I bought a house today. What'd you do?
It needs a metric butt-ton of remodeling done before it's lovely but it is extant which is nice.
It is an odd mix of exciting and disappointing buying a house. On the one hand: I now have a house On another hand that is presumably "t'other": a huge chunk of money disappeared from my possession. On yet another hand (shiva up innit): Spending such an amount of money at once satisfies a latently manic shopping high I get.
I own a roof and walls. I'm a big kid now.
It was really stressful as it was a short-sale so the penultimate stage of anxiety is yet another proverbial and egregious hand.
For Mercie's edification:
I'm still spending most of my spare time watching Nip/Tuck and am currently on Season 4 Episode 10 Merrill Bobolit.
Notes about the series: The music in the surgery scenes is the best and I watch them for the montages they often do and I'm swiftly becoming desensitized to the surgery gore and I've learned something about my distaste for it. The scene in which Sean operates on his son was totally tolerable to me. I didn't blink at all and it occurred to me that it was due to the fact that the scenes that disturb me the most are those I can empathize with. Blood doesn't frighten me nor viscera disturb me. I have an empathy hierarchy. The scenes with those most similar to me (i.e. young women) give me the cringes. All other women are second. Men are third and babies are apparently last. This separation by lack of identifying with the object of the surgery does not extend to animals, however. I cringed in the dog scene like a mofo despite the fact that it was tame. Apparently I love dogs more than babies.
That is why my womb is and shall remain barren.
I am tired of see-sawing on Kimber (that visual is oddly scissoring-reminiscent.. eeps!) I hate her then love her then hate her. Ambivalence is suck.
Additionally:
My birfday is in T-4 days. WTF@ world revolving around the sun.
Birthdays aren't actually special, I realize, but I like to pretend as though they are. It's like the word "love" or the concepts of morality. We all know it's objectively b.s. but it's fun to imagine they are important and vital in a diffuse sort of way. Social constructs are fine in hedonistic terms as long as you know better, I think. Life is really shit otherwise.
In other words, I like to feel like I have at least one arbitrarily special day during which I can run around like a velociraptor... in a tiara... in wal-mart... (sadly, that's my actual M.O.) and no one can say shit but for, possibly, "which color of pinwheel would you fancy." The answer is purple, tyvm. Now give me presents and tell me I'm a pretty pretty princess.
I need that freedom at least once a year. Containing myself gives me hemorrhoids in my soul-rectum.
I'm sure I'm way too into holidays for a grown-assed person and that it's odd for an otherwise rational and scientifically minded person to be that way but... the bird is the word, m'kay?
Um... suck it.
It needs a metric butt-ton of remodeling done before it's lovely but it is extant which is nice.
It is an odd mix of exciting and disappointing buying a house. On the one hand: I now have a house On another hand that is presumably "t'other": a huge chunk of money disappeared from my possession. On yet another hand (shiva up innit): Spending such an amount of money at once satisfies a latently manic shopping high I get.
I own a roof and walls. I'm a big kid now.
It was really stressful as it was a short-sale so the penultimate stage of anxiety is yet another proverbial and egregious hand.
For Mercie's edification:
I'm still spending most of my spare time watching Nip/Tuck and am currently on Season 4 Episode 10 Merrill Bobolit.
Notes about the series: The music in the surgery scenes is the best and I watch them for the montages they often do and I'm swiftly becoming desensitized to the surgery gore and I've learned something about my distaste for it. The scene in which Sean operates on his son was totally tolerable to me. I didn't blink at all and it occurred to me that it was due to the fact that the scenes that disturb me the most are those I can empathize with. Blood doesn't frighten me nor viscera disturb me. I have an empathy hierarchy. The scenes with those most similar to me (i.e. young women) give me the cringes. All other women are second. Men are third and babies are apparently last. This separation by lack of identifying with the object of the surgery does not extend to animals, however. I cringed in the dog scene like a mofo despite the fact that it was tame. Apparently I love dogs more than babies.
That is why my womb is and shall remain barren.
I am tired of see-sawing on Kimber (that visual is oddly scissoring-reminiscent.. eeps!) I hate her then love her then hate her. Ambivalence is suck.
Additionally:
My birfday is in T-4 days. WTF@ world revolving around the sun.
Birthdays aren't actually special, I realize, but I like to pretend as though they are. It's like the word "love" or the concepts of morality. We all know it's objectively b.s. but it's fun to imagine they are important and vital in a diffuse sort of way. Social constructs are fine in hedonistic terms as long as you know better, I think. Life is really shit otherwise.
In other words, I like to feel like I have at least one arbitrarily special day during which I can run around like a velociraptor... in a tiara... in wal-mart... (sadly, that's my actual M.O.) and no one can say shit but for, possibly, "which color of pinwheel would you fancy." The answer is purple, tyvm. Now give me presents and tell me I'm a pretty pretty princess.
I need that freedom at least once a year. Containing myself gives me hemorrhoids in my soul-rectum.
I'm sure I'm way too into holidays for a grown-assed person and that it's odd for an otherwise rational and scientifically minded person to be that way but... the bird is the word, m'kay?
Um... suck it.
elicit77:
Do you need any roommates?