Itchy and Scratchy

Moving away from anything like the serious topics that I've been harping on lately, such as work troubles and child abuse, I'll now discuss my skin disfiguration and my need for clothes*

*OK, so not NEED persay. Like not how homeless people NEED shelter. But if I want to be able to rotate outfits more than once a week and not incite comment on my lack of interesting clothing options, then I require some more interesting clothing options, dig? Plus I spent a significant portion of this morning playing on one of my fav sites What Claudia Wore and that blogstress is equally funny and awesomely dressed. Making me covet everything she wears and discusses. Thus, new clothes.

A few weeks ago I was sitting on the couch watching the new SciFi** show "Warehouse 13" and noticed that my arms were more than usually itchy. Looking down I noticed that my left arm was pretty badly covered in bug bites and that my right arm was only slightly less affected. I (at the urging of my dad) put on long sleeves and that seemed to mollify the bites' need for scratching. Since that fateful day I have awoken every morning to new bites. The bugs seem to have tired of my arms and have moved on to my hands. I have scratched at the bites so that they have begun to bleed, scab, and re-bleed when I pick at the scabs. (This post is starting out really disgustingly, I apologize). My current thought, planted originally by my mother, is that these are somehow not bites, but some sort of reaction or hive-type item. So I have half planned to see the doctor sometime this weekend. I must stop awaking to new bites/itchy bumps. I MUST! I look like a medieval pox victim and were we living in a less enlightened time, I would surely be shunned out of the village/be shipped to the leper colony. As it is, I would be hesitant to touch me/sit next to me were I an onlooker onto these arms. Oh my god, maybe I have leprocy! Lemme check WebMD!

OK apparently these bumps are not immediately indicitive of leprocy. Whew! Leprocy bumps are apparently numb little bumps and these suckers are neither numb nor little. Though there was an interesting article about who is most attractive to mosquitos.

I've always been something of a mosquito magnet. They have always seemed to prefer my milky white skin to my more swarthy companions. But really, this is the worst that it has ever been! EVER! I can never go through a summer totally unbitten, and most summer days I have at least 5 bites going, but for realz! A quick count of my left arm from elbow to fingertips yeilded 43! and thats only elbow to fingertips! I have more on my upper arm, PLUS an entire right arm unaccounted for! MY GOD!

Moving on. I think I will head to Target after work today. I have realized in my grabbing clothes for work each morning that my work wardrobe is severly limited. I have one pair each of comfy black and comfy khaki pants and one pair of comfy plaid grey pants. I have a spattering of tops that can easily mix and match with said pants, and a TON of black ballet flats (seriously, they're too cute not to buy, especially since they're almost always on super-sale), but only one pair of brown flats. Zero interestingly colored flats. For serious, I DO NOT NEED MORE SHOES! but I do think that I should invest in some more work shoes. 5 pairs of black flats against 1 pair of brown! And I have equal amounts (1 each) of black vs. brown work pants. That ratio is completely unfair, no?

Plus how awesome would it be if, say fr'instance, I was rocking the grey plaid (with subtle red and black and white lines in the plaid) with a black top, pretty much a blah outfit but then BAM, red flats with like maybe a cute bluckle or rhinestones or something equally amazing?! I'd date me.

**I remain using the somewhat original spelling of the network, as they have recently changed it to "SyFy" in order to appear more "hip". In matter of fact it makes them appear more intellegence challenged and contributes to the downfall of American and therefore world culture. They are encouraging txtspeak and thus are ushering in the end of the world. Seriously, SciFi, you have taken the end of the world's ticket, torn off the perforated bit and are showing the end of the world to its seat!

And so, I must go to Target. Siiiiigh. What a burden. Plus I need band-aids for my many bleeding/oozing scabby bites.

The seasons of my life

So last night on the way to my apartment from my parents house the song "Landslide" came on the radio. I sang along and realized as I sang that the song's sad lyrics weren't making me sad. Usually when I hear "Landslide" it inspires somber reflections on what the lyrics mean in the context of my life, bringing up questions I harbor with much more poetry than I could ever come up with.

But last night the lyrics that usually strike me the hardest were those I sang loudest and with the most gusto. "Time makes you bolder, children get older, and I'm getting older too" and "Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?"

I don't know what specifically about last night or about the lyrics that I know so well combined to make the song somehow life-affirming, but they did.

I was sitting here at work without anything to do so I thought I'd see if facebook was allowed here. It is and so I started playing around on facebook and I remembered that I had yet to read the notes about Sara's custody battles surrounding her step-daughter.

I must say that I was expecting them to be heartwrenching, but they were even more than expected. The poor child is being kept against her will with an abusive and emotionally absent mother who kidnapped her and forces her to lie to all child welfare representatives. The mother herself has lied so convincingly in court and so warped the poor girl as to make her lie too and paint her father as the villian. Though I can't honestly say that my encounters with Sean have been warm, he is most likely incredibly shy, made up for by Sara's open and kind nature. They are both very loving people, and the pictures of the three of them on facebook make me really sad that the little girl has had to spend any time away from them and in the company of her mother, much less 3 months.

I usually have such a trust in and respect for the legal system in this country. Yes, I roll my eyes with the rest of the world at people suing because their coffee was too hot, but I fervently believe in the idea that right will out. This situation makes me so sorry and so worried about the little girl that I have met only once. I truly wish there were something I could do to fix it, but I know that there really is nothing, and commiserating with Sara will likely bring up more feelings of disgust or frustration rather than alleviating them.

In reading Sara's words about the frustrations and fears and true horrors that have happened to their little girl, I had to think about my own childhood. Yes, everyone knows that there are abused children, but I dont think it ever hits home until you have actually met one and can really see the affect. I kept thinking about her life when she grows up. Will she be able to move on? Will she become an advocate for children's rights? Will she carry the scars with her in her heart, never telling anyone? Will she get so beaten down by life that she becomes her mother? I really hope that she can somehow put the past to rest, understand that her mother was not/is not well and that nothing she did ever warrented such reactions.

The thing that struck me most was Sara's description of the outcome of the first hearing. "She slept against my side in the waiting room. When we heard the decision she started to cry and scream. She kicked and screamed at her mother and then she clung to me for dear life."

I don't really have a connection between "Landslide" and the child custody battles, but I guess my connection is that I hope that everyone involved quickly gets a peaceful resolution and that she can handle the seasons of her life.

UPDATE: Sara's facebook status is was updated only a short while ago and says: "Wagons East with Baby Girl in the back seat!!!" Phew...

Stomach Churning Terror

I'm feeling nauseated and nervous and worried and theres really no need.

A few moments ago a guy at my new office came over and asked me what I was working on. With the horrible feeling of dread that I have come to recognize whenever I am in a workplace and am confronted by a superior, I replyed that I had'nt been given anything to work on yet, and I was just answering the phones for the time being.

He, with a conspiritorial air, leaned towards me and said, "Alisha said she gave you something to do and I need that space cleared out and I don't want to tell her how to do her job". Puzzled, I burbled something about not having heard anything about this, and truth be told, not knowing this Alisha. He smiled at me and said something about, "well she said she had given it to you but apparently not. Thanks for the scoop" and walked away.

Well, though I do not feel like he was at all angry at me, or really angry at all, I do somehow feel that this misunderstanding is my fault. I keep racking my brain to remember the unknown Alisha giving me a task, but the truth is that no one has approached me for anything this morning other than a red-haired gentleman asking me if I had a box cutter. This prompted a brief search which produced no box cutter. Other than that I have had no intercourse with anyone this morning.

Therefore, Alisha, whomsoever she may be, has told a fib it seems. But I still can't help feeling that I am somehow at fault, nor can I help the nausea that accompanies the feeling.

Working 9 to 5

Welp, I'm back in the working world and we all know what that means... Blog posts! Let me real quick outline the job sitch for ya'll

I got a call last thursday from a lady at a placement agency, telling me that she had a one day job open for Friday and would I like to take it. Suuure, money is always good, though I do get crazy nervous walking in cold to anything. Got to the gig, just a receptionist, no big deal, answer phones, read book. done.

At about 2:30 I got a call from the placement agency lady saying that the position was open for a full time option and would I like to take it. Of course I said yes and thus began much paperwork and stress.

The thing is that I never really got any time to process it. By the time the idea had found its way into the pathways of my brain I was in the midst of many other things. So I basically freaked out. Yes, it may come as a shock to some, but I do have my moments of freak.

I got here today 30 minutes early, due to an overarching fear of tardiness, skipped breakfast, and have since answered 3 phone calls, one hang up and 2 wrong numbers.

On the one hand I'm sitting here wondering what i want to do next (do i want to keep putzing around on the internet, do i want to read my book...) and on the other hand I'm remembering when I was putzing around on the internet at my old job and feeling guilty and horrible about not doing something productive. I think i'll just enjoy the putzing as long as it will last. I mean it can only be so long begore they decide that I need to be someones bitch and do all the slave type work.

I suppose I should take my brothers advice and not take such things to heart. But I think therein lies the differences in our character. When I am scolded by an authority figure, I immediately agree that whatever has happened is my fault. When he is reprimanded he immediately believes that whatever has happened is no ones fault, or at any rate not his fault. He has a rock hard certainty and I have a waivering self image.

I suppose I should just put it all down to first day jitters and leave it at that. Keep telling myself that with time everything will flow easier and that everyone is new at some point. Theres a really corny middle-school type lyric that I find appropos here: "Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end"

24

Yes its that time of year again folks! Time for you to buy me birthday presents! here is my list

As seen on TV clothes folder

Zebra print snuggie

Charm for my bracelet

Shelly Duvall Faerie Tale Theatre

Guitar hero for wii with two guitars

Diva Code book

Mary Poppins DVD

Raman Raving Rabbids Game for wii

Doug Season 1 DVD

“Far” Regina Spektor CD

Miss Piggy Cameo Necklace

The story of the tattoo

So a lot of people have asked what the story is with the tattoo so I thought I’d write it all down here and redirect people.

Lets see, where to begin? Probably with a detailed account of my best friend, Emily. Emily and I met in college when she was untattooed, but still unconventional. She had waist-length blonde hair that was often dyed with splotches of green and red due to the many concerts she attended and was sprayed with fake vomit and blood. I frequently say that she gave me no choice in being her best friend. She would come up to me anytime she saw me and chat and slowly ingratiated herself into my life.

Most recently the hair has been cut and is back to plain blonde (as opposed to my favorite pink) and the tattoos have begun to appear. Most recent count is 14. Also her most recent idea is to move to Hawaii for reasons passing understanding. She is leaving on the 7th of July, so she insisted that we get matching best friend tattoos before she left.

I went to see her this for an overnight visit two days ago and I let her know that if she was really serious that I was ready for it. I believe my exact words were, “if anyones going to make me jump its going to be Emily.” She replied that she would like to see that on a tombstone.

So she called up her ex-boyfriend who is a tattoo artist and conned him into fitting us in yesterday and incidentally doing it all for free.

We got to the shop and I was a nervous wreck. I was shaking and queasy. Em made me get a strawberry smoothie from across the road to keep my blood sugar up and try to prevent me from fainting. It actually worked! It gave me something to do with my hands, and not to mention the cold smoothie was a nice contrast to my increasingly rising body temperature.

I had requested to go first, I knew if I saw Emily going through it and all of the needly things involved then I would back out and not be able to go through with it.

All in all the actual tattooing wasn’t all that bad. It was about equivalent to scratching your nail around in a heart shape two times. It did hurt, don’t get me wrong, but the anticipation far outweighed the actual pain, as it always does.

The tattoo is of a small heart (and I mean small, about the size of a dime) on my left foot. I have to keep it moisturized for the next few days and I am shocked that it no longer hurts. Actually the hurting stopped about a half hour after the actual tattoo and now it feels like a bruise. I can’t feel it unless I press on it.

So there you go. The story of the tattoo. I will attempt a picture, though honestly its hard to bend that way to get a decent picture, so if you want to see it, you’ll actually have to hang out with me. HAHAHA