that had washer/dryer hook-ups and accepted pets.

I almost never get out of the house and it's even rarer that I socialize with anybody other than Ben. That one's kind of my own fault, though not intentionally. Lately, I'm terrified to make that first move, to contact anybody other than Logan and Levi to see if they wanna hang out with me or go do something. I'm not exactly sure why, but it's the absolute biggest fear possible lately. I would rather hit myself in the face than do it most of the time. I don't think it's because I'm afraid they'll say no, because I'm even afraid to call up or text or message people I know would say yes in a heartbeat like Nikkichan or Aaron or Slone. I'm just... I'm too afraid. But unfortunately, nobody even takes that first step for me. Part of the reason is the very few times plans get made, I tend to cancel last minute because I'm too tired, or just plain too afraid. But this not leaving the house and not socializing at all thing is literally killing me. I tried going to art therapy, but that only made things worse because almost all the other people there were much older than me, so I had almost nothing in common (and it didn't help matters any that most of them had known each other for years, and were constantly having conversations that I had no way to join because I didn't know this person or hadn't gone to that event three years ago or whatever).

My phone isn't anywhere near nice enough to be able to play Pokemon Go on it. This may seem like a pathetic reason, and it is kind of, except for what it's doing to me. I'm being left out again, just like I always am when I can't afford some new and exciting technology, or when I can't afford to go somewhere with friends, or any other reason that I get left out. The vast majority of people that I know are playing it. Basically, other than me, everybody that wants to play it already is. This leaves me out of any conversation involving the game. This leaves me out of any of the meet ups for the game (I could technically go, but it's not fun if you're the only one not playing). This leaves me out of any of the trips to go catch Pokemon together (same reasoning as the meet ups). And since this game is such a huge freaking deal to so many of my friends, this leaves me out of most of what they're talking about and doing. And it brings up a LOT of bad memories about alllllllllllllllllll the other times in my life I've been left out of something that I wanted to do but couldn't. Getting the ala carte options instead of the basic school lunch because we couldn't afford anything other than the free lunch programs. Not being able to play whatever games my other friends were playing if it involved any equipment that was even vaguely expensive. Not getting to wear any brand name clothes too school because we couldn't afford anything that wasn't Walmart-cheap. Having to listen to my friends talk these great places they went on vacation like Ireland or California or Canada or Disney World or whatever, when all we could afford was camping, in tents, at Indian Lake (which was only about an hour's drive from where we lived). Getting weird looks from people now when they find out I'm 32, but have never been out of the country, never seen an ocean, and never even been on an airplane. Knowing that I will literally never be able to afford to go back to college, even if they made it free, even if they forgave all college loans (I owe Wright State themselves upwards of $30,000 or so by now, and most of it wasn't from loans), and then hearing people talk about not wanting to go to college, even they can afford it, even if their parents are offering to pay for literally everything. Just...

So basically, instead of anything getting better, the shit pile keeps growing and growing, and it's gotten to the point where I can't breathe anymore, it's so deep and thick. If air holes aren't poked into all my problems soon, I'm not sure how much longer I'll survive. Literally.

Stream Of Consciousness

Sometimes I read books, and the story, or the characters, something about it feels so damn heavy. When I read One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, I swear, it felt like I lost 500 pounds when I finally finished. This one I'm reading right now, The Imposter Bride by Nancy Richler, it feels like a lesser version of that, like it's only an extra 75 pounds or so, but I'm not completely sure why. It doesn't seem like it should be that heavy, you know? I think maybe I will just never understand my own mind.

I feel so damn tired lately. Tired and sick, even though I know I'm not actually sick. I think I haven't been getting much sleep lately, or at least not much restful sleep. If I go to bed before 4am, I can't fall asleep. If I take a sleeping pill before 4am, I get maybe an hour of sleep before I wake up and can't get back to sleep. If I go to bed after 4am, it takes me forever to fall asleep, and when I finally do, the fucking sun comes up and getting restful sleep becomes impossible. Maybe I don't do enough during the day? Don't move around enough? But the thing is, it's a never ending cycle, if that's the case. I don't do enough during the day because I don't have the energy because I didn't get enough sleep because I didn't do enough during the day because I didn't get enough sleep because...

I think I've started losing weight, because my clothes are fitting better, and people keep telling me I look like I've lost weight, but I just can't be happy about it because the scale keeps telling me I'm not losing. Hell, when I weighed myself earlier, it said I gained a pound. I want to lose weight, but I just don't have the energy to get up and exercise. I can't even go walking because Ohio decided that nice weather is a luxury we don't deserve any more. I'm sure it'll stop being Winter 2.0 soon, but for now, it's cold as balls outside. And that means no exercise involving going outside whatsoever (unless I feel like dealing with 3 months of sinus infections again). *sighs*

In art therapy, I'm painting a bird house. It looks okay so far, but since I'm the one doing it, I can't help but think it looks like shit that nobody in their right mind would ever think of buying. Everything I create, I think is the most awful thing that has ever existed. I even hate my writing because I think it's terrible (even the stuff I like). Actually, no, I just think that everybody else will think it's terrible, and that's what makes me hate it so much. I can't believe that I can actually make something that an unbiased person would actually like or enjoy. I literally can't believe it. Why yes, my self-esteem is really that low.

This post was a bit of a test, to see if doing stream of consciousness writing helps me feel any better. I think this test was actually kind of successful. Might hafta start doing these more often.

Catharsis Time!

I have just been dealing with waaaaaaaay too much shit lately. No clue when I can see my therapist yet (I canceled my appointment on Friday because of stomach cramps and she hasn't called back yet, I'm going to try calling again tomorrow), so I'm just going to info dump in here for a bit, see if that helps any. Before I start, I apologize for all the negativity in this post (and in a lot of my posts). It's easier to rant and complain than it is to write about happy stuff, for some weird reason. Or at least it feels better. Maybe because people are always willing to listen to the good stuff but rarely the bad? *shrugs* Well, here's a good thing to help you trudge through the bad: Ben and I got married on February 29th. I'll try to put up a post about that later, with nothing bad in it, but I hafta put the bad stuff first or else it might leak into the good stuff.

Here goes.

Too much shit. Too much shit. TOO MUCH FUCKING SHIT!

So, got married on the 29th, right? Well my lovely abusive parents decided to ruin it (mind you, I hadn't told them we were getting married any time soon the last I talked to them back in October, so as far as they knew they were just ruining a random Monday (as well as my life), but that still doesn't excuse them). The wedding itself went wonderful, the "reception" went great too (cake in our dining room with everybody that showed for the wedding in the field behind our house). But then John sent me a text message about how I'm making my mother so depressed and I'm a horrible person for not wanting to be abused by them any longer, holy shit guilt trip blah blah blah. I'd already been stressed as fuck the entire week leading up to the wedding (I was terrified I was going to fuck up something, anything, everything, because yay anxiety), so this new low-even-for-John level of bullshit he was resorting to snapped me. I grabbed the bottle of vanilla vodka (75 proof), a shot glass, and sat down on the couch and started drinking. Only 6 shots left in the bottle, but it was enough to let the floodgates flow. Logan and Levi were still there, so Logan helped me feel better (after a whiskey sour to add to the vodka on an otherwise empty stomach) while Levi was upstairs with Ben as he used my phone to call John and tell him how much of a fucking monster he was and is and always will be, and how he ruined my life already, but thank you extra for ruining my wedding. I'm bawling downstairs this whole time, and then I went into full-on panic attack mode because I was terrified John was going to come to our house and do something (and it's John, so I still wouldn't put it past him, even now). And since Ben doesn't have over a decade of abuse acceptance training from John, he wouldn't fold to any of his manipulative fuckface-ery, which pissed John off to no end because he always wins, no matter how wrong he is, cuz he beats his opponent until they give up (I'd say thankfully not physically, but at least if he'd hit me, I could've had him put away in prison, and the punches wouldn't have hurt near as bad as the crap he actually did on an almost daily basis). So, long story short, I have no idea if/when they're going to turn my phone off, if/when they're going to come here and harass me in person, if they were lying when they said they were finally going to let me have all of my stuff back that they literally would not let me take when I moved in with Ben, and if I'm going to have to end up getting a restraining order against the both of them. So yeah, best wedding present evar.

Fast forward five days. I won't go into the details of the matter that led up to it, but a friend made a comment, while severely stressed himself, that trivialized rape, and having had Matt rape me at 19, and having known a few other rape survivors in my time, and have seen just how bad the stigma in this country is for anybody that gets raped, it made me re-snap. I almost ended up in the hospital because of it. Didn't help matters any that Ben is really bad with words sometimes, and he unintentionally sounded like he was trivializing my rape as well. Figured out everything with Ben, and now I just need to have a conversation with the friend to make sure he understands why what he said was bad, and why it stabbed me worse than almost anything else ever has (and considering the shit from my past, like the guy who almost murdered me and the girl her literally ruined my life in 3rd grade, that's really saying something). Adding injury to insult, I ended up semi-reliving the damn thing in my head, and let me just say, I would rather saw off my left foot with a dull butter knife covered in salt and lemon juice and battery acid than ever have to remember that horrible experience ever again. Hell, I'd rather chew through the damn ankle myself.

And now, because hell on earth comes in 3s (or 3 billions if you're me), I have some mildly threatening guy calling for some bitch named Brittany Mayo who apparently used to live here but never fucking bothered to fill out a change of address for literally anything (because we've almost gotten more mail for her than we have for ourselves at this point), saying he needed to serve papers to her and that he was coming by her house (our house, not fucking hers, but why would he ever bother checking out ANY information when he can just sound like he's coming to arrest me in Brittany Mayo's place because he damn well feels like it?) on Friday. I'm assuming he paid to get the information look-up from the white pages, which lists me and two chicks I've never met (one of who we get mail for constantly, and neither of which were Brittany Mayo) as the people who are associated with this address (so I get to call them up tomorrow and ask them why those other two bitches are listed and please remove them because I don't want to get harassed because of them next). Ben called the number that was in the vague as metric fuck message and told them that it's my number, not hers, it was NEVER hers, and that she hasn't lived here since before we signed the lease in July, and the guy said that they removed the number for us and basically hung up on Ben. So, at this point, I have no fucking clue what's going on. Is loan shark knee cap breaker coming by tomorrow to serve me a death certificate, or did they actually fix their very big mistake, or am I still going to be getting harassing phone calls directed towards some bitch I have literally never met in my entire life? The worst part is, when I Googled the two numbers that were my missed calls (the guy left the message when I was asleep, and the other number didn't leave any message), I found out that, according to the people on 800notes, that one of those numbers was repeatedly connected to that IRS scam where they pretend to be from the IRS and tell you you owe the government lots of money and you need to send it all to this P.O. Box immediately and not to any actual government addresses, as well as a few other highly illegal debt collector scams. The guy that left the message even sounded a little bit like the guy who left that message for me a few years back about how I was going to jail for check fraud and I needed to call the number he gave me to set up a court thing or whatever. I'm sure at least some of you remember that experience? I was planning on killing myself because I was afraid of going to jail and being constantly raped and abused. Always fun when one lie from a sleazy illegally-operating debt collection agency almost sends you to the hospital. Basically, I was about an hour away from asking Ben to drive me to the ER (I had already cut my leg in a couple places, and was about to start on my arm) when I looked up the phone number I was supposed to call, and found out they were sending out literally the exact same message to a ton of other people, and only changing the county that the court was in, depending on where the person being scammed lived. At this point, for all I know, maybe this WAS the exact same guy and the exact same company. I have to deal with this shit for strangers now, too?

And, to add a lovely end to an otherwise shit-filled couple of weeks (save the actual wedding bits), I masochistically read the comments section of a friend's anti-Trump Facebook post and had the displeasure of reading the eye-bleedingly stupid insanity of not one but two Bigots For Trump. Can I just please fast forward through to about December? That way, if Bernie won, all this shit will be over, and if just about anybody else won (especially ANY Republican, and ESPECIALLY the Trump monster) we can start planning on which country we're going to move to. Because I've been paying attention to this election, I've been seeing the interviews, been reading what each person plans to do with the presidency, and Bernie plans to unfuck America, Clinton plans to do whatever her corporate sponsors want her to do, and every single Republican plans on metaphorically killing off this entire country and possibly destroying the entire world so it'll be a matched set. Literally every single possible Republican candidate scares the living hell out of me. And I don't mean that in any joking way whatsoever. They scare me. They terrify me, because of the stuff they're planning on doing, and because of the KKK and Neo-Nazi level hate mongering they're encouraging just to get the ignorant bigot vote. As the sign said that got that guy kicked out of a Trump rally, if any Republican wins, they will most certainly "Make America Hate Again" (paraphrased so it's not just Trump monster). They've been doing such a good job of it already. What the hell kind of future are we leaving for our children? And if Trump wins, are we even leaving them one?

Oh, and not that anybody actually comments on these things, but I do in fact screen every (rare) comment that comes through before it gets posted on here. I do it to get rid of spam, but it's also great to weed out any hate mail (not that I've gotten any on this blog, but I have gotten it before). So, if you want to bash me for thinking that the anti-Christ would be a safer choice for president than the literal monster that is Trump, then feel free. And make sure to leave your IP address so that I can block you, because I'm not a fan of bigots, and if you support Trump you are a bigot. End. Of. Story.

Yeah, It Is Supposed To Have A Title, Isn't It?

You ever get that thing in your head, where you want a write a blog post, but you have no idea what you want to write about? Cuz that's me right now. *shrugs*

We decided fuck it, we're just gonna drive to Pennsylvania. It'll save us about $50 or so (I think, unless the gas is fuck expensive there). Plus, we won't have to keep asking Whitters to give us rides to places, and we can leave here, and leave to come home, when we damn well feel like it, instead of by the bus's schedule. And I won't have to leave my car in the Greyhound parking lot for 5 days, too. In Columbus, no less. So, yays! Also, no weight limit or bag number restrictions, so we can take our own pillows and blankets (and possibly a fan), as well as any of our board games that we want (Ben's happy that we get to take Legendary and Sentinels Of The Multiverse). Makes life a bit easier. And the money we save is going towards a new serpentine belt before we leave, which we needed anyway, so more yays there!

The kittens are doing really good, and Pocky and Wasabi are being much less bitchy. Wasabi's been licking them clean, even. That makes me glad. I was afraid they'd hate the poor babies forever. Pocky's still a bit bitchier than Wasabi, though, but here's hoping. They each have a favorite kitten that they treat better than the other one, though. Wasabi really likes Unagi, and Mochi is Pocky's favorite. They each picked the one with the similar personality. ^_^ I <3 my furbabies so much.

I entered a poetry contest at the library a few weeks ago, and recently got an email saying they received it, and were doing the reading and judging and such right now. If I'm one of the finalists, they'll call me. The thing is, I couldn't use Underneath The Surface, which was my only non-sucktacular poem, so I highly doubt I'll be getting that phone call. *sighs* I used to be able to write buttloads of poetry when I was severely depressed, but now that I'm not cutting myself on a regular basis, not a freaking word of poetry. Gyah! I had to use one of the ones I wrote when I was in 7th grade. Hey, muses, get the fuck back here already! Amber wants to get back to writing! Fucking bitches, the whole lot of them... *grumbles about her deadbeat muses*

So, last but not least, I submitted two drabbles to the FWG Halloween anthology this year (since my muses allowed that much). I think they're both okay-ish. Here they are. (for those that don't know, a drabble is an entire story, told in exactly 100 words)

Hospitable by V. Amber

“That's the fifth family this year, Bob,” Veronica muttered as she watched the people putting stuff into a moving truck as quickly as they could.

“Yep,” Bob replied as he leaned back in the dusty chair.

“I try to be hospitable, I do,” she went on, waving her hands about. “Moaning at night to entertain them. Blood running down the walls for decoration. But this always happens.”

“The living are strange that way, dear. Always have been, always will be,” Bob said, same as every other time.

“Hopefully the next family stays longer,” Veronica grumbled.

Bloody Mary by V. Amber

“Bloody Mary,” Danielle chanted over and over, staring into the bathroom mirror. The candle flickered, but nothing else happened.

“You said since it was Halloween, it'd work,” her sister Lisa complained, punching her lightly.

“It was supposed to, I swear,” Danielle whined, staring harder, in case that's what was missing.

“Didn't work, loser,” Lisa said, spraying tap water at her, splashing some onto the mirror.

As the water dripped down, Danielle sighed and turned on the lights. “It should've...”

The water dripping onto Danielle's face that woke her up later that night proved that it had.

Wedding Blues

So, one of my very closest friends is getting married in less than two weeks, and I desperately want to be there (and I'm allowed to be, because I'm invited, and so is Ben). The only sucky part is the fact that she lives in Pittsburgh, PA, while I live in Dayton, OH. It's less than a 4 hour drive, but no way in hell would my car make it that far (and if it did, I doubt it'd make the return trip). Wouldn't want to drive it anyway, because I hatehatehate driving somewhere that I don't know where I'm going, and I extra hate huge highways that I don't know where I'm supposed to turn off at. So, that means bus ride (because fuck are plane tickets expensive). There's some really good ones scheduled by Greyhound, but the closer it gets to the departure date, the more expensive they become. We won't have the money to buy the tickets until Thursday, and they're already at $100+, and the price keeps on rising. At this rate, I'm not 100% sure if we're going to be able to afford to go. *cries softly* I've only ever been invited to one friend's wedding, but I couldn't make it because I was sick as a freaking dog, for the few days before and after, as well. That sucked so damn hard, because these were friends I'd had since college, and I think I may have even been the one who introduced them. And this current wedding is for one of my longest-held friends (we met online in... 2001, I think?), who I actually stayed in contact with for all those years. She's always been on my blogrolls, always been on my friends lists, whether it be MySpace, LiveJournal, Facebook, or any other site we were both on. I'm willing to do almost anything to get to that wedding. I haven't seen her in 13 years!

So yeah, since I don't trust eBay (and don't have the dough to drop on all the shipping crap right now anyway), and it's too late in the year and my neighborhood isn't the right kind for a yard sale, and consignment shops wouldn't buy the kind of clothes I want to sell, that means I get to sell stuff at Half Price again. And usually, that thought fills me with dread. But for once, I don't feel so bad. Not only is the money going towards something I desperately want, but I think I can finally accept the fact that I don't actually need all the crap that I own, I just want it. My growing-up-really-poor is showing.

Though for some later time, I might wanna try out eBay. Just because I was screwed over the one time I sold something on there (I sold a digital iTunes gift card to someone, and after they paid me and I sent the code to them, they lied through their fucking teeth claimed that their account was hacked, so eBay sent me an email about how I'd get my item back (which was literally impossible) and the person would get their money back, yet I still ended up getting the money deposited in my PayPal account, so I have no fucking clue at this point), that doesn't mean I'll get screwed over again. Plus, this'll be physical merchandise, so they can't really wait until they get it, claim their account was hacked, and still get to keep it. I have a friend who sells a ton of stuff on eBay. I'll hafta ask her how to go about it the right way. Cuz it's clothing that I can't fit and don't want enough to keep it around until it fits (most if it, I'd have to lose at least 50 pounds to get into it, and some I'd need to lose even more). *shrugs* Dunno. Worth a try, I guess? Just won't work for this particular thing. *sighs*