(no subject)
[8:07:00 PM] Megan Gann: I was riding around town with the DH (in the dream), and we stopped by this place called the Little Door Bakery
[8:07:35 PM] Megan Gann: And like it literally had the tiniest opening (like 4.5 ft door) that opened into a long hall with a scatter of tables and doors.
[8:07:44 PM] Megan Gann: It was full of older dapper looking people
[8:08:29 PM] Megan Gann: At the end of the hall there was a table/cashier, and you walked behind it into a big open area with all sorts of sweets (pastries). They looked more like tarts/petit fours/minicakes but they were all called donuts
[8:08:57 PM] Megan Gann: they came in EVERY imaginable flavor and combination. But I kept looking for one that was big because they were all the same price, but different sizes
[8:09:19 PM] Megan Gann: After I picked out two (one tiny strawberryish and another bigger cake ~the size of my hand)
[8:09:36 PM] Megan Gann: I kept walking around and off one of the big room's openings, it was a theater!
[8:10:02 PM] Megan Gann: It was showing old movies (like old old) with the seats packed full of hipsters and older people.
[8:10:19 PM] Megan Gann: I paid for my donuts and started walking around to take pictures for my blog
[8:10:40 PM] Megan Gann: Turns out the hallway hid smaller 'theaters' that showed different movies (all still old/vintage)
[8:11:01 PM] Megan Gann: And I wound up walking outside with my cakes and nibbled on the small one.
[8:11:19 PM] Megan Gann: Then someone I knew was there talking to me, and whoever was with them took my bigger cake and ate it

In Sickness and In Health
The Fall by miss_hale
I oughta be used to this by now. Feeling abandoned whenever I actually need to rant about something just to get it off my chest. I listen to everyone get unload their shit and when I've had a bad day, every one backs off.

I don't have friends who wanna go out and do shit, or stay in and do shit.

Even the DH shuts himself up in a game of Dota, effectively blocking me out most of the day.

Granted we both need time and measures to keep from driving one another insane being in the same room all the time, but still.

I wish I could laughing through life like I'm 12 all the time, and God, I do try.

I'm sorry if you read this journal, this is my last resort place to 'confess' negativity, get things sorted in my head. I try to talk about happier times over here, but mostly, it's just the same shit different day.

(no subject)
Well, that was... frustrating? It's very hard when you're very like someone and also very different. Because one minute you're agreeing, but the next it feels like arguing.

Personally, I'm a very, very open minded opinion. I don't mind sitting next to someone who's prefers something I don't. I'm cool if you want chocolate ice cream, and I can't really eat ice cream without regretting it (ice cream is not a metaphor. I'm talking literal lactose issues). But the idea extends to bigger things, I'm perfectly okay with people who do things the way they do.

But when trying to create... creating is already a hard thing. I draw, I've played musical instruments, I sing and dance - badly. I cook like a badass. I adore reading, but I'm a baby-writer. And thus trying to work with someone who is more established, in fact who has written books - is a very intimidating thing. It's hard to be a leader in a situation like that. But it's hard to not push. You can't have two passive and make an active story.

In my actual life, I'm quite a catalyst. Maybe it's difficult to explain to people who don't know me. I do things on the spur of the moment, I made rash decisions, like being someone's friend or not. It's stupid things, it may be vapid, but spending my life in fear has been shitty enough that I often leap without looking, because if I look, I'll never go.

And I just got tired of not living.

But when I face the negatives in life, it brings the old fears back. The anxiety. When I realize I can't force people to see their beauty or goodness, when my depressed friends can't "let go" of their depression - I feel helpless.

I feel like a recovering-alcoholic with a year of sobriety under her belt, preaching to an AA meeting full of day two sober drunks about how great it is to be clean. That is a metaphor. I'm a recovering anxiety-addict with OCD and a penchant for optimism. I still love angst in stories, I want something to twist my insides and make me cry, but I also want to fill the world with joy and bliss.

Maybe my meds are set too high.

I'm happy though, and it makes me want to give up seeing so many miserable, angry, and rotten. I want to breathe life and faith into the world again. Damn my idealistic nature.

Maybe it's a good thing I don't drive, I depend on the willingness of others to partake in my insanity. I finally get bold and reach out through the internet. My successes made me bold. And now I feel the little failures, the worry, and judgement. I wish I could say getting a thicker skin would help, but thick skin only makes the tattoos harder going in. Critiques and criticism slides right through, thick and thin.

It's difficult, and complicated, and I'm trying. But I don't like the weird middling feeling, after elation, but before depression. It's not really happy or sad, and I fight hard enough not to feel bland and robotic. So it's an exaggerated feeling, like an actor on stage making sweeping motions for the audience, while major movie stars can squint their eyes on megatrons and the whole world can see the moisture well up in their eye. Those shades of grey emotion are hard to process because they slide so far down into the black I worry the gradation will be lost.

I never was good at seeing the depths. My art teacher told me my visual contrast was my worst skill. I imagine the more complicated emotions are harder to grasp. Only they don't make glasses for emotions.

It's complicated, and I just hope I'm not misunderstood.

Is it real?
So I got this job. My technical title is "Assistant General Manager"..

At a local consignment store. It's only been open for a few months, and like any new business, it's barely floating.

But the potential is huge. Our sales and relationships with our customers build every week. We have interested investors, qualify for grants, and we have the (wo)man power of two very determined individuals behind it.

But it's hard because my family doesn't see it as a real job since I'm only getting paid sporadically, as the shop does. It doesn't make my job any less real. I still go in and bust my ass for 4-8 hours a day. Often by myself. I inventory new stuff, sell to customers, climb into windows or on chairs to pull items down to check pricing and sizes. I haggle, I bag, I cashier. I clean up the nastiest messes people make of our little store. I rotate stock from the front into clearance, from clearance, into our charity area. I price and price the endless tubs of stuff.

I fight between three computers running XP, 7 and 8. But I manage to get them all working.

I do social media, I dress mannequins, I answer phones. I turn away people who bring me stained, holed, ripped clothes. I call out people who write me bad checks until the word "collections" is thrown in and then have to personally accept cash by the embarrassed woman who will likely never shop in our store again.

I count down the draw and lock up every night with my own key. I am a partner in all but legal name.

I throw myself at a glass wall (ceiling?) as it cracks.

But my family still says my husband needs to "get a job to support us"... Why can't my job be worthy of that? I know it's not there yet. But without it, we'd be no better off. Neither of us would be closer to supporting us. I do this job because it is my passion. My boss is a bosom friend who I've only known for a month max. But we're like spirit sisters with the same goals in life.

My husband supports my job. He even helps out around the shop as we need it. In fact, we need him too. My boss just can't pay him yet. So it really could be something that could support us, if we can make it work. I struggle to hang onto this. I struggle to not leave it. It's kind of changed my whole life. 

On Dead Things
The DH found a dead bird on our drive way today. It was a juvenile robin. Poor thing had possibly run into our garage and died. I felt quickly attached to the little bird. Even though it was trash day, I wrapped her in a plastic bag until evening and I buried her out under some flowers. She was so pretty, I didn't want to send her to the dump. I also took some photos of her. They are under a cut, but there is no gore. She was simply gone.

Dead Bird Pictures under Cut. No gore at all.Collapse )

Spending time with the bird, burying her - it was oddly spiritual. I'm not really a religious person, it was an interesting thing to observe and take part in.

It's also gotten me more in the mood for my next tattoo, which will be a cat skull (only forward facing) in a science-y line drawing style ranging from black to blue - to transition from my first and second tattoos. The tattoo in particular is to honor my deceased cat, Gomez. He was over 20 when he was finally put to sleep. He'd led such a long and spoiled life. So long for a housecat. Plus, this was the most badass cat tattoo I could think of.


On New Places
As a hermit, I find it very hard to find new opportunities. It takes a very deliberate action to meet new people. It takes even more effort to find new and interesting places.

Today I visited the new consignment store. I've been in before, and I'm building a report with the owner. I dropped off some stuff. I also check in on some of the events going on down there.

Then wandered into the "bakery" next door. Sad to find out it's more of a lunch place with open mic night once a week. Hrm. Okay. I bought some mini-cupcakes and brownies because they looked good.

Right down the way, on the way back to the car, I stopped in this coffeehouse/salon. I grabbed a cup of Jamaican Me Crazy coffee, cream only. And ate my mini-cupcake with it while the DH filled out an application to work their coffee bar.

It was a nice place.

So there were three new experiences. My hands also now smell deliciously of coffee and cupcake. Mmm. 

Over Coffee
I sometimes dream about having coffee or dinner with the most random people. Sometimes it's someone I know online, or someone I met briefly or haven't seen in years. I wake feeling lonely and missing that person. It's often very weird and strange.

Many times it's someone I've never met in person. It's been awhile since I've actually gone out for a meal with friends, I've been so busy with school and the Blog and Life the Universe and Everything Else.

John&Sherlock by drivemytardis
I wish we could be best friends again. I hate our stilted conversations and the weirdness after we hang out. It's usually a lot of fun, but it's nostalgic and past.

Live moves on, and it's hard to remember the old times.

I'm still making new friends, but a lot of it feels floaty - transitional.

I suppose I just don't want to lose touch again. Keep talking to me, yeah?

On choices
Ever make a decision, then suddenly it seems like everyone is talking about making similar decisions all around you? Did it make you want to change your decision?

Everything from jobs to school to life choices, I feel like I'm second guessing things I thought I wanted, but wanting to feel the same conviction I had earlier in that choice. I know I don't want children, I do want to finish school, and I still have no idea what kind of job I want.

I know so many people fall into where they are, but it seems like most of my friends "IRL" have moved on to new places and stages of life while I'm still trying to figure out how to get dressed and be motivated to wake up in the morning.

I find myself irreparably unable to get past the minor details of each day to work towards bigger goals.

I'm still wondering if it would be easiest to break away from everything, move to some place new to find a new world and see if it changes my perspective.

On homework
The Fall by miss_hale
So I've got this paper to write. And I've managed to do everything in the past 5 days except write that paper, but all I can think about is how I still don't have a job and how I don't want to be doing this school thing anymore because I'm so close, but so tired of writing papers about dumb stuff that even I can recognize is dumb. And how I can't stop because the gov't is paying for my tuition and it's probably too far through the semester to even drop everything.

And all I can think about is what I'm going to wear tomorrow because it's cold and I'm tired of cold weather, and I put my sweaters and coat away because I hoped it would make the cold weather go away, but it's rained and rained. So I'm probably going to pull out a sweater.

Well, this was full of wine and not enough cheese. Guess my posts haven't changed much in 10 years of using livejournal (GAH, Was I ever 13?)

I'm going to stare at the ceiling for another three hours before which I'll attempt to hammer out a poetry explication because I need to turn it in tomorrow. I'm hoping the pressure will make me actually finish the thing.

Also I miss my cats. (Yes I have 5 "away from home" cats. 3 of them are black: Spike, Annabelle, Bruce, York, Sammy)

Meow meows (4)August 19 (5)BB SAMMYPANTS (1)
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