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Things that make me happy

-Every time I start singing, my boy cat meows in response. If he's lying down, he'll roll around into an extra cute pose until he gets up and walks over to me, and nuzzles me.

-When I lightly touch a certain spot on BK's face, around his temple, he involuntarily makes the cutest, most content facial expression. He closes his eyes and tilts his face toward my hand, and sometimes he even makes a little "Mmm" sound. (We call these boyfriend purrs.)

-Better yet, when I kiss the right spot on his neck, or pay any attention whatsoever to his ears, he loses his ability to function. If he's talking, he will lose all concentration and trail off until he's only capable of making boyfriend purr sounds.

-Springtime. Particularly the beautiful, vibrant shade of green of the new leaves against a bright blue sky.

-Knowing that my youngest sister is growing into an intelligent, respectful, and most importantly, free-thinking and confident young woman, despite my other sister's negative influence. And knowing that I played a role in her development.

-Seeing my girl cat get off her fat ass to play more often lately.

-The knowledge that I do not yet have carpal tunnel, and that I can work to prevent it.

-Crochet. It gives me such a sense of pride, knowing that I can learn a useful skill and make something beautiful at the same time.

6:56 p.m. - 2009-05-12

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Happy holidays

Warning: I am not entirely sober, so this entry might ramble a lot.

Today I've been in a good mood, for once. The weather is nice, and nothing stupid happened at work, aside from RW acting brainwashed as usual. The woman is so sweet, but she is so detached. She was looking at a slideshow of pictures of the president's dog, you know, the one the media won't shut up about? I told her, "Every article that you read about that dog serves to distract you from every article that doesn't get printed about all of the horrible things happening around the world." RW then opened the next picture, and squealed, "Ohhhh isn't he so cute!" I walked away amongst the cubicles feeling half amused, half bewildered at how perfectly that moment had just illustrated my point.

I've been so frustrated with the herd mentality lately. Most of my coworkers drive me absolutely batshit crazy. All they care about is pop culture, sports, partying, and most importantly, their image. Heaven forbid one of them wake up too late to put makeup on one day. VH has even confessed that if oversleeps, she will still put on makeup even if it means she'll be clocked in an hour late. Grown women at my office obsessively read children's and young adult books like Harry Potter and Twilight. For some inexplicable reason a lot of people still care about American Idol, and the majority of the women can be seen in the break room reading celebrity gossip magazines.

I realize that I am coming off like a huge, judgmental dick. It's not that I think I'm better than them, it's just that I wish they would all wake up. I've spent my entire life politely (and sometimes less politely) asking people questions about their actions, because I wanted to better understand them. They always perceived this as judgment rather than curiosity, and would quickly find a way to insult me. From a young age, I have always tried to coax people into analyzing why they like a certain song, or why they dislike a certain person, or just why they think and act the way that they do on a daily basis. Not many people ever took the bait.

Lately I've been interested in expanding my horizons. I want to try mushrooms sometime in the future, I think. And I've just today started considering mescaline. BK bought a San Pedro cactus the other day, and is in the process of boiling it. I'm not going to try it this time around, but maybe some time in the future. I've been reading some accounts of what the effects feel like, and it sounds really amazing. This paragraph from this website especially peaked my curiosity:

"(with 400 mg) It took a long time to come on and I was afraid that I had done it wrong but my concerns were soon ended. The world soon became transformed where objects glowed as if from an inner illumination and my body sprang to life. The sense of my body, being alive in my muscles and sinews, filled me with enormous joy. I watched Ermina fill to brimming with animal spirit, her features transformed, her body cat-like in her graceful natural movement. I was stopped in my tracks. The world seemed to hold its breath as the cat changed again into the Goddess. As she shed her clothes, she shed her ego and when the dance began, Ermina was no more. There was only the dance without the slightest self-consciousness. How can anything so beautiful be chained and changed by others' expectations? I became aware of myself in her and as we looked deeply into one another my boundaries disappeared and I became her looking at me."

That sounds absolutely beautiful. It seems like mescaline would be a really positive experience. But I know I'm not ready for it yet. I'm still much to afraid to even experience sober life outside of my apartment. I need to overcome a lot of fear before I can handle something like that.

Anyway, tonight will be a baby step in overcoming fear. At least I'm leaving the apartment. I'm going over to MD and HB's to celebrate the unspoken "holiday". LH will be there, so it should be a good time, as long as CG doesn't whine all night.

6:47 p.m. - 2009-04-20

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Decreased quality of life

I think I have carpal tunnel syndrome. It started about a month ago, I think. I had been crocheting constantly, and one day I was doing it very fast, and I noticed that my wrist hurt a little bit. I thought, no big deal, it'll stop hurting when I stop crocheting. It did not stop. It got worse over the next few days, and I decided I had better stop crocheting for a while. The problem is, I couldn't stop using the left hand entirely. I have to type at work. If I try to type using only my right hand, it slows me down and lowers my productivity score, and increases the amount of errors that I make. I went to HR about it. They gave me a pad to put in front of my keyboard. Gee, thanks.

Now I have not crocheted in a month. Before, I was doing it on every break at work. I was doing it at home. I did it at friends' houses, I did it when I visited my family, sometimes I even crocheted in public, like in the park or the hookah lounge. Now I feel like I've lost a part of my identity. I have no creative outlet. I have no way to keep myself entertained anymore.

I have no way to keep my hands busy either, and so I've been picking at my skin like crazy. I have scabs and little pink marks all over my shoulders and upper arms, and my breasts, too. And I've been pulling hair, something I don't even usually do unless I'm stressed or extra bored. I usually just pull off my split ends, not exactly good for my already damaged hair, but nothing too harmful. But I've started pulling a few hairs off of my scalp. Not in clumps like a trichotillomaniac would, just one by one, and only a few at a time.

I have been trying to rest my wrist as much as possible, but it's really hard. You don't realize how much you twist your wrists and hands around until you can't do it anymore. I can't crochet, I can't type without pain, I can't play video games. I can't masturbate anymore. I can't orgasm because the only way I've been able to get off is by stimulating my clitoris with my left hand, or by holding a vibrator to it with my right hand and using my left hand to pull back the hood. So BK and I have not been having much sex, and I can tell he's been frustrated lately.

I want my life back! I'm worried that the damage will be irreparable. Or at the very least, that I will have to get surgery. I can go without Wii for the rest of my life. I can probably teach myself to orgasm using my right hand. But I am so unbelievably terrified that I will never be able to crochet again. Just when I finally find a hobby that fits me, a way to express my creativity and be part of a community full of people who share my interests, it gets taken away. I was going to learn to knit. I was going to write patterns. I was going to sell my crafts and maybe even some patterns. I was tossing around the idea of writing a pattern book in the future, or writing for a Crochet magazine. I wanted to make this my career. I was finally on track to knowing who I am and what I want to do with my life. If I lose my ability to crochet, what's left?

6:12 p.m. - 2009-04-16

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They are all cattle.

Today I was ridiculed by my entire team at work because I don't care about sports. Because I defended a girl who asked, "Why is it important?" I asked one of them, "How do sports have any effect on you?" The look on her face, on all of their faces, was that of a cornered wild animal. I had called them out, exposed them for the mindless herd thinkers that they were, and they were embarrassed. The only response they could come up with was to publicly mock me for it. They probably don't realize it, but I totally won that argument.

I don't care about those motherfuckers anymore. I don't care if they like me or not, and I don't care if they judge me. They are all the same person, for all I care. All most of my coworkers care about is sports, pop culture, and arbitrary brand loyalty. Oh, and partying. Partying like college kids, way into their late thirties. Partying when they should be taking care of their children, or learning things about themselves. And then they come into work on Monday and brag about whose car they accidentally puked in, or how they almost got into a fight with a stranger at a bar over something trivial like, oh say, sports teams.

When I try to talk to these people, they roll their eyes when they think I'm not looking. I know a couple of them talk about me behind my back. It's just like it was in high school, only this time I'm not going to let them make me feel guilty about who I am. I'm sick the pressure that these people put on me to act differently than what feels natural for me. I'm sick of feeling like I have to be pleasant and upbeat all the time. I may be grumpy a lot of the time, but I'm still polite. I'm still nice. I never go out of my way to hurt any of these people, but they all seem to think I'm a bitch. So fuck it, I'm done trying. I don't need them to validate me, and I'm not going to let other people define me.

11:34 p.m. - 2009-03-27

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