So today I'm having another round of laser removal done. It's not fun, but whatever. It's not the most horrible thing in the world, either. I bought a new pair of sneakers and am going to do this appointment, then go back home to Oakland and watch TV, and do laundry if I have the energy. It's nice not living in this city anymore.
Work wasn't too bad after the horror of last Tues night/Wed morning. I'm going to try and take a day off in the coming months for a nice little 3 day weekend.
I moved upstairs to #6 and so far, so good. No roaches. However, this morning, I found a very small spider barely able to be seen by the naked eye, as well as some kind of black beetle crawling on the kitchen curtain. NOT FUCKING COOL. Is this building infested? What the fuck? This better not even be a motherfucking bi-weekly occurence, because I will pack up my stuff and move elsewhere. These people need to get it together. Fumigate or exterminate or whatever. I understand that in apartment buildings, especially old ones, there are small bugs that you can't avoid, but come on. I just moved all my things to a new apartment to get away from the cigarette smoke, the noise, and the bugs, and I am still: smelling cigarettes, hearing noise from downstairs, and now have seen more fucking bugs. I think I should start looking for a new place. I don't need this aggravation. It's bogus and the owners of the building need to keep it clean. There's crap all over the back stairs, due to the numerous pigeons outside that I am now hearing all the time, and the building smells musty when you walk in. I guess as long as I don't see anymore bugs, at least for a few months, I'll be ok.
I hope these shoes I bought fit right. I'm standard mens. 8.5 in Onituska Tigers, my favorite sneakers ever. They're the best, comfiest, and fit nice. No surprises. I'm going to go back home and maybe take a walk. It's a very balmy day today, a bit overcast, but warm. People are wearing shorts around.
I'm missing the days of being 21 years old. It seems like you spend so much time waiting for these milestone birthdays, like 16, then 18, then 21, then it's like...hmm.. can I just stay at 21, please? 29 is kind of...not that great. And 30 is a milestone, but if you're alone it's kind of a sad milestone.
I'm really irritated by the bugs. There's more important things to get upset over, but I put all the effort into moving and I AM STILL SEEING BUGS. I don't fucking care if it's one spider or a fucking water beetle or whatever. It's unacceptable.
That's all for now.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Years ago, I used to enjoy writing short fiction and some creative non-fiction stories. It was a big hobby of mine, and a nice way for a shy and awkward teenager to escape to horrible world of the suburbs. Now, years later...I just feel like I can't do it. I can't even write a line or two without getting bored and looking at what I read and seeing a bunch of garbage. I wasted my college years majoring in Literature when I should have majored in Business, Marketing, or Communications. Or Nursing. Or SOMETHING ELSE. I had zero motivation and ambition after my mother died. And after my father died first, I really lost my support system. Dad always said he was my biggest fan, and he really meant it, too. I remember the least concert I sang in at elementary school, in late spring 1994. He was only a few months away from dying, but you never would have known it. He looked healthy and alive.
Anyway, I remember he stood up halfway and waved his arms in the air, and I smiled back and gave him a little wave. He was so geniune and happy, and smiled his big, wonderful smile. I miss him a lot, still, but my memories of him stop at age 12. It's not easy to carry those memories with you into adulthood. They start to fade away and turn into sad recollections.
Wouldn't everyone love to write a book about their fucked up childhoods and adolescence, about all the assholes who wronged them and treated them like shit, and have it published, and turned into a major bestseller? Then all of those same douche mongers could read them and take a metaphorical punch to the solar plexus. I need to push it and create something great, I have a lot of good material, but putting it into a semi-fictional story is tough to do. I'm not good at writing witty dialogue.
It turnes into mish-mash fiddle faddle.
I was going to go into the city today but just couldn't dredge up the energy. I had a slight nightmare last night anyway with too many bugs. I'm sick of it. My landlord never mentioned that there is a slight roach issue in this building. I really want to move, like, now. Out of Oakland, and out of California. Fucking forever, kiss it goodbye for the last time.
Anyway, I remember he stood up halfway and waved his arms in the air, and I smiled back and gave him a little wave. He was so geniune and happy, and smiled his big, wonderful smile. I miss him a lot, still, but my memories of him stop at age 12. It's not easy to carry those memories with you into adulthood. They start to fade away and turn into sad recollections.
Wouldn't everyone love to write a book about their fucked up childhoods and adolescence, about all the assholes who wronged them and treated them like shit, and have it published, and turned into a major bestseller? Then all of those same douche mongers could read them and take a metaphorical punch to the solar plexus. I need to push it and create something great, I have a lot of good material, but putting it into a semi-fictional story is tough to do. I'm not good at writing witty dialogue.
It turnes into mish-mash fiddle faddle.
I was going to go into the city today but just couldn't dredge up the energy. I had a slight nightmare last night anyway with too many bugs. I'm sick of it. My landlord never mentioned that there is a slight roach issue in this building. I really want to move, like, now. Out of Oakland, and out of California. Fucking forever, kiss it goodbye for the last time.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Monday, December 5, 2011
It's been awhile since I posted, because I've been kind of numb since my vacation. It wasn't really what I was expecting, and then again, it was exactly how I knew it really would be. Staying in New York was a disappointing and lonely as it was last year, only this time it was warm and humid, which was kind of a pain since I brought a winter coat with me and a bunch of sweaters. My hotel was very cute, which was a win. The first night I got in, I showered, which was a huge relief after the plane ride, then went to McDonald's, got dinner, and watched TV. I felt the East Coast vibe very strong, the autumn, leaves, scents in the air, etc.
I bought my aunt a gift at Bliss Spa for her birthday, and spent most of the next day just doing nothing. Eventually, finally, I took the subway to the West Village, where I met the guy named Steve five years ago. Going back to that locale was very strange. Also, it was hot out and my careful makeup, hair, etc, went to complete hell and I looked bad.
If you're by yourself, New York can be absolute hell in it's lonliness. You feel like the city is a living organism that will swallow you whole if you're not careful. That's how I was feeling, but I made it back to the West Village where I met this man whose name was Steve, 5 years ago. Walking around the neighborhood felt very familiar, and very horrible, too. I felt horrible feelings and the horror of that time: being broke, essentially homeless, sick with decay. I think when I met him I had been wearing the same outfit for 3 days because I had little to no clothes to wear. My hair was growing out from bad homemade cuts and dye jobs, and I remember that I had bobby pinned the sides of it up so it would look longer in the back. I had one green flip flops I bought at a J Crew around the corner from my sister's luxe high right apartment, the one that her and her jerk off husband couldn't really afford. Grifters r' us they were.
I have no sense of direction. It takes a long time for me to learn new places and neighborhoods, so I got somewhat lost, then all of a sudden, ended up on Greenwich Street. I walked down and found Johnny's Bar. It was the strangest moment. Not even surreal, just very, very odd. I felt nervous and hot, so I went to Starbucks, hoping I could find a table, sit, and think. Of course it was packed. I had the old horrible feelings of walking around Manhattan, observing all of the well-dressed people with good jobs, homes, friends, lives. It made me feel like dying. I guess I have come somewhat further than I was at that time.
Eventually, I did go inside, and the place seemed much smaller than I remembered. There was a group of college age people sitting at the end of the table, and a few lonely alcoholics. The place just seemed grungy and sad. I don't drink alcohol anymore, and haven't had any in almost five years. After taking a sip or two of a gin and tonic, I felt the alcohol take small effect, a slight blurring of my vision and a little bit of vertigo. I just ran out of that place and took the subway back to my hotel. New York is a horrible place to me, I'll never go back there. I hope to never go back again. At least I can move on now without the idea of a possibility that is so ridiclous in reality holding me back.
I've still had thoughts of this guy, though. Will they ever go away? Why is it I am still, sometimes, so enamored with a memory of someone I don't know? That sounds horrible because it kind of is. He's a real guy, off someplace, probably in New York, maybe with a family, or kids and an ex-wife, or a girlfriend and no kids, or who knows? I guess you can really fall dangerously in love with strangers. That love at first sight thing is really possible.
Today is just another day, however. A work day, the worst day. Tuesdays are awful. I am coming off of a short weekend, a nice night's sleep, and then I have to languish the day away and rest enough to be sharp for work at 11pm. I get paid Friday though, which is great, and I'm going to get my hair done, maybe get some new glasses or something.
I saw a movie about sex addiction and generally some very fucked up siblings yesterday. It was hard to watch but a good movie. Very kind of like this clinical documentary kind of experience, but when the main character actually felt powerful emotions, you kind of felt them with him or something. I might go see it again.
I've been taking a lot of self-portraits just to be aware of how fully ugly I am. I have some good angles, but mostly am not that attractive. I have messed up teeth. And they're just very prominent, big teeth, too. Crooked and just fucked up. Bad genes from my father's side of the family. My mother had almost perfect teeth, and a perfect face. It's hard as a girl not to feel pretty, or to feel like there's something about me that ruins my looks and should have been fixed but wasn't. Thanks to the asshole bastard orthodintist who put 2 rounds of braces on me and they didn't make a fucking dent. I think when I walked out of his office the last time, they were still fucked up and my overbite hadn't gone anywhere, and the asshole was like, all right, perfect! I looked him up on his website and now he and his son practice together. How cute, right? That man was a mean asshole and my mother took me to him TWICE. THe first time should have been evidence that he wasn't efficient. WHy did she take me to the same guy a second time? I don't think she cared enough. I think she thought, so what. I've raised two kids already. Maybe this kid can stay home with me forever and I won't be alone. Let's leave her ugly so no guy will want to marry her. Or just laziness. Sometimes I think my parents were very irresponsible to have a third child when they knew my father had health problems, and my mother was 40years old. My childhood was not normal and it ruined my chance at a normal adult life. Sometimes I don't understand how I'm even still alive.
I bought my aunt a gift at Bliss Spa for her birthday, and spent most of the next day just doing nothing. Eventually, finally, I took the subway to the West Village, where I met the guy named Steve five years ago. Going back to that locale was very strange. Also, it was hot out and my careful makeup, hair, etc, went to complete hell and I looked bad.
If you're by yourself, New York can be absolute hell in it's lonliness. You feel like the city is a living organism that will swallow you whole if you're not careful. That's how I was feeling, but I made it back to the West Village where I met this man whose name was Steve, 5 years ago. Walking around the neighborhood felt very familiar, and very horrible, too. I felt horrible feelings and the horror of that time: being broke, essentially homeless, sick with decay. I think when I met him I had been wearing the same outfit for 3 days because I had little to no clothes to wear. My hair was growing out from bad homemade cuts and dye jobs, and I remember that I had bobby pinned the sides of it up so it would look longer in the back. I had one green flip flops I bought at a J Crew around the corner from my sister's luxe high right apartment, the one that her and her jerk off husband couldn't really afford. Grifters r' us they were.
I have no sense of direction. It takes a long time for me to learn new places and neighborhoods, so I got somewhat lost, then all of a sudden, ended up on Greenwich Street. I walked down and found Johnny's Bar. It was the strangest moment. Not even surreal, just very, very odd. I felt nervous and hot, so I went to Starbucks, hoping I could find a table, sit, and think. Of course it was packed. I had the old horrible feelings of walking around Manhattan, observing all of the well-dressed people with good jobs, homes, friends, lives. It made me feel like dying. I guess I have come somewhat further than I was at that time.
Eventually, I did go inside, and the place seemed much smaller than I remembered. There was a group of college age people sitting at the end of the table, and a few lonely alcoholics. The place just seemed grungy and sad. I don't drink alcohol anymore, and haven't had any in almost five years. After taking a sip or two of a gin and tonic, I felt the alcohol take small effect, a slight blurring of my vision and a little bit of vertigo. I just ran out of that place and took the subway back to my hotel. New York is a horrible place to me, I'll never go back there. I hope to never go back again. At least I can move on now without the idea of a possibility that is so ridiclous in reality holding me back.
I've still had thoughts of this guy, though. Will they ever go away? Why is it I am still, sometimes, so enamored with a memory of someone I don't know? That sounds horrible because it kind of is. He's a real guy, off someplace, probably in New York, maybe with a family, or kids and an ex-wife, or a girlfriend and no kids, or who knows? I guess you can really fall dangerously in love with strangers. That love at first sight thing is really possible.
Today is just another day, however. A work day, the worst day. Tuesdays are awful. I am coming off of a short weekend, a nice night's sleep, and then I have to languish the day away and rest enough to be sharp for work at 11pm. I get paid Friday though, which is great, and I'm going to get my hair done, maybe get some new glasses or something.
I saw a movie about sex addiction and generally some very fucked up siblings yesterday. It was hard to watch but a good movie. Very kind of like this clinical documentary kind of experience, but when the main character actually felt powerful emotions, you kind of felt them with him or something. I might go see it again.
I've been taking a lot of self-portraits just to be aware of how fully ugly I am. I have some good angles, but mostly am not that attractive. I have messed up teeth. And they're just very prominent, big teeth, too. Crooked and just fucked up. Bad genes from my father's side of the family. My mother had almost perfect teeth, and a perfect face. It's hard as a girl not to feel pretty, or to feel like there's something about me that ruins my looks and should have been fixed but wasn't. Thanks to the asshole bastard orthodintist who put 2 rounds of braces on me and they didn't make a fucking dent. I think when I walked out of his office the last time, they were still fucked up and my overbite hadn't gone anywhere, and the asshole was like, all right, perfect! I looked him up on his website and now he and his son practice together. How cute, right? That man was a mean asshole and my mother took me to him TWICE. THe first time should have been evidence that he wasn't efficient. WHy did she take me to the same guy a second time? I don't think she cared enough. I think she thought, so what. I've raised two kids already. Maybe this kid can stay home with me forever and I won't be alone. Let's leave her ugly so no guy will want to marry her. Or just laziness. Sometimes I think my parents were very irresponsible to have a third child when they knew my father had health problems, and my mother was 40years old. My childhood was not normal and it ruined my chance at a normal adult life. Sometimes I don't understand how I'm even still alive.
Monday, November 7, 2011
t I woke up so early today, at 5am. Maybe it's the daylight savings time holdover or something. I've been paranoid about my health, especially lately. After doing a lot of reasearch about all kind of health problems on the www, I feel a little bit pacified, but not 100%. But I'm going to put that on the backburner for a bit and focus on my trip back to NYC to visit my family/have a few days vacay, in less than 1week.
I've been planning this trip for awhile, but haven't really reached goals I had for myself like: a) lose 40 lbs. (I don't really need to lose 40 lbs. Maybe 10 at the most.) b) buy some new glasses, like DKNY or Versace. (didn't happen. Eye glasses usually cost me about 400 for a good pair. No bueno.) c) Get some great outfits to wear. (also didn't happen. I have a new Old Navy sweaters that have shrunk after 1 washing and jeans that are slightly too big or too small.) d) do all of the above, and still manage to save about 500 dollars for incidentals, like getting my hair done and saving money for cabs, if I need it. Figuring out public transportation in NYC, to me, is like trying to do Calculus. Basically impossible.
SO. I will barely have enough to cover my hostel/hotel situation, and then a gift for my aunt. I guess that's ok. But, see, I am a very anxious type of person. I always have been, since childhood. I stress, stress, stress over little things, big things, things in-between, and things that haven't even happened yet. I hope to have a good time and not stress the fact that I can't afford a Burberry coat, or Frye boots, or highlights at Bumble and Bumble. Maybe next year. I just want to look my best in case something good happens. After yesterday evening/morning, though, I just want to get out of California for a week and away from this cesspool.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Night from Hell
I'm sitting at home, warm, cozy, in sweats, ready for Sunday night TV. There's a lot of good TV on tonight, too. But my night last night, while calm at work, was the commute from HELL. SATAN was in full form last night, busting out his minions in triple time. Ok, not really, but kind of something similar.
Sometimes I'm a little too early for work, which is ok. I hate being late and that drives me to always be a tad too early. Also, I don't want to be standing around waiting for AC transit to show up at 10pm, then have to walk, in the dark, dimly lit
street, to the subway stop. So I leave early, no biggie. I'll get off at another stop in the city and browse the drug store for a bit, get some Red Bull, magazines, etc.
So I do this. I go back out to wait for the bus. Now, I have had a good run for awhile. No street harrassment. No strange men hurling obscenities or insults. None of it. But I think last night/this morning made up for about 8 mths of peaceful commuting, more or less. At the bus stop there's a group of youngish guys. Kind of thuggish, in that fake MTV way. I'm putting on my scarf and one of the group, I guess their little ringleader, tries to talk to me. I was nice and vague, but it was cold, raining, and I'm too old for this shit. Poor little guy's ego couldn't handle rejection from a woman he a) didn't know, who was b) alone, and c) very unassuming, so he started on this insane rant about how women are bitches and he kept screaming about me as 'that bitch over there.' It was vile and horrible. An older guy standing at the stop felt bad for me, I think, and kind of moved over to where I was standing. It was very bad. I hadn't done anything but be nice, then kind of stop talking and go back to MY BUSINESS. This little a-hole's friends looked embarrassed and didn't say anything. Their friend completely clowned himself all over a woman he didn't know, who could have been 35 and married for all he knew. Once again, DON'T HARRASS WOMEN. Even if you think you're being funny or you really just have to say hello, it's not welcome, in a public transit stop, at 10pm in the night. It's just not. If you don't know that, you're either poorly educated or just a complete dumbass.
So I just dust it off, right? I'm like, seasoned to the freaks who come out at night and don't even care. It's my last night, I have my coffee, my power bar, my umbrella. Whatever. Work was fine, kind of long, and being daylight savings time change, I worked at 9 hour night. But will still get paid for only 8 hrs. But I wasn't even really tripping off of this or much eles. Not even the obscene toolbag from the bus stop. Whatever! Right?
This morning, I had another coffee run. I usually go to a sandwich shop that opens early, and the girl working there is always so nice, too. That helps. No weirdos. If I have extra cash, I'll leave 5 $ in the tip jar, and I gave a few dollars to a completely insane homeless crackhead, too, today. I felt so bad. The woman was just about on death's door.
So I drink the coffee, get up, leave, go to the subway. I'm walking down the long hall to the train, and out pops another horrible, dirty, crazy, missing teeth covered in dirt homeless man freak, who screams out, as if on command, fucking goofy bitch! I mean, it was like staccato gunfire. I was almost shocked at how many times I was verbally assaulted and called a bitch for nothing except trying to GO TO WORK AND GO HOME FROM WORK. ALONE. UNASSUMING. Does this happen to other people? Other women? I came home feeling very horrible, and ugly, too. Then I do what I always do when I feel insecure, which is take self portraits with my Blackberry, which, in turn, makes me even more secure because after 9 hours at work, on the graveyard shift, then a long commute home, makeup melted off, hair fucked up, bad early morning sunshine lighting, I look like Gollum. I had to take a long shower to wash away the horrible shame I felt of apparently being a really ugly, goofy bitch who gets attacked by horrible strange men. It was so bad. :(
My NYC trip is in 1 week exactly. I have a lot to do this week. Must confirm my hotel reservation and print out flight and hotel itinerary, go to H&M for some stuff,
borrow a carry on from my sister. Go to the bank when I get paid on Friday morning. I'll be extremely broke when I get back, but whatever. I also must get a birthday present for my aunt. I was thinking about getting her some turquoise jewelry. My mother loved turquoise and it would be a nice memory.
I just want to have a good week. No crazy scenes at the subway. Just calm and fine.
This time next week I'll be at my hotel in Manhattan, and am hoping it's not absolutely freezing. I need to try and have a good time this time. Last year I hibernated in my hotel room and was only there for a little over a night.
My tattoo removal is coming along, slowwwly. It hasn't really made a dent. Being broke sucks bigtime. I wanted to do all of this stuff to get myself a little more glam before going back East, get new boots, new glasses, and my hair done, and can't afford to do any of it. I'm hoping that I actually have a good time and am not wasting my money on this.
Sometimes I'm a little too early for work, which is ok. I hate being late and that drives me to always be a tad too early. Also, I don't want to be standing around waiting for AC transit to show up at 10pm, then have to walk, in the dark, dimly lit
street, to the subway stop. So I leave early, no biggie. I'll get off at another stop in the city and browse the drug store for a bit, get some Red Bull, magazines, etc.
So I do this. I go back out to wait for the bus. Now, I have had a good run for awhile. No street harrassment. No strange men hurling obscenities or insults. None of it. But I think last night/this morning made up for about 8 mths of peaceful commuting, more or less. At the bus stop there's a group of youngish guys. Kind of thuggish, in that fake MTV way. I'm putting on my scarf and one of the group, I guess their little ringleader, tries to talk to me. I was nice and vague, but it was cold, raining, and I'm too old for this shit. Poor little guy's ego couldn't handle rejection from a woman he a) didn't know, who was b) alone, and c) very unassuming, so he started on this insane rant about how women are bitches and he kept screaming about me as 'that bitch over there.' It was vile and horrible. An older guy standing at the stop felt bad for me, I think, and kind of moved over to where I was standing. It was very bad. I hadn't done anything but be nice, then kind of stop talking and go back to MY BUSINESS. This little a-hole's friends looked embarrassed and didn't say anything. Their friend completely clowned himself all over a woman he didn't know, who could have been 35 and married for all he knew. Once again, DON'T HARRASS WOMEN. Even if you think you're being funny or you really just have to say hello, it's not welcome, in a public transit stop, at 10pm in the night. It's just not. If you don't know that, you're either poorly educated or just a complete dumbass.
So I just dust it off, right? I'm like, seasoned to the freaks who come out at night and don't even care. It's my last night, I have my coffee, my power bar, my umbrella. Whatever. Work was fine, kind of long, and being daylight savings time change, I worked at 9 hour night. But will still get paid for only 8 hrs. But I wasn't even really tripping off of this or much eles. Not even the obscene toolbag from the bus stop. Whatever! Right?
This morning, I had another coffee run. I usually go to a sandwich shop that opens early, and the girl working there is always so nice, too. That helps. No weirdos. If I have extra cash, I'll leave 5 $ in the tip jar, and I gave a few dollars to a completely insane homeless crackhead, too, today. I felt so bad. The woman was just about on death's door.
So I drink the coffee, get up, leave, go to the subway. I'm walking down the long hall to the train, and out pops another horrible, dirty, crazy, missing teeth covered in dirt homeless man freak, who screams out, as if on command, fucking goofy bitch! I mean, it was like staccato gunfire. I was almost shocked at how many times I was verbally assaulted and called a bitch for nothing except trying to GO TO WORK AND GO HOME FROM WORK. ALONE. UNASSUMING. Does this happen to other people? Other women? I came home feeling very horrible, and ugly, too. Then I do what I always do when I feel insecure, which is take self portraits with my Blackberry, which, in turn, makes me even more secure because after 9 hours at work, on the graveyard shift, then a long commute home, makeup melted off, hair fucked up, bad early morning sunshine lighting, I look like Gollum. I had to take a long shower to wash away the horrible shame I felt of apparently being a really ugly, goofy bitch who gets attacked by horrible strange men. It was so bad. :(
My NYC trip is in 1 week exactly. I have a lot to do this week. Must confirm my hotel reservation and print out flight and hotel itinerary, go to H&M for some stuff,
borrow a carry on from my sister. Go to the bank when I get paid on Friday morning. I'll be extremely broke when I get back, but whatever. I also must get a birthday present for my aunt. I was thinking about getting her some turquoise jewelry. My mother loved turquoise and it would be a nice memory.
I just want to have a good week. No crazy scenes at the subway. Just calm and fine.
This time next week I'll be at my hotel in Manhattan, and am hoping it's not absolutely freezing. I need to try and have a good time this time. Last year I hibernated in my hotel room and was only there for a little over a night.
My tattoo removal is coming along, slowwwly. It hasn't really made a dent. Being broke sucks bigtime. I wanted to do all of this stuff to get myself a little more glam before going back East, get new boots, new glasses, and my hair done, and can't afford to do any of it. I'm hoping that I actually have a good time and am not wasting my money on this.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Last night was long and I spoke to some very rude and stupid people. And some nice and unfortunate people. Kind of par for the course, I suppose. Now it's over and I'm off, TG. All you can do is try your best.
I'm extremely unhappy w/ having 200 USD taken out of my checking account from MyLife.
I'm smart enough, or was smart enough, not to sign up and pay for shady shiz on the www, but now and again, your curiousity is piqued or you get lonely or whateva, right? So I decided to pay about 13 USD for a 1 month trial and look up some people I haven't seen in years.
Cue to astonishment over them almost immediately, as in, the second I put my card numbers in and hit 'done', taking 200 out of my account. I was flabbergasted. I also had to wait until 6am to get an explanation from customer service. They answered right away, but it seemed a little too easy. The girl asked for my email, zip code, and that was it, and was like, poof, your refund is done. I'm hoping that in 7-10 business days the money is back in my account. My trip is creeping closer and I need to save everything I have. I also need to cancel my debit card soon to avoid further charges from these people. I can't even access the account, they never emailed me my password. But the girl sounded nice, (as in, does that even matter anymore), and seemed very willing to fix the error. I'm really hoping that no other funds are going to be drawn from my account for a completely useless service that I can't even access.
I have my 2nd laser removal session tomorrow: not really looking forward to it. Now that I know what to expect, it's pretty bad. My hand will be pretty swollen for about 4-5 days, w/ blisters. Not
pretty. Takes about 2 weeks to heal.
I'm not sure if I should even bother getting my hair done before going back East. I thought about getting lighter brown highlights. I need to get some boots, though, and a warm coat that doesn't make me look like a penguin.
I don't know why people my age are in a mad race to have children. I guess it's not for everyone.
I just can't imagine doing that to my body. I feel like I've missed the boat sometimes, as if I have a hazy image of how my life would have been if my mother hadn't died 12 years ago. I don't know, really. Probably a lot different. I don't think I would have gone through some phases I went through in my later teens, early twenties. It's really hard to process extreme tragedy for children.
I'm not sure how adults don't understand that. I think I chose not to even try to process it,I ignored it for as long as I could until I felt emotions that were too hard to deal with, too hard to ignore. I guess it was going to happen eventually. You can't live in denial forever.
I'm not really sure when it was in my life that people who came into it were actively trying tohurt me in some kind of way. I suppose after my dad died, then after my mom died, it was like,you're alone. There is no responsible adult who really cares about you, your future, or the decisions you make. It's much more complex to raise children once they are almost legal adults. I feel like my development from adolescent to adult just never really happened sometimes.
I'm extremely unhappy w/ having 200 USD taken out of my checking account from MyLife.
I'm smart enough, or was smart enough, not to sign up and pay for shady shiz on the www, but now and again, your curiousity is piqued or you get lonely or whateva, right? So I decided to pay about 13 USD for a 1 month trial and look up some people I haven't seen in years.
Cue to astonishment over them almost immediately, as in, the second I put my card numbers in and hit 'done', taking 200 out of my account. I was flabbergasted. I also had to wait until 6am to get an explanation from customer service. They answered right away, but it seemed a little too easy. The girl asked for my email, zip code, and that was it, and was like, poof, your refund is done. I'm hoping that in 7-10 business days the money is back in my account. My trip is creeping closer and I need to save everything I have. I also need to cancel my debit card soon to avoid further charges from these people. I can't even access the account, they never emailed me my password. But the girl sounded nice, (as in, does that even matter anymore), and seemed very willing to fix the error. I'm really hoping that no other funds are going to be drawn from my account for a completely useless service that I can't even access.
I have my 2nd laser removal session tomorrow: not really looking forward to it. Now that I know what to expect, it's pretty bad. My hand will be pretty swollen for about 4-5 days, w/ blisters. Not
pretty. Takes about 2 weeks to heal.
I'm not sure if I should even bother getting my hair done before going back East. I thought about getting lighter brown highlights. I need to get some boots, though, and a warm coat that doesn't make me look like a penguin.
I don't know why people my age are in a mad race to have children. I guess it's not for everyone.
I just can't imagine doing that to my body. I feel like I've missed the boat sometimes, as if I have a hazy image of how my life would have been if my mother hadn't died 12 years ago. I don't know, really. Probably a lot different. I don't think I would have gone through some phases I went through in my later teens, early twenties. It's really hard to process extreme tragedy for children.
I'm not sure how adults don't understand that. I think I chose not to even try to process it,I ignored it for as long as I could until I felt emotions that were too hard to deal with, too hard to ignore. I guess it was going to happen eventually. You can't live in denial forever.
I'm not really sure when it was in my life that people who came into it were actively trying tohurt me in some kind of way. I suppose after my dad died, then after my mom died, it was like,you're alone. There is no responsible adult who really cares about you, your future, or the decisions you make. It's much more complex to raise children once they are almost legal adults. I feel like my development from adolescent to adult just never really happened sometimes.
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