Louboutins, leather pants, prom dresses, little black dresses, skin tight pantsuits, so many sequins, mermaid suit with red pushup bra, thigh-high boots, bathroom selfies, drunk Santa security guards, yay for bow ties, 80s ball gowns, peroxide blonde, boyfriend jacket no boyfriend, I can’t hear a fucking thing, five-inch heels, sashaying, shiny green dress, shiny gold dress, shiny blue dress, shiny red dress, shiny silver dress, leopard print jumpsuit, animal print everything, I don’t need to see your underpants miss, faux-hawks, orange suits, rope belts, captain hats, Popeye pipe, spray tans, yay for ripped jeans and a blazer, zipper pants, why are you sitting on the floor, why is that beat pulsing non-stop, so many pantsuits!, a spaghetti strap dress should not be worn over a sweater, that blouse is not a dress, just because it’s a fancy hotel does not make bathroom selfies classy, what the fuck have you done to your hair, shiny mermaid, backless blouses, why is your dress a tube top, yay for converse, honey you are not Pink, apparently there’s something about Mary, no I won’t wear my teeth to the awards, apparently if you sit on the floor beside the VIP entrance they’ll let you in, my that’s a lovely chest tattoo miss, why is you boyfriend – who looks like Squiggy – chugging two beers for you fancy photo op, all the “VIP’s” are putting their empty glasses on our table – WTF – put it on the floor fucker, I think I’ll just rest my beer can in my cleavage. I need to go home. I need my cats.
I have been very bad at blogging lately, but I’ve had a rather bad go at things. I’ve been attacked at work to the point of quitting to save my sanity, I’ve rescued yet another cat (yes, that’s eight now) and I’ve finally come to grips with reality. I’m doing a job that I’ve always dreaded, but I’m really trying to find positives in the daily grind.
Most importantly, however, I’m finally embracing all my oddities and cultivating them. My “eccentricities” have often been my downfall. I no longer care what other people think. I always thought that I’d been doing that already, but now… the gloves are off. I’m not hiding anything anymore. I’m going to be me, no matter who I meet.
I AM the Witch of South Mountain. I am here! Today is my day! I raise a glass to all who read this. Drink up witches. Today we ride!
It has been a long time since I’ve blogged. I think the main reason is that I have felt like I haven’t had anything to say. Today, that changed. Today, I met my hero.
It’s not the first time we’ve met, but today… today we really talked to each other, and she became my hero. She doesn’t know this, but she will. We didn’t talk about ALL THE THINGS, but we talked about enough things.
I’ve been through some pretty shitty things in my life. She has “been there, done that” with almost all of mine, and then some (times 100,000). But she’s not arrogant about it. She’s just awesome. I have always had a habit of letting the bad things get to me, and bring me down. I let them control me. She’s had so many things try to tear her down, and she still gets up, smiles, and says “bring it on motherfucker!”. This is what I want to be.
I’m not going to let this woman slip away from my life. She’s too awesome for words. She’s inspirational. She makes me want to be a better me. I am going to try to learn from the things she shares and suggests, and try to make myself better, stronger, a little bit at a time.
I apologize, in advance, to my family and friends. In the last few years, with the unemployment and negative shit that has bombarded me from all sides, I lost myself. But today… things have changed.
The Witch is back.
What day is today? Friday. Hopefully I’ll hear something today. Please don’t let it be another rejection. What time is it? Oh, I’ve got time, the cats are still cuddly and they are warm. It’s not like I have to *be* anywhere today anyway. I hate winter. Shit, I should get my bloodwork done. And I need wine. And kitty litter. Oh hell, I have to go to the bank. I didn’t deposit that money and the mortgage payment went through, so I’m in overdraft. That’s okay. I’ll deposit it today and I’ll be back in black. But there won’t be enough for my insurance next week. I need to sell some stuff. What can I sell? Oh, I just heard a ping. Maybe it’s an email about the job. Nope, just a rejection for a job I applied to months ago. I wasn’t expecting that one to go in my favour anyway. They never hire externally. Oh no. I still haven’t written to my aunt. What should I say? It’s been so long. “Dear Aunt Joanne, I’m so sorry I haven’t written to you in so long. I’ve been pretty down about unemployment lately and haven’t been doing much of anything but sleeping. I often lie in bed and compose letters to you, but by the time I’ve finally hauled myself out of bed, I’ve gotten distracted and then forget to actually do it….” What was that noise? Oh, just one of the cats. I haven’t fed the birds in two days. I need to fix that. I think the crows will like the freezer burnt chicken fingers. What time is it now? Is that all? I’m hungry, but I’m warm and comfy so I’m not moving. I wish Geoff was here. I could sell that four piece tea set. I haven’t written a blog post since before Christmas. I wonder why no one wanted that really warm coat I tried to sell last year. I guess I can try that one again. I sure am glad I don’t have to lick myself clean every day. I want spring to come. I miss sitting on the deck with my book, watching the birds. Why does my brain do all this? Maybe I can borrow money from my business to pay the insurance. Shit, I need to pick up a prescription too, who knows how much that will cost. Is it snowing? Crap. I hate winter. Ohhh, Pinot is being so cute. He really is my cuddle-bunny. Shit, I hope I don’t miss garbage day. I missed recycling. Again. But there was no way in hell I was going out in -35 celcius to put it out. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday. And it’s supposed to be freakishly cold. I may not leave the house. I don’t really have to. Hamlet is snoring. I wonder what I’m going to have for dinner tonight. What’s that noise? Just the neighbours, listening to music again… it’s amazing I can hear it with all the windows closed. I haven’t practiced my bagpipes this week. I sure hope I’ll be good enough for the wedding in September. I don’t want to let them down. I wonder if I’ll have my wedding this year? Probably not. I can’t believe the behaviour of some people. I never took those bags to the charity shop. Then again, I’ve not driven past it. Yes, I did, but I was tired. Right. Shocking. If I were to go into Winchester today, maybe I’ll get a fancy coffee from Timmies. Oh, I need to fill the car too. I need to sell stuff. I need a job. Why won’t anyone hire me? Oh, wait. I thought I was done my Valentine’s Day gift, but I’m not. I’m only half done. That’s okay, I can do that tonight. I’m hungry. I can wait. Another ping! Just crap, still no news. The longer I go without hearing, the more negative I know I’m going to be. This is going to be a stressful weekend. I’ll be obsessing the whole time. I hope I don’t pass out at band practice. I wonder why that drummer didn’t show up again. I’m so glad that YinYang is peeing normally again. That is worth the cost of the expensive cat food. I have an urge for steak. That was a weird dream. I don’t think the river will ever flood like that in real life, but I really don’t understand why there was a reindeer in my backyard. I wish I could get on the trampoline. That might be a nice stress relief. Bloody thing would crack in this cold. Is there anything interesting on tv tonight? No, it’s Friday. I’ve got my book. I should clean the living room. I will when I get up. I don’t want to go all the way into Winchester today. But I should. There’s that music again. I wish Geoff was here. I’ve got to bring my computer into the shop soon. It’s a pain the ass not having a proper shift key. That’ll cost money, so it can wait. I love the sound of Ophelia’s purr. I hope my mum’s ankle starts healing soon. Why are people honking and yelling out front? I don’t want to know. What time is it now? Oh. I wish I were a cat. I wonder if anyone noticed that I left a skeleton on a stick, and a skel-amingo on the front porch over Christmas. I didn’t want to leave the skel-amingo out, but he’ll have to stay now. How many cats with me now? Aw. I love them. “Dear Aunt Donna, I’m so sorry I haven’t written in so long…” Another ping! Why do these people keep sending me emails wanting me to donate my carvings. For the love of everything sacred, I want to sell the bloody things, not give them away. Why can’t I turn my brain off? I wish I could, even for five minutes. I could sell that picture. No, wait. The glass broke… Oh, I could sell the wolf one. The other one was popular. I’m not selling any of my coffins or skeletons. This is their home. Skates! I’m never going to use them again, not after 4 sprained ankles. Funny that my doctor was creeped out by how bendy my ankles are. She’s not the first one to be freaked out by that. Crap, I’m supposed to buy an ankle brace too. That can wait. Kijiji or Facebook? I’ll sell stuff on both. Sooo furry, hello my YinYing. What am I going to make for dinner for Geoff on Saturday? I have no idea… It will be too cold to BBQ. I want this job so much. I’m afraid of hoping too much. I’m so tired. I guess I’d better get up and start my day…
So the dream thing is pretty much taking on a life of its own…
Two nights ago, I had a dream about visiting a shrine to a religion that was far more akin to a cult than anything. It was a fabulous location, with about 500 steps leading up to the main shrine. It was called The Church of the Holy Shrine, and tours were available on every other hour. I arrived at the church by providence, since the directions to the place were completely inaccurate, as were the Google maps. Luckily, I recognized its magnificence. (Keep in mind, I am an athiestic/nature-pagany type person…) We all got out and stood in a very long line to take the tour. After hours, we got in and sat down to a very impressionistic video, followed by an invitation to attend a catered lunch.
I was with my parents, my fiance, and my closest friend. The nice thing was, we were able to take pictures together (on the edge of a precipice) in a very picturesque location. We looked fabulous.
At the lunch, people milled about, drinking wine (thank goodness for that) as we awaited the culinary celebration. Alas, there were more people than tables and anarchy ensued. [This is interesting, since the night before, I had dreamed of a sit down dinner at a fancy club with my parents, at which I was not allowed to sit with them. Instead, I was seated at a small coffee table with a yoga ball to sit on. I had one hell of a time to not roll under the table, and I never got any bloody food. But I digress….] Needless to say, no one ate.
Shortly thereafter, the person in charge of the religion/cult announced that the main event was about to start. We were to witness the most spectacular event in the history of religion. We were all on vessel very much like a ship, and we were violently tossed about as if we were in rough seas. As it turned out, we had been attached by a large crane, unseen by us as we were forced upon it. By the time someone stopped it, most of us had been thrown off. We were witness to the ship taking “sail” down the steps. It resembled a cardboard tank. Very odd…
When the “tank” rolled to the bottom of the steps, it hit water and exploded on impact. Most of the spectators didn’t survive. I did.
Fast forward to last night’s dream… I don’t remember a lot of the beginning. My consciousness starts at being trapped on the top of a hill that is akin to a painted desert hilltop. It’s dirt, only about 30 feet from the main land, and I’m in a car. It’s all quite hopeless, since it’s too far to jump, so, I have no choice but to force myself to slide down.
I think that’s the worst part of dream. I have no control. I can’t help where I fall, and where I land. Eventually, I do land. At the end of my own garden (which isn’t actually my garden). My legs won’t work and I have to haul myself (inch by inch) up an impossible hill.
Once I get there, I am on a familiar street (in dreams, but not reality) and I meet up with my mother. We decide to head home (?!?) and head down main street. It’s a busy street, with which I’m familiar (but never been in on real life – although I feel I know it intimately). I am barefoot, and stepping on every piece of glass and stone. My mum and I stop at a store to get shoes. None are to be had and so and I’m ushered out in the swampland. I can only travel though that for so long before I’m forced out into the streets again. This time, the sidewalks are paved with jagged stone and shards of glass. I am still barefoot, but have a mile yet to walk.
So there you have the latest weirdness. It’s getting weirder and weirder as time goes on.
Does anyone have any insight? Please share, if you do.
It’s one of those days again. I’m still unemployed, but I am lucky enough to have some contract work. So, technically I’m not completely unemployed. I am also lucky that I can do the contract work from home. I want to sleep all the time. I’m still exhausted, even though school is over, but according to my doctor, nothing is wrong with me. But now I have work to do. I’m letting other things slide again. I’m feeling guilty about that. Here is how my day has shaped up…
So tired, I don’t want to get out of bed. Oh, kitties. Yay for kitty love. Look, it’s not as late as yesterday, I can stay in bed a while longer. Oh damn, my stomach is not happy. Shit, I have to do laundry. Yay, kitties. The bathroom counter is a mess, I really need to clean it off. Okay, five more minutes in bed with the cats. Nope, my belly does not agree with that. Okay fine, I’ll get up. What is she growling about, did she catch a mouse? No, that’s a day old hairball. Nice. No, I’m not leaving the house again today, except to go next door, I can dress like a bag of crap again. Cats are fed, but I need to deal with the litter boxes. Wait, I have to deal with the rescue cat on the mud porch. She’s cute. Life will be so much easier when she comes in so I don’t have to deal with battling in and out every door. Every time I come or go. Which is often. *four battles later* The computer is set up outside and I can start work.
The software is fucking up. Now it’s frozen my computer. It seems to have taken me an hour to do ten minutes worth of work. I’m not getting any answers from questions I’ve sent out. I have so much to do, I hope that one of my answers comes through about tomorrow that would give me about two hours grace to get more work done, and get some of the house clean. She’s not answering and my computer is frozen again. Oh good, the new dog in town is howling like it’s been abandoned and in pain again. And I can hear my oldest cat howling from inside the house. Shit, I forgot to feed the neighbour’s lizard. Done. Good, my computer has rebooted. Still no answer about tomorrow. I guess I’m staying up later tonight. Less sleep. I want to work on actual work, it’s been so long since I had some and I want to impress them. One question answered, not the one I need for tomorrow. I wish the rescue would stop meowing at me through the window, I feel so guilty. I’ve gotten a lot done today, I’m quite proud of myself. I should have done more. I should have been doing laundry at the same time. I should have emptied the dishwasher. I should have cleaned the litter box. Oh look, a bat on the shed.
I’m done work for today and downloading. I have sooo many other things to do. Shit, tomorrow is recycling day and I can’t carry anything off the mud porch because I can’t bear battling the rescue. It’s stressing me out that I have to battle in and out the doors. I feel trapped inside my home, and outside it. Oh great, I forgot to eat lunch. Again. Shit, I took dinner out to thaw a bit, now it’s thawed completely and I have to try to tie it together. I still haven’t done laundry. I still haven’t emptied the dishwasher, I still haven’t cleaned the kitty litter box. I need wine.
The downloading is done, off for it’s second critique. There are no jobs I can apply for today, everything requires French. It sucks being unilingual. I guess I should start dinner. Oh good, the neighbours are screaming and swearing at their kids again. The howling dog as started across the street again. My dinner is dropping through the grill, I’ll be lucky if I have any dinner to eat tonight. The cat is meowing through the window again. Can I just scream and run away for a little while?
Dinner was salvaged, but it was tiny and very unsatisfying. Still no word on tomorrow. I guess I should just plan on not having the extra time I need. Would it be so difficult to respond to a simple fucking question? Well, most people assume I’ve got nothing but time on my hand, so it’s irrelevant, right? I need five minutes. Just to sit in the dark and enjoy my wine. Oh look, a full moon, I’ll watch that and let my mind wander. Damn. I still have to put the garbage out. And the recycling. I need to clean the spare room, and to do laundry, and to empty the dishwasher, and to clean the litter boxes.
According to my boyfriend, I’m a whirling maelstrom of doom. And he had no idea I was writing this when he said it. I like that.
An hour long commute can be interesting in my head. My brain is allowed to wander, and that can be a dangerous thing…
And there you have a mere snippet of an average commute in my world. No wonder I drink.
PS. Egg salad, but no croissant. Damn.
Let me begin by pointing out that I am the epitome of elegance and grace. *snort* If you’ve read my previous posts about some of my concussions, surely you will agree.
I had a very late start to my day today. I had a class on PHP that started at 9am, but after waking up in full blown cold-mode (the second cold I’ve had in 3 1/2 weeks that has again settled in my lungs) I decided that extra sleep was a higher priority. Besides, no one wanted to hear the hacking and sniffling joy that I was first thing this morning. My second class, however, was mandatory so I had to haul myself into Ottawa. I survived the class without too much incident. I tried to be as subtle in my disgustingness as possible.
On my way home, I discovered just how hungry I was and realized that I was not going to make it home without starting to feel faint. Luckily, there’s a Farm Boy on the way and they have really yummy (and healthy!) salads. Me eating salad in the car is never a graceful thing to witness, because I use my fingers, and they are usually rice dishes. Today, however, I do believe I reached an all new low. Thank goodness I was alone.
I opened the container and perched it in a safe spot where I could access it without taking my eyes off the road. Safety first. Today’s choice was a bit different. I got a lovely curry noodle dish. I was almost to the bottom of the container when it happened. A particularly long noodle materialized. I stuck out my tongue to safely guide the tasty, noodlely goodness into my mouth when I hit a small pothole. The (very sticky) noodle sprang up and plastered itself across my face. The surprise of that caused a sharp intake of breath, and that’s when a tiny noodle was sucked down my throat. This started a coughing fit so violent that I had tears streaming down my face (trickling along the still plastered noodle) and I was waiting for the wet thwacking sound of one my lungs being ejected from my body and onto the dashboard. After what seemed like an eternity, my eyes dried up, the noodle was removed, and the coughing eventually ceased.
I should probably make sure I have cookies in my bag from now on.
And if any members of any police forces are reading this, this never happened. Nope, nope, nope. Complete fiction, I swear.
For those that knew about it, I wrote the shittiest poem of 2015, according to readers of ChiZine.com. I’m pretty excited about that, because I was up against my published boyfriend who is damned good at writing good stuff and shitty stuff. I wrote it for school, actually, since I’m learning web design… This was my poem, y’all. 🙂
Oh The Coding We Shall Do…
Would you, should you, code responsive design?
You surely must, or some might whine.
Devices now are of many size,
and so the site must be quite wise.
Mobile users see a tiny screen,
instead of wide, longer must be seen.
Many challenges there surely be,
like making sure that all can see.
Mobile users like to zoom,
and that makes a coder’s head kaboom.
Making pages fit to scale,
will unerringly make a coder wail.
The breakpoints needed for a media query,
can surely make a coder weary.
If these challenges run amok,
any coder will yell: What. The. F$%k?
In all fairness, the esteemed Geoff Gander, otherwise known as my boyfriend, wrote a fantastic poem and it must be shared, because not everyone clicked the “read more” button. I offer you:
By Geoff Gander
I moan softly in frustrated sorrow,
Fidgeting in my hard, rough office chair
Like a lion in a cramped cage.
“Just a short meeting,” he said.
His tongue flattened and forked
As he spoke.
I wince and clutch my stomach,
Singed by a noxious brew
Of curdled milk and stale coffee.
“Sure, I’ll have another cup.
No sugar, though.
I’m cutting back.”
I pinch myself to stay awake,
Straining against the droning hum of
“What the hell did he just say?”
Glazed eyes stare back
Should’ve had another cup.
I grit my teeth,
Groaning as the Sands of Time
“Why are we still on the first agenda item?”
I fight back tears of remorse
For the life that I am losing.
I was asked something tonight.
I was asked what I dreamed of doing. No one has ever asked me that before. It was such an unexpected question that I had to think about it for a while. What have always dreamed of?
Do I want to learn foreign languages? Hell no. Living in Canada, I should know French, and that’s never going to happen. Do I want to climb Mount Everest? Never wanted to, especially now that earthquakes are an option. Do I want to become famous? Not really… as an Introvert with a capital I, the idea of fame scares the shit out of me.
Do I want to be a soapstone artist full-time? I don’t know. There are a lot of days that I look at a stone and just see a stone. It’s a lot of pressure to be inspired all the time. And to try to carve when you’re not inspired leads to sub-standard (in my humble opinion) results. Other people might think the carving is nice, I probably won’t.
What do I really want? I want to do historical research. I want someone to give me a topic, send me to a library and yell GO! I want to immerse myself in my historical geekiness. I want to find out fabulous things about days gone by and tie them together into a fabulous tale. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t mind having my name associated with something as “Historical Researcher” but I would add the word extraordinaire.
I guess that’s it. I don’t want a lot of out of life. This would be enough.