Whew, man, I’m tired. I feel like I start 3/4 of my entries on here by saying I’m tired. (The other 1/4 is probably drunk poetry) I need to write a couple work things. Grad school starts Monday. I’m nervous. I did a tour tonight with the only lady tour guide. She’s really good at it, maybe the best, but jesus christ she’s demanding. Like… way more specific and demanding than any of the other guides. Never have I ever in my life felt more like a literal servant than I do when I’m working for her. She basically wants her assistants to be neither seen nor heard. She doesn’t want them being at all distracting or taking the attention away from her. She wants everything set up in advance, everything handed to her at just the right moment and taken away immediately when she’s done. She has very specific instructions about where you should stand. Like… for each stop.  Never have I ever in my life. The night starts ((in the box)) with her telling me all of it, and me just trying to hold it all in my brain, and getting the equipment ready. I found out that my rival had done a very poor job for her and she was much displeased, so I was determined to prove I was better than him. We get to the first stop where I have to go ahead and set up the dvd player, and I realize I don’t have the fucking remote. I thought it was in the bag but it wasn’t there. I’m like half panicking because she specifically said she wanted it (most of the guides don’t even bother using it, they just push the button) and I’m supposed to be done and standing in my Quiet Corner™ by the time she gets there, but I also like… need to tell her I apparently fucked it up. So I just hang around all nervous until she gets there, and then I tell her I don’t have it and she gives me this look of pure annoyance, disappointment, disgust?? that just… cuts right to my guts. And because I’m me and not someone different my knees go weak and I find myself suddenly having to put considerable effort into Being A Person. She tells me to go get it and I literally run back to ((the box)) and use my freshly acquired door code privileges to get in, grab a remote, (they are all the same and work universally) and run out. I get back before she’s even at the part of the story where she needs it, and I slink up all quiet style to put it in the right spot but before I can get back to my Quiet Corner™ she makes a joke about it in front of the whole tour group, like she was going to fire me, “It’s so hard to get good help these days” and in my brain I’m like LOL. R.I.P. but since she already brought attention to me I decide to break from trying to be neither seen nor heard and I make an exaggerated, dramatic apology that gets a smile from her and a pretty big laugh from the group. And the tour moves on. I execute everything else perfectly. I do A+ above and beyond flashlight work. It ends, we head back to ((the box)). I apologize for realz for fucking up, and she says it’s cool, that I did very well overall. But she’s confused about where her remote actually is, because I just grabbed the first one I saw and there were only two and should have been three. I see a rectangle shape in her pocket and I’m like… “Is it in your pocket?” And of course it fucking is. Jesus Christ, I almost died about this stupid remote and it was in her fucking pocket the whole time oh my god. Like it was still technically my bad, because it’s my job to know where everything is before we go out, but oh my god. She had it. In. Her. Pocket. R.I.P. 


Saturn return

Heyyyyy. It’s 11:30 and that weirdly feels super strange and late suddenly. I don’t know. I’m sitting downstairs with all the lights off, considering whether or not I can muster up the strength to do some writing work. It would be good if I did… but also…. eeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhh. yeah. My dreams have really not been kind to me lately. (although just before waking a few minutes ago I *did* have a dream about a very cool roller coaster that my dream self made up.) But in general….. it’s been bad. I know all of it basically reflects shit that’s actually going on in my life, but in exaggerated and cruel ways tbh. I don’t know how to deal with that and I don’t know how to deal with anything really. It’s my birthday in two days, and part of me kiiiinnndaaaa just feels like curling up into a ball and crying until it’s over. (hey, that could partially just be the exhaustion and nightmares talking) My birthday always makes me feel weird and I already was feeling…weird…so yeah. Honestly, I’m going to just make the best of it. I’m going to try not to think too much, between now and when it ends. (lmao good luck me) I’m going to spend time with the people who love me. The people I love. I’m going to celebrate from Sunday night until Tuesday evening. I’m going to try and celebrate my life. Everything. I am going to try not to think myself into a dark place. I’m going to try and enjoy myself and live. For now, this dawning saturday, I’m going to see if I can sleep a bit more, and then more work.

Receipt fire

I am the master of all wedding venues. I have supreme knowledge pertaining to catering services and how many people can be seated in a room depending on its square footage and whether or not they want a dance floor. Behold my awesome power! For I can describe the same 8 amenities in dozens of different ways! But seriously… But seriously… I’m sick to death of this project, and I think it’s almost over… which is cool in a way but also sucks money wise. I hope they have something else afterward… but who fucking knows. I really don’t know. I guess I should try to contact someone about my grad school application since I still haven’t heard anything and I don’t know what the hell to do and I’ve secretly resigned myself to not getting in but I would really like to know for sure what the deal is. What’s my plan B? … No freakin’ clue bro. I feel stressed to death about a bunch of different shit honestly, but I’m trying to be chill about it. haha. yeah. nice. yeah. I really need to get my insurance application together. Fuck. My friend asked me to review his comic book script for him like over a week ago but I just haven’t gotten around to it at all, and I feel kinda guilty and like a shitty friend dick for taking so long, even though he said no hurry. ugh. Have to pay rent tomorrow, it is the day of reckoning money wise. My guts feel tight and knotted up… and not just because of that off brand pizza lunchable I just ate for dinner. Good thing pizza is a vegetable, am I right? So far I’ve been pretty successful with my quiet goal that I’m not gunna talk about on here. It feels agonizingly slow but I know it’s not really. I’m starting to be able to see it and feel it a bit. It feels nice. It requires CONSTANT VIGILANCE. But that’s okay. I should be living my life vigilantly anyway. I need to go get back to work, so I’m going to do that. Peace.

************** a number of hours later *************

Haha! here I am! I’m feeling pretty jacked on coffee still and I feel like typing more except not typing fucking wedding guide shits I want to type some type of stuff for myself. Like whatever, just to do some fucking thing you know? Just to do something different. I churned out another one and I would like to do two more before I do the sleep thing. Before I do I do I do the sleep thing. yeah. yeah. yeah. cool. That’ll bring me up to a total of 9 today, and a total of 57 all in. fifty-fucking-seven goddamn wedding venue write ups. How many words is that? how many is 500 X 57? *calculator go!*  haha it’s 28,500 words. That’s like more than halfway to a fucking novel’s worth of words in two goddamn weeks. MORE THAN HALF A NOVEL’S WORTH OF FUCKING DESCRIPTIONS OF WEDDING VENUES. WHAT? IS? MY? LIFE? EVEN?? Too bad it’s not that many words into an actual fucking novel… and instead it’s this thing that’s happening. By the time I’m done tomorrow it’s gunna be 60… or approximately 30,000 words. haha. What even? How did I write so many of these fucking things? How did I even do that?? Good job brain, you’re some kind of trooper. Some kind of sweet sweet thinking friend.

wedding hells

Sooooooooooooo…. hello! This week I’ve been working for a new client on a new project on a new platform. Basically I’m writing ~500 word reviews/descriptions of wedding venues. I’ve written 17 of them since Tuesday. That’s a lot of wedding venue reviews… but I’m going to try and hit 30. That would be enough money to cover rent and bills, with a tiny bit left over. So that means I need to shoot for writing 8 of them today… but I’ll settle for 7. Also, I fucking hate weddings and wedding culture. Have I mentioned that? So this is like….. I’m just in a perpetual state of being slightly annoyed while I’m writing them. having to use all kinds of flowery wedding related language and just silently apologizing to my jaded little soul self the whole time. (“sorry buddy. sorry you had to say that. sorry you had to think up that sentence with the words “lush bridal bouquet” in it. Sorry you had to say the words “special day” so many times. It’s gonna be a special day when you get paid for these, that’s what.”)  But honestly, I’ve done worse things for less money… so I can’t really complain. I think this project is gonna be over in like … 5 more days? is my estimate? maybe only 4, I dunno. So I’m going to try and suck as much money out of it as I can manage. This client said they are going to have other work after this, which would be rad since I haven’t heard a peep from my main client in like a week… but I don’t trust or count on anything. Nothing is reliable in the freelance world and I’m honestly really sick of the instability of it all. I want a steady, predictable income. -shrugs for 50 years- I still haven’t heard anything about grad school… no news is good news they say? but I just feel all twisted up about it honestly. If I don’t hear anything by the start of April I’m gunna see if I can contact anyone to find out what the deal is. No post on Sundays, so I don’t have to think or worry about it today… which is a little bit nice I think? Last night was pretty chill and fun. I was very drunk and we watched dumb movies and stuff and at one point we were scream singing dumbass emo songs. I dunno. I think it was pretty chill. I keep having dreams that I think are at least mildly kinky? but I don’t actually remember them? I just wake up with that feeling like…. something freaky went down in dreamland. Sooo… that’s something. Could be hormone related, because my **special blood time*** is due to happen any time now. I’m gunna start calling it that. Special Blood Time. Sounds like a ritual sacrifice or something. The ritual sacrifice of my goddamn uterine lining. You’re welcome. Alright, well, I have to go write about a hotel off of Lake Taho with “Stunning panoramic views of the sparkling water”.

Things I’ve done today:

  • Actually started my grad school application
  • Started looking through a million files and terrible poems to pick out stuff for my writing sample for my grad school application
  • spontaneously bought myself a rowing machine
  • and by spontaneously, I mean not spontaneously at all really, because I’ve been wanting one for a couple of months, and I did a shit ton of research and read a million reviews to figure out what the best one for my (very limited) budget would be.
  • Did 200 lines of curation, which is what I’m doing for money at the moment, and it is super freaking boring.
  • freaked out about my grad school application
  • realized how much shit I have to write for my grad school application
  • internally panicked about my grad school application
  • externally panicked about my grad school application
  • got sad and nostalgic looking through my old writing and just old stuff in general
  • realized just now that I should probably feed my snake because it’s feeding day and I bet she’s hungry
  • wasted time writing this dumb list
  • finished writing this dumb list and did other stuff instead

English major problems and ROASTING HOT CARS (and rope)

Sooooooo yeah, um… I’m now going into my second week with no freelance work. I have been trying my best to get stuff going but so far no one has gotten back to me and it freaks me out and sucks. It’s making me feel pretty stressed, and wicked fucking guilty and also like a terrible shitty failure at life. Like I’m letting down my boyfriend and my parents and not pulling my own weight. I had the chance to take a temporary job that would start in the middle of August, but I turned it down. Mainly because it pays $9.00 an hour and I would make less than $200 a week. I’m used to making $20-25 per hour for my freelance services. It makes me feel gross and used (not in the way I like) to make less than half of that for really hard, really terrible customer service job where I get treated like a servant (not in the way I like). I’m not saying that I feel like I’m above that kind of work… except secretly I do. I have a BA and years of experience in a variety of different fields and I shouldn’t have to fucking work shitty jobs that pay $0.50 over minimum wage. I’m just not going to do that shit anymore. SoooOOooooo I’m going to keep trying to score some freelance gigs and try to communicate with people and e-mail them the right amount to seem determined and persistent but not annoying and obsessive and abrasive. I feel like it’s a fine line and I’m not super good at determining where it is.

In other news… my brother and I did some recording last night. My brother was laying down some vocal tracks and I ran the sound board and everything. Nights where I don’t have to sing are much less stressful for me. 😛  We have been talking for a while about how we both feel like we sound really awesome when singing in our cars, so we decided to try recording in his car, because why not right??! Soooo we set it all up, which took like a half hour.


Here’s a really shitty blurry picture I took. (The garage lighting was horrible for picture taking) You can see the sound board over there on a chair and my bro in his car (he drives a retired police cruiser which is fun and awesome and hilarious cuz people pull over for him sometimes) And we had the microphone going through his window and you can sorta baaarely see it there in front of his face. The thing about recording is, just because something sounds good to the naked ear doesn’t mean it’s going to translate well to a recording at. all. The sound we got out of this was *okay* but not spectacular, and certainly not good enough to suffer through FUCKING ROASTING TO DEATH IN THE SUPER HOT GARAGE. Soooo we packed it all up and set up in the living room and recorded there instead. All in all it was fairly successful.

In other other news… my boyfriend has been watching Shibari tutorials basically the whole time I’ve been writing this and trying out knots  and it’s hella distracting. Oh man he just made a really nice bit gag out of rope and TRIED IT ON ME to make sure it would fit and that was VERY distracting.  So, I guess despite the stress of things un-known, my life is pretty dang sweet.

Coming soon: Reviews for the free kindle smut I’ve been reading, reviews of products for curly hair, more random rambling and personal stories about my life.

AaaAaaaaAAAaaand that’s basically all that’s going on with my life at the moment. How are you guys doing? TeLl Me AbOuT yOuRsElVes!!!!111!!!