dancinbutterfly: (Spartacus - Doctore smells your bullshit)
So my service dog moved in yesterday. Absolutely no one in my family was happy for me even though Director Nick Fury aka Nick is adorable smart a cuddle slut trainable and a real responsibility. So far the reaction has been that "You cant take care of yourself. How can you take care of a dog?" Um, why is it that no one asks that of me with 100s of students a day as a sub but not a dog? Also the nature of my personality due to my illness and being an adult child of alcoholism is to take care of other living beings. Not to mention that HUGE part of his service is life control, unconditional love that I lacked, and helping me get regulated and back on a rerouton like a healthy person again. Everyone is like >:| about it except my stepdad. He told me he was proud of me, that I made my own choice and followed through and am now going to bbe responsible. He likes Nick and shows him affection(mom looks at him like I chose to get a NYC rat as a pet) and was just great. Ugh. Crying now. Anyway. Nick Fury is work but his favorite place is my bed touching some part of my body and he spins in excite!circles whenever I walk in the room.

So just...fuck my mom and my sister. The Director and I will learn together. It will work and he already gives me joy. So fuck it right?

The trainer is my safety net, thanks very much. Part of our set up is that she will take him back if needed(which we both doubt). Also if I get bad again the trainer and I have Crisis Plans in place but hey, everyone one's faith in me, its fucking heartening.

I have never be doubted so intensely and verbally in my life.
dancinbutterfly: (Gone With The Wind)
I promised a personal update so here it is. The last post Yuletide was full of frustration and despair. It was hard earned, damnit but a lot happened very fast after that that turned the tide. Most importantly, while scrolling for work I found a long term(two week) position at a middle school teaching science. I knew nothing about what it would me, less about what I was getting myself into and even less about what the actual subject would be - forensic science(FOR FRIGGIN MIDDLE SCHOOLERS - so in appropriate). However what would've been 2 weeks actually turned into 2 months. I was in the same classroom every day, getting to know these kids and more this school and ugh, I fell in love in that tentative way you do when there is an end date on a relationship. It actually reminded me a little of Paul - the way we fell hard and fast but knew it couldn't last. After all they were hiring someone for my position.

I made a difference here, a visible one too - I had two students who were getting written up regularly stop for the entire length of my time with them and an English as a Second Language student start reading on his own initiative thanks to my work. I got hugs and drawings and waterbottles designed with art.

I get along well with the staff who wanted my resume and to know when I tested for middle grades. That was all great but winter holidays fast approached and I was stressed. Luckily I had a break where I got to go see my Aunt J which was just what I needed. She is the awesomest of awesome with the most amazing guestroom in the most amazing corner of DC and we had food worth literally dying over. I have pictures. I cant upload them now but they were ridiculous. Unfortunately I had to come back and face the fact that the last day of classes was my last day as a long term. At least I was invited to be a standing sub at the school.

However, I came back today to find that no, I'm not a standing floater sub. I am not bouncing from room to room. I am in an empty classroom all my own standing in as a long-term sub again and this time I'm doing so for a Language Arts connections teacher. Connections is basically an elective and I have no idea how long she'll be gone but as it stands right now I basically have 6 classes of less than 20 students who are remedial at English - basically not good at the subject. So it is my job to just...immerse them in English reading and writing to try and bring them up to speed, with exposure basically.

Yeah. I may actually cry. Today we went through their favorite book, lists of topics they wanted to discuss, and I had them write me a story. "About anything?" "Yes anything" "Can it be a true story?" "Yes." "Can we make something up?" "Yes." "Can it be what happened over break?" "Yes." "Can it be about unicorns?" "Yes." Ugh it was great. They dont know what to do with that kind of creative freedom. Its like...alien to them. Well, get ready to have your fuzzy little brains blown kids because in Ms Rachael's class we're going to squeeze the creativity out of you whether you want it or not and you will write. You will write every frigging day so help you. You will do prompted writes and you will do free writes and then you will read and you may hate it but you will do it all and I will make you love it even if you hate it.

Also - this is a pretty big deal as far as I'm aware. To get two longterm positions back to back at the same school is fairly significant. I test for English certification for middle grades Monday.

The less great things have been the living situation. Mom is infantalizing me a little and its starting to get to me. However being back at work is helping that. Worst of all, my sister Hillary was in town. From New York City. Where she lives. She felt the need to tell us all about her life in the place I want to live like air. The jealousy was a tactile tangible thing and it hurt actually physically to be in the same space with her. Worse, we got in a fight so bad that she took the gift I got her - a tablet, yeah you read that right - and threw it back at me after having it for a week and said "fine take it back then." then she stomped out before stomping back in with the box for the tablet which she threw at me and it hit me in the shoulder. She left with said tablet and didnt apologize.

So I guess you can't win them all? I'm throwing up one of those subject a day memes later because I want to get back in the habit of posting. Please please think of something to have me talk about! I need to get back in the groove because Tumblr is a horribly lonely place. I have 320 followers but no one fucking says anything! Its miserable. I like it better here.
dancinbutterfly: (Default)
I'm home in Atlanta. Thank fuck. Lord willing and the crick don' rise, I will never have to back to Florida(please please please G-d). The funeral was...I gave the eulogy. When I wasnt giving the eulogy, I was livetweeting the funeral. I wish I was kidding but I'm not. If you're curious, search for #livefromthefuneral because oh my god it was just - ugh. No. Just no. The parts of me that are involved in grieving were not engaged.

Also my mom and sister kept telling me how I should behave. What the actual fuck. I'm one of the primary mourners. So you cry hysterically. Thats okay but my hysterical laughter isnt? It's releasing the exact fucking emotion, mine just feels better. I was, by the way, hysterically laughing in the limo - I kept finding Archer references to things [i.e. the trip to the cemetery was "so boring and forever taking"] and discussion of how much we(my mother and I) dislike the Boca Raton area. The conversation went as follows:

Mom: Welcome to Tamarac formerly-
Me: -known as the everglades. Ugh.
Mom: Well, you know, some people like it? I guess? That's a nice drainage ditch over there...
Me: If I had to choose would rather die in Somalia by a gunshot wound to the head from a warlord and be buried there than die and be buried here in south Florida.
Mom: Nope. No Rachael, I'd rather be here with my ex-husband AND my ex in-laws than in Somalia with a warlord.
*cue hysterical laughter on my part because oh my god you guys, you dont understand how much she dislikes my dad now and how badly his parents treated her - you really dont*
Me: No I think you missed part of it. I said I'd rather die there than die in south Florida. And I definitely would rather be buried there than here. I've got no active desire to go to Somalia at the moment.
Mom: Oh well. *shrug* Okay then.
Me: Well I've got nothing against Somalia itself, unlike this place, and it's got a lower chance of sinking into the ocean like Atlantis when the glaciers melt and also I've heard its fairly mineral rich. Also, it's not south Florida.
Mom: No it is not.
Me:Point of this is - don't bury me down here.
Mom: Don't bury me down here either.

Other death and dad related things - did you know my mom went to a lawyer and got it in writing that if all 4 of us were to die all at once, she was NOT to be buried next to my dad? She got in the same writing that I was to be buried the FARTHEST from him? She got both of these things written and set up because, she said, she didn't want her and I to be next to him so he could torture us for eternity but my sister can handle him which is why she'd go between him and my mom. OH THE THINGS YOU LEARN.

Burying my grandmother was kind of strange too, although I'm glad she wasn't cremated. It's not the Jewish way for one but for another, it means she gets to be next to Papa forever. That's how it should be. The burial itself though... everyone was just - again this is just not where my heart is for grief. I live on gallows humor so someone - my aunt I think - noticed that the coffin had a tag or something on it. The 3 of them(mom, aunt, d-bag uncle) started to get upset and I go "Grammy worked in retail her whole life. She'd love that it has a tag." so they dont freak out but also because I think its funny and I think its true. Like I said, that's not where my heart lives.

My heart lives in the fact that I'm doing the walk back to the car - which in Jewish tradition has a GAUNTLET OF CONDOLENCES - and this man who was in my mom/uncle/aunts youth takes my hand and goes "I'm so sorry for your loss. You gave a lovely speech. I'm ______. I went to high school with your dad. I mean your uncle." Yeah, I got into the limo to lose my shit over that because all of my family is broken but of all of our shattered and missing pieces - my father is the only piece out of my family because he treated me so badly for so long. I have never met any of his friends from high school. I couldn't call him when she died. I can't call him on father's day because it'll open the door for me to get hurt more. I hurt over him at Grammy's funeral which, to quote Hyperbole and a Half - no....she wanted the opposite of this. Like I said - woman had no saliva and spit on him in her last days and told me not to listen to or care for him. Yet there I was, crying over him being missing at HER funeral. Argh. Frustrating.

I also find myself mourning harder for Dolores every time I think of Grammy. They knew each other. They liked each other a lot. Dolores should've fucking outlived Grammy. How did she NOT outlive Grammy? When grief hits me over my grandmother, it kicks the Dolores grief back on because the "dying peacefully in her sleep with her daughter and granddaughter with her in her sleep at 82" death makes sense and is something I can cope with but "dead by her own hand at 24 leaving behind a daughter with no mother" is fucking insane and I can't deal with it. I get thrown there every damn time too. So there's THAT to deal with.

Anyway. So. She left me all her movie den and movie stuff yes? I mentioned that. Well I really lost it when I walked into the movie den and saw this room that was basically Grammy in a nutshell. I had to call for my mom because I lost it so hard. Things like that are where I cry - not funerals.

My goodbye was not the funeral. My goodbye was much earlier. We found her passport in a lockbox with her money and important papers etc so we could pay bills and such. My mom, my sister and my cousin Caty(who is a nurse and who was caring for her too) are looking through the things and I asked "Can I have her passport? I'm going to go put it under her pillow. I mean, you know, last trip." because those of you who have been around me for awhile know that I have a strong wanderlust. Theres nothing like getting a new stamp in those pages. You're somewhere else, somewhere new, you've moved and have the passport to prove that you have and more importantly - that you CAN get up and go. I wanted her to have that with her - sort of like coins on the eyes for the ferryman almost. Putting that under her pillow and saying goodbye like that was it for me. I went into the bathroom(because zero space or privacy) with my ipod and phone and just cried in the semi-dark for awhile.

I got a lot of her clothes though. Most of them werent really things I want - she was 80! most of the retro stuff was given to her kids when she moved back in '03. But I got a lot of her skirts for work when work returns and I got the sequened tops I used to play dress-up in with my sister and cousins when I was a very little girl. They fit in a sexy way now, which is hilarious but I have them and I have her movies. Her fandom. Okay, I've started crying but you guys, oh god, it was five DVD racks, plus the four shelves on 2 tv stands of DVDs. God, there were also books and a hefty John Wayne keychain.

The last day she was REALLY coherent - not the last day she was alive but the last day she still had SPARK - we watched Blood Alley with John Wayne and then she fell asleep before the end. After that she didnt wake up long enough to finish it. I have it in my bag. I keep trying to figure out when is the right time to watch it because I have to know how it ends you know? I have to. Point is, I packed her fandom up and I'm taking it into my home and adding it to my own fandom.

My family - they dont really get it. My mom tries but she doesnt have anything she's fannish about(Game of Thrones a little but not like this) - they didn't get it. They knew she loved it, they knew it was her passion but I dont think they got it, the way it infiltrates your life, the way it holds you up and keeps you breathing. Her family was with her, and so was the Duke and her musicals and I just- I can't deal with how huge a deal that was. It makes me both love fandom more and more scared of it. She & I started loving these things we love at about the same age - 12/13 - and she was still loving them fiercely when she died. It's huge and it makes me ache so much.

In the interim between that and me getting home - there were isolation issues because my mom and sister were Busy Being Mourners, and I was at a hotel, and I was out watching hockey and drinking when my family was at the Douchebag Uncle's because I'm not welcome there. That's what happens when you point out that someone's grandiosity is nearly delusional, they're overbearing, and that they're disingenuous(not in so many words but thats basically what happened at The Worst Thanksgiving Ever). So D-bag Uncle was running the show and I was not part of the cast or crew. Right after I left the D-bag Uncle apparently went BATSHIT CRAZY(no seriously, my aunt/his sister got scared of him and LEFT) and that story will come later.

Now I'm home and able to see where things are fraying. I'm dissociated for long stretches. I'm compulsive eating again. The biggest thing? I'm having A(ctivites of)D(aily)L(iving) issues. I'm having problems getting out of bed for a start which isn't a surprise. Thats standard with grief/depression. No, what's freaking me out is that I'm having shower/bath issues. I dont know why but it takes a lot to actually make myself get in the fucking shower or bath. It's a hygiene issue that is BIG and is one of the MANY reasons why I'm still in treatment and on so many meds. Basically I'm listening to the Black Parade for comfort(and Cancer on repeat when I need a good cry because jesus fuck MCR. You don't hit any less hard with time. God I love all of you so much. So fucking much) and Save Rock&Roll, reading a lot of fic and poking everyone I know online for company. It's all I've got.

There'll be another post soon I imagine. Dolores' birthday is in 3 days. My birthday is in 6 days. On that day I lose my health insurance. Woo. I imagine I'll have some some sort of post by then. Maybe I'll figure out something to do? I dont know. Even my online friends are busy on Sat the 15th. Father's Day's the 16th dont you know. So. Yeah.

Plus side, I get to go back to regular therapy now that I'm home. Thank fuck.
dancinbutterfly: (Gone With The Wind)
Today my mom called to get me the car because a friend of a friend I've been trying to meet for the 9 days I've been in S. Florida was supposed to come here so I could have someone to hang out with for a few hours. "Be so glad you're not with the family." My mother said. "Your uncle is fucking crazy. Your sister will tell you one day. It's a stress ball." Needless to say when the Friend of A Friend had to cancel(shocker) I called her to try and make contact and she was like "Well you could come here but we're not really talking about her things or touching her stuff sooooo maybe you should stay there and chill out. No, go ahead and eat on your own. Trust me you dont want to be in this mess. You can come with when we go pick up your step-dad" *click* Okay. Um. Okay.

So needless to say I spent the day alone. Then we got my stepdad and we were going to get dinner but everything was closed so...I got a drink, watched the Penguins lose in a HUMILIATING 6-1 and went home - also alone.

I know you guys are out there. I do feel your love and your presence. My fairy godmother(Have I mentioned that I have a Fairy Godmother? I do. She's the best. She gives me hope.) got in touch with me again which helped loads. It's just - things are so fucked. You're all out there but you're too ephemeral and I need a more solid presence which I'm just not getting. Note all the, um, aloneness?

*drags hand over face* To add insult to all this injury, guess who had to plunge a dirty toilet in her own hotel room because there was no one to do it? Did you guess me? If you did you were right. Listen I didn't want to be here in the first place. I was fucking banished here like a treasonous prince but I understand that there are many people on earth in far worse states of being. However, payments were made for me to be here. That payment was for a room with clean sleeping quarters and working facilities. Expecting someone to fix them if they break is not unreasonable if I am in a room I paid for. This expectation is especially true as we live in a capitalist society where I'm going to lose my fucking healthcare in 11 days when I turn 26 as the WORST BIRTHDAY GIFT EVER IMAGINED and the name of the game exchange of cash for goods and services. Cash was exchanged at this establishments so I am not out of line to I expect someone else to come and do this LITERAL shit job of a service for me when money was given.

But no. Things just keep being fuckawful. Tomorrow's the funeral then shiva. I imagine that will be fuckawful too.
dancinbutterfly: (Gone With The Wind)
My grandmother is dead. She died at about 11 right around the time the Fall Out Boy show would've been closing which actually is a good thing as it will make getting a tattoo for her easier. I'll be able to use a lyric if I want. And hey! My mom called me by 12:30 and came and picked me up from the bar where I'd be watching the Blackhawks/Kings game and drinking Cookies&Creme martinis and listening to Fall Out Boy(and thinking about how my Fairy Godmother came through again and I'd get to go in September at least :D) so she only waited like...an hour and 3 drinks to tell me.

But hey! It got my sister to initiate an ACTUAL PHYSICAL LITERAL HUG WITH ME! No, you guys dont understand. This is like that episode of the Big Bang Theory where Sheldon hugged Penny. That my sister initiated affectionate contact is a big deal. Refreshing too.

Then we stood around with her body for awhile because...I have no fucking idea. She looked like one of those ice mummys, as I've said. Dead bodies that are fresh basically look like dead bodies that are 5000 years old. Hope it helped my family. I'm still too emotionally fucked up from yesterday to be more than just like "okay and?" because guys. She's been dying since we got here a week ago.

I had my moments. You read most of them. They were hurtful and ugly as sin. Enough. My grammie was not that person. My real goodbye was something else and I'll talk about it later, probably after the funeral which will be, I dont know, Tuesday or Wednesday? Who fucking knows. I would like to note that yet again I have no idea whats going on. I'm alone but for once I'm kinda fucking relieved. I was too drunk to deal with their emotions tonight when I'm mostly just annoyed.

Anyway, she's dead. As someone said "They kicked you out and then she died." Yep. Looks that way I guess.

I dont know. Maybe I needed to leave for her to die? I dont know why it would make a difference that I wasnt there but my sister and mother were but I was the last person to leave and not come back of the people before she left so, as another internet person pointed out "Maybe you had to leave so she could leave too."

I dont know.

However I would like for you to take not that I used my Gone with the Wind icon in honor of Marilyn Esrig because I watched it for the first time with her at age 8 in her house in Birmingham Alabama. I remember that I got to stay up to the outrageously late time of after midnight to watch the whole thing with my cousin Michelle(the uncle's daughter) and that while she fell asleep half way through it, I pitched the most epic of all hissyfits when Rhett walked out the door declaring FRANKLY MY DEAR I DONT GIVE A DAMN and then DIDNT COME BACK! I was hooked way before that - on John Wayne with Hatari when I was too young to talk because OMG ELEPHANTS! ZEBRAS! MY FIRST EXPERIENCE WITH FOREIGN TRIBES ON TV WHERE THEY WERENT BELITTLED OR TREATED AS LESS THAN FOR BEING DIFFERENT THAN WHITE PEOPLE!, on Charleton Heston, Jimmy Stewart and Betty Hutton with the Greatest Show On Earth, on all things musical with The King and I and Fiddler on the Roof, on Katherine Hepburn with the African Queen - but I grew up in the buckle of the bible belt and once I saw Gone with the Wind, it was all over for me. I was in the movie hole with her and she knew it.

So I get it all, damnit. The movie den is mine. Every DVD. Every VHS. Every book. Every picture. Every poster. Every puzzle that is a scene from a film. It's all mine because when I look at the last half of my life and see fandom, I can trace it back to Grammie and know that its not just who I am, its who she is too.

Ten bucks says Uncle Douchebag tries to fight me on it. Bring it. Because now that she is gone I am ready to make the insipid motivational video intro video he made the biggest joke on the internet. I trust you guys will help me spread it to reddit, tumblr, twitter etc should the need arise.

So any road, may she rest in peace but that one step down right? Now we've just got the funeral. Then shiva. Then who the fuck knows. Packing maybe?

I am so fucked up you guys. Not necessarily about her dying. Just, you know. In general.
dancinbutterfly: (Default)
So. I woke up yesterday to my mother standing beside my bed asking if I was going to still go hang out with my aunt and if so I needed to get up now. Then she said "Also, you're going to stay with your uncle[whom some of you may remember from The Worst Thanksgiving Of All Time] or in a hotel. Decide."

I blinked at her. "Uh. Yeah I'm still going."

"And where are you staying? I need to know so I can start making arrangements while you pack so you'll be ready when you get back from your movie with Aunt Bonnie."

"Um, my uncle's?" Because you see he is a tremendous douchebag but he's still my family.

So she texts him. I check on the status and she says "He didnt get back to me." Texts twice. Then after an hour of my shoving everything I brought with me into my bags, news comes down - absolutely not, I cannot stay there. Nevermind that my Aunt is staying there. Nevermind that my cousins stayed there. Nevermind that my sister has stayed there. I, Rachael, am not allowed to stay there. So I go to a movie with Aunt Bonnie - Now You See Me (aka if TSN If Mark Were Into Magic Instead of Coding and ) - and come back, my mom has narrowed it down to 2 hotels. Best Western and LaQuinta. She books the first one LaQuinta and we get there and no, that one is a reservation but its too expensive - by ten bucks a night. So she moves me down the highway by 2 miles.

The whole time we're driving my mother's talking about how I'll be so relieved once I get there. I'll have my own space. I wont have to fight with anyone. There will be more space for anyone. I'll have more independence. Plus I can stay up as late as I want and I wont have to whisper into the phone at night. Won't that be great?

Forgetting the part that she couched being "sent" to a hotel as a threat the entire time I was here, and starting before I even left Atlanta. Her declaration and follow up punishment was penalty for my behavior - that behavior being me, existing on earth as Rachael who EVERYONE seems to find a problem. It was horrible to be banished by yet another family member. I'm at four now btw - father, sister, uncle, and now mother.

However, that isn't the biggest issue. Most of the people reading my journal have an idea of my trauma. They're aware of the fact that I have a severe mental illness and that I have PTSD that is linked to extreme traumatic transience. The reality of the situation yesterday was that my mom rousted me from my sleep with the message of "grab your shit and go." In case I'm not clear:

~She woke me up with an enactment of my worst nightmare. She told a PTSD victim who's illness is based in sudden moves in turbulent times to pack her things up, pick a place and go with no timeline on return. She even talked about how this was better than *living like we did during the hurricane* which is my PTSD point of origin.~

As I told my mom, triggers arent like spiders.They arent gone once you step on them. They're more like huge rocks you drop on a calm lake. It can take anywhere from hours to weeks for the waves the refreshed trauma to still again.

Then she came in and flopped on the bed like she wanted to stay and hang out all "ah isnt this room great? I didnt scream at her or call her a piece of shit or a hateful cuntface or any of the things I wanted to do like, scream at her or slap her across the face. I'm still angry. I can function calmly and rationally but oh god I am so angry.

So thats the state of my union. I'm currently staying in a very comfortable but empty hotel room. Waiting for my grandmother's body to catch up with her spirit and let loose this mortal coil. Alone. Because I was a bad girl. Not a woman 13 days away from her 26th birthday who chose to do it that way - but because I was a bad girl and I needed to be punished and since I lack a car, money, or any agency over my own life - I was put in a higher class version of the corner. For my friends in Hockey fandom - it's a bit like Two Minutes For Being Matt Cooke - only in this instance its Banished From Most Family Moments For Being Rachael.

Fall Out Boy is probably just getting rolling right now and I'm at a sports bar watching hockey. Say it with me class! Alone.

Honestly the only things that are stopping me from giving into this feeling: having to explain it to her as a my therapist[omg such a hassle], knowing I'd have to clean up after whatever bad choice I made because I hate cleaning, refusal to do anything that could risk me not being in perfect condition for ComicCon in July and TV: I need to see if Lucrezia and Cesare get their shit together on Borgias, Teen Wolf is returning and one day I'll get to watch that, and in the fall there will be Agents of SHEILD, American Horror Story, and Archer.

Wow. I have a sad empty lonely fucking life. Look at that. The reasons I have not to give into this despair are TV, dislike of cleaning, dislike of explaining my misbehavior to authority figures and ComicCon. Just when I thought I couldn't feel more alone.
dancinbutterfly: (Farscape - Save Me -John)
I got a lovely comment today checking on me to see how I am. At which point I realized I havent given you a status update.

How I am is fucking horrific and what's up is that my grandmother is dying. Not she's got cancer and is dying. Not oh now she's at stage 4 and is dying.

No, we're at hospice comes every day, we change her and try to help keep her lips and mouth dry, hold her hand, and literally hoping for her to die because she's ready to go and we're ready for her to go but we come from sturdy stock that will never quit and is going to keep going until ever wears out.

I flew in on Saturday night and she was awake enough to talk. Sunday was a decent day and we got to talk/see her and my cousins were there too. Monday we had last-words sort of things where I was told 1)that its so good that I have substitute teaching, a REAL job, because she was worried about me with trying to make a living "with the writing" 2) that I look so great and if I could just lose 10lbs I would be perfect 3)that she is terrified for me that I should end up 700lbs and have to get carted out of my house 4)that I am not to help my father even if he's dying in the street[the woman had no saliva but spit at my father with one of her dying acts] because he isnt worth the ground he walks on and I'm not to talk to him let alone take care of him when he's old and that 5)I'm too smart, so much smarter than most people and people hate that 6)so I have to act average and only show my smarts later so I can get by in the world.

That did make me feel like GUTTING myself or any anything. Not like she hit on all of the things that I hurt me the most. Not like my weight and my complete lack of faith in my ability to pursue writing and my conflicted father issues and feeling like a fucking freak ALL the time because I know more than most people in a given room. As if I didnt know I have to act average in order to interact with the world - as if the last week of failing miserably at: impulse control, modesty, having an instinct on when a conversation is over, keeping my mouth shut, making small talk, being a general disaster hasnt been evidenced enough.

If I werent aware before my grandmothers last coherent words, my sister and mother have both made it DAMN fucking clear how badly i'm doing here how wrong I am to be here, how everything I do is a mistake, how I'm in the way, not part of this, shouldnt be here. Granted the rest of my cousins came. They all were here and had their time (or if they didnt got talked about for not). I'm here because she was my favorite. I'm here because fuck all of them I was her favorite.

The thing about this is - I was SPECIFICALLY TOLD that I would be getting no emotional support from my mom when I came down here. Fine. I dont need it, I said. [personal profile] knight_tracer stocked me up with podfics that have been really amazing - so good for my nerves and my soul. She's a sweetie that way. I have my therapist(true, I had a session on monday) and theres a couple other people who have tried but foolishly I thought that my internet friends would be more of a support than than they are.

God, I am so STUPID. People WARNED ME. They WARNED me for a DECADE that the friends you meet online arent your friends until you get to know them in real life(I'm looking at you Hardwire Harlots)but I didnt listen. I thought that they were even if you never saw their faces or heard their voices. I thought that after fifteen years online I'd made REAL connections you know?

Only the longer this drags on - and oh god it drags and drags - I'm finding thats not true. I'm just alone. The names I reach out to are empty. How stupid can I possibly be?

So now, not only am I under a barrage of constant verbal attacks from my sister that have me scrambling to change everything I can about myself in a desperate bid not to get attacked again. Please, god please, just let me have gotten it right this time. I just want to fix it so I stop getting attacked. Thats all. I want to just breathe. I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry.

Then I'm surrounded by sadness and tension to tight you could turn it into a cord and garrot someone with it and am realizing that I'm alone. I am all alone. I mean, intellectually, I knew that I was alone? I had just sort of deluded myself into thinking that these words on a screen were attached to people who cared on the other side.

However, as much as the sexual assault made me realize how kind and supportive everyone on here is, this current has made me realize how deeply alone I am. It's pointless to try and get with the people I consider my closest friends. They're in other corners of the earth. If they're not they busy with their husbands/wives/children, they have prearranged activities or better friends and plans they made before I ever entered the picture. This isnt a new thing. I've never been first for anyone and I dont know why that would change now. I've pretty much never been anyone's best friend(i've had lots of people as MY best friend but I was never THEIRS) and thats most keenly noticed since Kaci and I's friendship disintergrated. I have people who try now, here on LJ and on Twitter too but...I dont have anyone I feel like I can turn to and say "Help me." Not with this. Not with the request of being with me when things are hard and I cant be funny or clever or entertaining. I don't have friends for a reason I figure. Being with me isnt something most people want. Most of the time of I force myself to be okay with it.

After a week watching a woman I love die by centimeters, I'm not strong enough to pretend it's not one of the main reasons I'm up typing and crying at 3:55am.

Oh. Wait. In a final bit of hilarious fate: I DONT GET TO SEE FALL OUT BOY TOMORROW! I've only been waiting for 5 years for this and now, boom, chance gone. Isn't that silly? My grandma is dying but I'm still let down. Plus, the part of me that gets paid less than 20K a year is angry about $50 down the drain. I was going to get a tour hoodie. I was going to finally have seen all the bandom bands and know that I'd survived to see them all play - Panic, MCR and FOB.

I waited for years for them to come back and they did, just in time for my world to fall apart again. I'm pretty sure the arena show inAtlanta is already sold out so, you know maybe in another 5 years when I'm 30 I'll get to see them. I really hope I'll be alive then. I dont mean that in a self-destructive way its just...with the way things keep going I dont hope for much anymore you know? The tenth person in my graduating class of 250 died this week so I'm just saying. I used to wish for things like a family - someone to love, kids, friends, a career I liked, living somewhere I didnt hate. Now, the way things are going, getting to live to see 30 and maybe Fall Out Boy with like...one friend who is really there for me? Thats the new dream.
dancinbutterfly: (Clone High -Life gives you Lemons)
- I can has a job! I'm officially a substitute teachers. Mostly I tell 11-13 olds to be quiet, sit down, dont touch that, no you may not go to the bathroom, no i dont care what your teacher normally does because this is what we're doing today, no you may not work in groups, and if you're going to talk to me you can look me in the eye because thats what civilized people do when they have a verbal discourse. Then I get to move them to different seats around the room, write their names down, send them to different teachers or call an administrator to come "deal with them."

However, there are shining moments when I get to teach, though its not always related to the subject matter. I got to stop a a kid in a social studies class who told someone they were worthless and should kill themselves and tell them and the rest of the class why they should never, EVER, talk like that using my life and my loss as an example. In a math class, after overhearing a small argument, I broke it up then I explained why calling a guy a "girl" to insult him along with any other feminine based insult is actually degrading to women and lowering both them as men and as human beings and showing the girls that yes, this is a bigger problem than it looks like. That same class I also explained what a parallelogram is and how its different from a rhombus to a problem case who was giving me tzurus ten minutes before but is sitting with me at the desk taking rapt notes now because I have answers in a different way of describing it than his math teacher did.

And sometimes, like today, you have a horrible day where the kids curse and storm out and cuss at each other and actually cheer when you leave but then, in your last period - there's a tiny moment of light. They're doing a packet on Leonardo da Vinci and when they're done they ask "well now what do we do?" Read? Draw? Talk very quietly amongst yourselves? Or we could talk about da Vinci and how he wasnt just an artist but also a crazy genius who designed things a crazy death scythe chariot, a machine gun, and robots. Most of the class chose to do the first three but I had one boy come from the VERY back of the class, with his chair, set it down in front of me and say "Tell me more about Da Vinci." And in the 20 minutes left in class I covered with this kid - iconographic art and the transition to more realistic renaissance portraiture and scenes(ala the last supper), the advent of the printing press, medieval medicine, the limited understanding of the human body, the value of the vitruvian man, the working helicopter models da Vinci came up with, and how on top of being a genius, this was the point in history when people were starting to realize that the world around them was bigger than just their homes and neighbors. He sat there, when he could've been in the back with his friends chatting, with me talking about these historical things, and at the end of the class wanted to know more to the point that I got to direct him to the library. That one kid made my whole freaking day worth getting up for. Well that and the money, obvs. :P

-Everybody holding up okay after MikeyWaygate2013? Man. That could've been avoided if he had a sassy gay friend. Seriously Mikey - what what what are you doing? Look at your life, look at your choices. Sucks that its happening because the two of them were always so....lovely when I saw them together. I'm not judging because DBT teaches no judgement and I'm trying to practice that. I still love this band a stupid degree. Doesnt affect the way I look at them as artists although I'm less physically attracted to Mikey now. Mostly, I feel markedly bad for Alicia because she was nothing but kind and friendly to me every time we met. If she was anything near as nice to her friends as she was to a strange little fangirl like me, then she definitely doesnt deserve this kind of hurt. So for that, I has a sad :(

-My mom is far less verbally abusive and is almost back to normal. Like she was possessed - Supernatural style - and Sam and Dean snuck in and exorcised her without me noticing. YAY! Avoiding her is really helping but she's more relaxed now I've got a job. My dad is still mindfucking her over the divorce stuff (even though they signed the papers 10 years ago - they're still in court. Yeah.) That should be getting closer to the end soon. The trial is next month. My sister is currently in town. BEHOLD! A PICTURE OF US! I am the heavy set one in stripes. She is the beautiful one. Seriously. Very glad she's here but there's now 3 of us in 2 bedrooms. *facepalm* this apartment isnt built for that.
picture )

-Mental health: waxes and wanes. The very best way to get ahold of me is to chat with me via gchat, aim, yim etc because when I get low, I dont post here on LJ or DW for weeks because of, well, the depression. Then I stick to tumblr where I reblog pictures of Teen Wolf, Avengers, and OUAT characters sometimes with snarky commentary. I'm on a new cocktail and it seems to be working for now though.

-Addicted to Hollyoaks. Like badly. Like - I went back to 2011 and have been watching the full half hour eps in order. Send help?

-For later! I wrote since last we spoke. 2 for The Hour during Yuletide, and at least 3 for Teen Wolf that isn't up here but I'll do an official posty thing for them when its not almost 5am. Also there are TMI sex things I want to blog/talk to you guys about they're long and thinky and TMI so again, not for 5am. This whole area is for next post.

-Things are a hot mess all over - but with my new job, my old crazy, my sister in the house, MikeyWaygate2013, and all the other craziness that is going on in my world (and there's more but its too day-to-day to detail), I signed up for the words and deeds meme and thats my thread. I could use some of this for a push through to the other side to Tuesday (when my sister will have left for Colorado, I dont know why she's going, and my mom will have left for Florida and the trial and will not be getting her negative scary on me).

-Lastly, you guys Warm Bodies comes out Friday in the US. It's a zom-rom-com. Oh yeah. Zombie romantic comedy. If you can go see it, please do. We want this one to do well so it will encourage the studios to make smarter more interesting movies rather than the same crap over and over. Plus, John Malkovich is in it, and along with Nicholas Hoult(the kid from About A Boy who grew up, got hot, and then was on Skins) and Rob Cordry as zombies yes.
dancinbutterfly: (Farscape - Save Me -John)
Yeah, I rolled out this icon because it really was THAT BAD.

I just got home from what was undisputedly the most horrific thanksgiving week of my entire fucking life. Dont believe me? Click the cut. Seriously. I dare you )</>
dancinbutterfly: (Farscape - Save Me -John)
Yeah, I rolled out this icon because it really was THAT BAD.

I just got home from what was undisputedly the most horrific thanksgiving week of my entire fucking life. Dont believe me? Click the cut. Seriously. I dare you )</>
dancinbutterfly: (Hunger Games - Salute)
Sometimes I think about Dolores and am just...stunned she's not in the world anymore. It's been just over 5 months. I just keep having these times when I'm blindsided by how deeply I'm effected. It knocks the wind out of me - what she did, how angry I am, how heartbroken, how bereft. I look at my family and wonder if they're okay - if they're feeling like I am, like something's been hollowed out and scraped away. I dont know. It's hard to tell to be frank. My mom doesnt talk much about her and my bio sister and I talk so rarely I cant even begin to guess.

I think part of it is the fact that My Chemical Romance's new tracks were leaked. Boy Divison and Tomorrow's Money has NOTHING to do with her but those boys, that band - they remind me that I can feel, that I DO feel. Releasing something new reminds me that they exist, that they're real and solid and for some reason it brings into shocking contrast that Dolores DOESNT anymore. I love My Chemical Romance even more for this. I really do.

I ache. I cry. But goddamnit I can feel this pain. A year ago, when I was in the hospital - I was so sick that I COULDNT feel. Now I can and I'm so grateful for that. I can't really articulate how much.
dancinbutterfly: (Avengers-Avengers-Tasha and Clint)
My god there is nothing more disturbing than a 2am phone call on the line which my family only calls in an emergency. Got out of bed and checked in w/mom who was on the phone with sister. Everything is okay but ugh. Do not want.
dancinbutterfly: (Avengers-Avengers-Tasha and Clint)
My god there is nothing more disturbing than a 2am phone call on the line which my family only calls in an emergency. Got out of bed and checked in w/mom who was on the phone with sister. Everything is okay but ugh. Do not want.
dancinbutterfly: (Captain America -  Steve behind the shie)
I left Skyland at a little before 11:30am and walked to the Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority(MARTA) bus stop. I was told by Marlee(my counselor at the facility where I get psychiatric treatment for all my new friends *waves* hi new friends) I wanted to go home but since the car wreck my transportation is limited. So she was like "go to the bus stop 200 feet away and they'll take you right to Lindburg Station." From Lindburg it is literally a straight shot to my station. No big right?

Well I ended up waiting at the bus stop for an hour and a half. When the bus finally arrived, it turned out to be the wrong one. I climbed aboard like the fucking lemming that I am and ended up at Avondale station - which is only 2 stations away from being as far as possible from where I need to be. When I finally got to my station, I asked multiple employees which bus I needed to get on and still ended up on the wrong one.

All told, it's been four and a half hours on public transportation buses and trains and station benches. I'm going to say that again, so that I can be clear. FOUR AND A HALF HOURS. at 3hr45/4hr I started to cry and couldnt stop. Right there on the bus. I just sat there quietly crying for twenty minutes.

Then I called Marlee cried some more like a child with a broken limb and told her how much I hate her for about ten minutes. She was sympathetic, very understanding about me hating her and was like and she was like "Call your mom and have her come get you" to which I said "I WOULD RATHER RIDE MARTA ANOTHER TWO HOURS" because with the way things have been between us lately, quote Lucretia Batiatus, I would rather fuck an eel than have her rescue me from another crisis. Marlee's next suggestion was "Get off somewhere for awhile then. Rest. Try again after you calm down."

I protested because crying and angry but I have gone through all my skills. I have nothing left. So when the bus came to a stop with a Dunkin' Donuts, I jumped ship so thats where I am. Not home yet, still stranded and at some point - when my phone and computer are charged more - I have to get back on a MARTA bus.

So, you know how I said "I've never wanted to die"? Guess what? 4 hours on public transit; thats what it takes to make me want to actually die. We're not 4hrs of public transit in a "hey, I am hanging out in public transit" because I've done that before. I used to do it all the time in London, where I wanted to see the city or just feel the rush of the Tube. No, I'm talking about 4.5 hours of public transit in a I need to get there but I can't way.

At one point I actually had the thought Oh my god. This is Hell. This is actually Hell. This is what Hell is like. You want to get home and you cant.You're just trapped with uncomfortable seats and broken electronics, no battery and a driver who wont take the turns you KNOW would get you home, over and over. Forever. I'm a Jew. I dont actually believe Hell exists. In that moment though, I was 100% sure. It was like the Hotel California of buses.

The funny thing is that I may actually have an essay in this experience. This is good for the writer me. The human me just wants to roll over and expose my neck so that my surrender will make MARTA beast go easy on me next time.

So. I am going to sit here with my donut and my milk and my laptop. On the upside, Dunkin' Donuts is giving away Captain America cups if you do a survey. They dont care that I'm a girl who likes the Avengers. There was no gender labeling for the cups at Dunkin' Donuts. They were just cups. Just sayin'. It is the only perk I've seen this whole hellish trip. Anyway,I'll be sitting here, pretending I never ever have to get back on a MARTA bus, even though I do.

Update: Got home at 11:17pm. Grand total - 11hours and 47 minutes, 5 stations, 4 buses, 2 trains, 3 walks from place to place looking for the right bus station, 4 waits of between 20-90 minutes at a bus or train stop, and 1 ride in the back of a police squad car. YEAH. That was my day. I'm staying home tomorrow otherwise I will DESTROY EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING I COME INTO CONTACT WITH.
dancinbutterfly: (Captain America -  Steve behind the shie)
I left Skyland at a little before 11:30am and walked to the Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority(MARTA) bus stop. I was told by Marlee(my counselor at the facility where I get psychiatric treatment for all my new friends *waves* hi new friends) I wanted to go home but since the car wreck my transportation is limited. So she was like "go to the bus stop 200 feet away and they'll take you right to Lindburg Station." From Lindburg it is literally a straight shot to my station. No big right?

Well I ended up waiting at the bus stop for an hour and a half. When the bus finally arrived, it turned out to be the wrong one. I climbed aboard like the fucking lemming that I am and ended up at Avondale station - which is only 2 stations away from being as far as possible from where I need to be. When I finally got to my station, I asked multiple employees which bus I needed to get on and still ended up on the wrong one.

All told, it's been four and a half hours on public transportation buses and trains and station benches. I'm going to say that again, so that I can be clear. FOUR AND A HALF HOURS. at 3hr45/4hr I started to cry and couldnt stop. Right there on the bus. I just sat there quietly crying for twenty minutes.

Then I called Marlee cried some more like a child with a broken limb and told her how much I hate her for about ten minutes. She was sympathetic, very understanding about me hating her and was like and she was like "Call your mom and have her come get you" to which I said "I WOULD RATHER RIDE MARTA ANOTHER TWO HOURS" because with the way things have been between us lately, quote Lucretia Batiatus, I would rather fuck an eel than have her rescue me from another crisis. Marlee's next suggestion was "Get off somewhere for awhile then. Rest. Try again after you calm down."

I protested because crying and angry but I have gone through all my skills. I have nothing left. So when the bus came to a stop with a Dunkin' Donuts, I jumped ship so thats where I am. Not home yet, still stranded and at some point - when my phone and computer are charged more - I have to get back on a MARTA bus.

So, you know how I said "I've never wanted to die"? Guess what? 4 hours on public transit; thats what it takes to make me want to actually die. We're not 4hrs of public transit in a "hey, I am hanging out in public transit" because I've done that before. I used to do it all the time in London, where I wanted to see the city or just feel the rush of the Tube. No, I'm talking about 4.5 hours of public transit in a I need to get there but I can't way.

At one point I actually had the thought Oh my god. This is Hell. This is actually Hell. This is what Hell is like. You want to get home and you cant.You're just trapped with uncomfortable seats and broken electronics, no battery and a driver who wont take the turns you KNOW would get you home, over and over. Forever. I'm a Jew. I dont actually believe Hell exists. In that moment though, I was 100% sure. It was like the Hotel California of buses.

The funny thing is that I may actually have an essay in this experience. This is good for the writer me. The human me just wants to roll over and expose my neck so that my surrender will make MARTA beast go easy on me next time.

So. I am going to sit here with my donut and my milk and my laptop. On the upside, Dunkin' Donuts is giving away Captain America cups if you do a survey. They dont care that I'm a girl who likes the Avengers. There was no gender labeling for the cups at Dunkin' Donuts. They were just cups. Just sayin'. It is the only perk I've seen this whole hellish trip. Anyway,I'll be sitting here, pretending I never ever have to get back on a MARTA bus, even though I do.

Update: Got home at 11:17pm. Grand total - 11hours and 47 minutes, 5 stations, 4 buses, 2 trains, 3 walks from place to place looking for the right bus station, 4 waits of between 20-90 minutes at a bus or train stop, and 1 ride in the back of a police squad car. YEAH. That was my day. I'm staying home tomorrow otherwise I will DESTROY EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING I COME INTO CONTACT WITH.
dancinbutterfly: (Gone With The Wind)
So, lots going on! Yesterday Mom and I dropped the car off at our auto body place. Yes, so many wrecks that we have a PLACE. Since that's the case they know us and they're the cheapest and we're repeaters so they dont screw us because they want us to keep coming back. We havent got an estimate yet but its where we went last time and its a smaller fix so it should be less knock wood.

I'm still working my desk job at the treatment center. I make less than 100 bucks a week but that should help. In addition, my mom's started giving me a weekly allowance. Yes that makes me feel like a teenager. Do I care? NO. Money is money and it all goes to me getting my feet under me.

On the psychiatric and medically - I've lost 18 lbs thanks to portion control and hydration(64oz+ of water a day. Yeah, I dare you to get used to that. First month its like taking another medicine)! I'm getting back to exercising a little at a time so thats helping too. My anxiety level is still VERY high for no reason which physically and emotionally exhausting but I'm talking to my doctor about that on Friday but the skills I'm learning in DBT are finally starting to CLICK in my brain. Does that mean the crazy and the depression have eased up? No. What it means is? I've got coping skills - d. The paintings still amazing, doing ceramics at treatment is still mega satisfying and on top of that I've started drawing a lot when in crisis situations. Also I've been making beaded jewelry. It's like my artistic side was in hibernation for fifteen years and its finally woken up. I'm also spending a lot of time outside with my friend from treatment J, watching Spartacus and generally having a causal good time which falls under the treatment umbrella because I'm isolating less and working on socializing.

On the writing side - the Victor!Frank/Victor!Gerard, Stylist!Pete/Tribute!Patrick Hunger Games AU broke 30,000 words yesterday afternoon. It's the first time I've done different POVs in one story since Prisonverse and I forgot how much I liked it. 3 weeks until [livejournal.com profile] bandombigbang rough drafts are due and as god is my witness? I'm going to have a rough draft which I would bet dollars to donuts will be at least another 20,000 MINIMUM not counting all the scenes I have to leave out to get first draft in on time. It's going to be full of (Scene where ____ happens) so that I can get it turned in but this will happen. See this *points at face* this is my determination face. It's going to get done you guys. As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never miss a [livejournal.com profile] bandombigbang! I've even used my Gone with the Wind icon to make the point and everything.

Anyway, things arent perfect. However, with the Giving House covering the car and the knowledge that I can talk to my doctor about the physical anxiety and the art to take the place of eating my feelings and the fic to take the rest of my attention. Progress though!
dancinbutterfly: (Gone With The Wind)
So, lots going on! Yesterday Mom and I dropped the car off at our auto body place. Yes, so many wrecks that we have a PLACE. Since that's the case they know us and they're the cheapest and we're repeaters so they dont screw us because they want us to keep coming back. We havent got an estimate yet but its where we went last time and its a smaller fix so it should be less knock wood.

I'm still working my desk job at the treatment center. I make less than 100 bucks a week but that should help. In addition, my mom's started giving me a weekly allowance. Yes that makes me feel like a teenager. Do I care? NO. Money is money and it all goes to me getting my feet under me.

On the psychiatric and medically - I've lost 18 lbs thanks to portion control and hydration(64oz+ of water a day. Yeah, I dare you to get used to that. First month its like taking another medicine)! I'm getting back to exercising a little at a time so thats helping too. My anxiety level is still VERY high for no reason which physically and emotionally exhausting but I'm talking to my doctor about that on Friday but the skills I'm learning in DBT are finally starting to CLICK in my brain. Does that mean the crazy and the depression have eased up? No. What it means is? I've got coping skills - d. The paintings still amazing, doing ceramics at treatment is still mega satisfying and on top of that I've started drawing a lot when in crisis situations. Also I've been making beaded jewelry. It's like my artistic side was in hibernation for fifteen years and its finally woken up. I'm also spending a lot of time outside with my friend from treatment J, watching Spartacus and generally having a causal good time which falls under the treatment umbrella because I'm isolating less and working on socializing.

On the writing side - the Victor!Frank/Victor!Gerard, Stylist!Pete/Tribute!Patrick Hunger Games AU broke 30,000 words yesterday afternoon. It's the first time I've done different POVs in one story since Prisonverse and I forgot how much I liked it. 3 weeks until [livejournal.com profile] bandombigbang rough drafts are due and as god is my witness? I'm going to have a rough draft which I would bet dollars to donuts will be at least another 20,000 MINIMUM not counting all the scenes I have to leave out to get first draft in on time. It's going to be full of (Scene where ____ happens) so that I can get it turned in but this will happen. See this *points at face* this is my determination face. It's going to get done you guys. As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never miss a [livejournal.com profile] bandombigbang! I've even used my Gone with the Wind icon to make the point and everything.

Anyway, things arent perfect. However, with the Giving House covering the car and the knowledge that I can talk to my doctor about the physical anxiety and the art to take the place of eating my feelings and the fic to take the rest of my attention. Progress though!
dancinbutterfly: (Spartacus - Agron/Nasir)
There's some stuff going on - a lot of them good! YAY! Even the stuff that isnt so good is coupled with some good stuff. So, I'm going to talk about it all.

~So, tonight is the first night of Passover. YAY! Passover for me is like Christmas is for some Christians. It is my all time favorite holiday. For those of you have been on my Flist for years? You know that I go off the chain on this holiday. GUESTS! DINNERS! SINGING! PICTURES! Expect recaps, although this year will be much smaller, some of my friends from Skyland are coming on the 2nd night! Maybe [livejournal.com profile] ofangoriousone will come? Idk. But yay! Passover. That said, I'm avoiding going home because the prep is giving me anxiety. Thats the mental illness, which sucks. Still, I'll take that anxiety to enjoy my holiday. YAY!

~My mom went out of town over the week. She was gone until last night and the first three days she was gone? It was not great. But I spent a lot of time painting (I've started painting guys. It's kinda great. Acrylic paints=my new favorite thing) and that was both artistically satisfying and really helpful for my anxiety.

~I'm working more hours so if the car clusterfuck with the fines doesnt get resolved, I'll still get to get through it a little bit quicker than I thought. So that's something thank god.

~ Does anyone else watch South Park? Because WHAT THE FUCK! No seriously, what the actual fuck. )

~Lastly, yall, we need to have a talk about Spartacus: Vengeance. Did anyone else watch it? Because another thing I did this week was mainline it like it was heroin. Holy crap. I miss Andy Whitfield God rest him but this season? By far my favorite. It was like...okay. At some point, this show realized that Blood and Sand(s1) and Gods of the Arena(S2 and the prequel) were kinda rapey and that was not good. That didnt go away this season, probably never will, but this season was like "Hey, lets write a whole bunch of women who kick ass in various ways and give/take their own agency in whatever way works best for them." It was magnificent. I have no idea what happened in the writers room, because the show is still problematic in a LOT of ways but it went from an 8 on the feminism problematic scale to more like a 3 because it looked at its women and said "Hey, lets give them agency or deal with their PTSD/trauma/problems in ways that are respectful and the sort of choices that real women would make." Ugh, you guys it was glorious. Not only that? IT PASSED THE FREAKING BECHDEL TEST MOST EPS. WHAT EVEN.

Lets not even talk about Lucy Lawless: The Flawless. She was amazing the end. All the Romans were creeptastic awesome.

And then? There was the gay love story. *HANDS* You guys. There is exactly one "they meet and then they fall in love" love story this season and its between one of Spartacus' lieutenant's Agron and one of the freed male slaves Nasir. It's slow build. It begins in a friendship. It's romantic. It's done in a way that isnt self-congradulatory or blatant. Everyone in their sphere are just like "oh, hey, these two guys, who are our friends, are falling in love. That's nice." It's just a part of the universe, no attention is drawn to it except within the building of their relationship. It just is. Just like Naevia and Crixus just are. Just like every other heterosexual relationship just is. Ultraviolent, ultragraphic trashy show: doing gay love right. Oh, and did I mention how they are super hot for each other? They are. *points at icon* They are super hot, in general and for each other and occasionally they make out against walls. So yeah. If you're bored, check it out. I'm falling down the kink meme hole. Expect trashy, roman-flavored porn in this space in the future *facepalm*

~I still have to finish the Hunger Games/Bandom fusion to work on and there is a LOT of it. No, a lot. I'm at 27K and just got them down to the gym for day 1 of training(if you know the book, you know exactly where that is). So yeah, I do not need a new ship right now, especially not one with canon boykissing to fuel the fire of obsession. PLEASE SEND HELP! HELP!!
dancinbutterfly: (Spartacus - Agron/Nasir)
There's some stuff going on - a lot of them good! YAY! Even the stuff that isnt so good is coupled with some good stuff. So, I'm going to talk about it all.

~So, tonight is the first night of Passover. YAY! Passover for me is like Christmas is for some Christians. It is my all time favorite holiday. For those of you have been on my Flist for years? You know that I go off the chain on this holiday. GUESTS! DINNERS! SINGING! PICTURES! Expect recaps, although this year will be much smaller, some of my friends from Skyland are coming on the 2nd night! Maybe [livejournal.com profile] ofangoriousone will come? Idk. But yay! Passover. That said, I'm avoiding going home because the prep is giving me anxiety. Thats the mental illness, which sucks. Still, I'll take that anxiety to enjoy my holiday. YAY!

~My mom went out of town over the week. She was gone until last night and the first three days she was gone? It was not great. But I spent a lot of time painting (I've started painting guys. It's kinda great. Acrylic paints=my new favorite thing) and that was both artistically satisfying and really helpful for my anxiety.

~I'm working more hours so if the car clusterfuck with the fines doesnt get resolved, I'll still get to get through it a little bit quicker than I thought. So that's something thank god.

~ Does anyone else watch South Park? Because WHAT THE FUCK! No seriously, what the actual fuck. )

~Lastly, yall, we need to have a talk about Spartacus: Vengeance. Did anyone else watch it? Because another thing I did this week was mainline it like it was heroin. Holy crap. I miss Andy Whitfield God rest him but this season? By far my favorite. It was like...okay. At some point, this show realized that Blood and Sand(s1) and Gods of the Arena(S2 and the prequel) were kinda rapey and that was not good. That didnt go away this season, probably never will, but this season was like "Hey, lets write a whole bunch of women who kick ass in various ways and give/take their own agency in whatever way works best for them." It was magnificent. I have no idea what happened in the writers room, because the show is still problematic in a LOT of ways but it went from an 8 on the feminism problematic scale to more like a 3 because it looked at its women and said "Hey, lets give them agency or deal with their PTSD/trauma/problems in ways that are respectful and the sort of choices that real women would make." Ugh, you guys it was glorious. Not only that? IT PASSED THE FREAKING BECHDEL TEST MOST EPS. WHAT EVEN.

Lets not even talk about Lucy Lawless: The Flawless. She was amazing the end. All the Romans were creeptastic awesome.

And then? There was the gay love story. *HANDS* You guys. There is exactly one "they meet and then they fall in love" love story this season and its between one of Spartacus' lieutenant's Agron and one of the freed male slaves Nasir. It's slow build. It begins in a friendship. It's romantic. It's done in a way that isnt self-congradulatory or blatant. Everyone in their sphere are just like "oh, hey, these two guys, who are our friends, are falling in love. That's nice." It's just a part of the universe, no attention is drawn to it except within the building of their relationship. It just is. Just like Naevia and Crixus just are. Just like every other heterosexual relationship just is. Ultraviolent, ultragraphic trashy show: doing gay love right. Oh, and did I mention how they are super hot for each other? They are. *points at icon* They are super hot, in general and for each other and occasionally they make out against walls. So yeah. If you're bored, check it out. I'm falling down the kink meme hole. Expect trashy, roman-flavored porn in this space in the future *facepalm*

~I still have to finish the Hunger Games/Bandom fusion to work on and there is a LOT of it. No, a lot. I'm at 27K and just got them down to the gym for day 1 of training(if you know the book, you know exactly where that is). So yeah, I do not need a new ship right now, especially not one with canon boykissing to fuel the fire of obsession. PLEASE SEND HELP! HELP!!
dancinbutterfly: (Farscape - Save Me -John)
Living at home is KILLING me. I love my mom but when we fight I can't even fight back. This morning was the 1st time "force you out" was used in a fight. Tho is it a fight if only 1 person talks? Im afraid to fight back lately. She says I dont do enough round the house & wont unpack. This is true. I dont bother with much of anything besides going to work and whatever around the house chore she leaves me. She was talking about moving since before I moved in here. How can she possibly expect me to get invested? I've lived basically alone or with people who hated me for the last 6 years. How can she expect me to do anything besides exactly what I want to, when I want to?

The other shoe WILL drop. It's just a question of when, especially since she finally dropped the "dont make me kick you out bomb" tonight. Realistically, if I toe the line and am a Good Girl, I've got a one to two years for this to fall to shit like everything else in my life has in the last decade. Taking all my shit out of storage, moving a bunch of furniture/clothes/boxes, trying for a real life here is beyond stupid. Atlanta isn't the endgame. Living with my mother CERTAINLY isnt. This is a layover in a decent, medium-sized city that is better than Tallahassee but is still Not Where I Want To Be. So who cares?

Mom does and as I dont talk to Dad and WE ARE IN THE WORST GODDAMN RECESSION SINCE THE GREAT DEPRESSION I cant fight. Seriously, I jsut sit there. Silent. I've got nowhere to go and no future so I cant blow my free meal when I make ~100 dollars a week. I have to toe this line that would be reasonable if I believed in it for one fucking second.

But I don't. I physically CANNOT because all the above isn'teven touching the depression stuff. Lets start with this: APATHY COMES WITH THE TERRITORY. JESUS WOMAN. If wellness goes from A-Z with Z=perfect mental health, A=you're not allowed shoelaces and ability to function happening only at the halfway point of an N or above, I was a C the summer of hell, I was an E when I got home from Europe, now I'm an H. Dont exect a Q lady. It's not happening. I cannot function. I cant MAKE MYSELF. Do you understand what it's like not to be able to THINK the THOUGHTS that you want? Do you? Have you ever been there you disturbingly well adjusted bitch? It is not a question of do I want to stop but I can't. It's its own kind of addiction only there's no CHOICE involved beyond "will I do something stupid like hurt myself today?"

There hasnt been enough damn time for me to get where she wants. Yes, I've been home since May, and that's awhile. Hey, I may in fact seem like I'm okay a lot of the time. I may seem better than when I was living in my room for 6 months but I'm not really. I'm supposed to go to cripplingly mentally ill to productive 10-12hrs a day in 4 months? The meds make me sleep for 10-12hrs woman. Fuck you. Just fuck you.

Here's a rough overview of the fight:
Mom:"You can make time for the things you want. You always have."
Me, sitting on the floor staring up at her, thinking And you expect that to magically change after 25yrs? Why would you think that would stop now?
Mom: "I cant motivate you without punishing you or bribing you. It's been like that your whole life."
Me: "And those only worked when I wanted them to so why do you think that changed?"
Mom:"Because you're an adult now, Rachael!"

Now I'm sitting there on the floor getting yelled at - like a teenager, thinking "what about this situation makes you feel like I'm adult?" That is the thing I cant deal with. Why on God's green Earth does she think Im suddenly an adult? Ive been over eighteen for more than half a decade and I can say with all sincerity - I am no adult. I'm pretty much a teenager who has to go to work and is done with school. Her yelling wont make me into one, no matter how loudly she screams.

Its not like a magic wand was waved and like a fucking pumpkin turned into a carriage I was turned into someone worth mentioning. I'm still an awkward, angry, apathetic 15 year old powerless over my own life. Only I've gained 80lbs, a bunch of physical and emotional scars and had all my hope drained away leaving me trapped in the dumpy ugly body of a 24 year old failure. All the immaturity with bonus self-loathing and despair and enough experience to prove that my life WILL NEVER IMPROVE IN A LASTING WAY!

Feelings like the ones above are perfect examples of what I cant EXPLAIN to her. No matter how many times I say it, she cant seem to get how the very idea of TRYING makes me compelled to get in bed and never get out again. Pointless=me. I wish there was a word for how I feel when I get set off with this. I dont want to die or anything so melodramatic or permanent. I just want to...cease existing for a little while and come back when everything doesnt hurt so fucking much and seem as hopeless.

Why isn't that an option? And why did I get sober? This would be so much easier if I were still abusing my ativan.

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