If I decide to update this blog in the future, then I’m just gonna start a new one fresh. One that doesn’t break laws by reproducing images and video without permission. Which I have done on this blog more than once.
Found this in my private diary, in which I rarely write these days, instead spouting my private thoughts all over WordPress and Tumblr. It’s from September 20, 2012.
Both PG and quite graphic (adult) talk about sex under the cut…
cross-posted to Tumblr
Oh, right, I talked to staffing agencies and one was like, “Sorry, nope.” The other one I kinda dropped the ball on, because I called them and emailed them and chatted with this one very understanding chick who didn’t hang up on me, then I called them back and made the mistake of not talking to the same chick, then this new person told me, “Sorry, nope.” Then she pointed out the way they work is they don’t find work for you, you apply, but through them? And she said to go to the office outside the city because there’s no work for anyone with no experience in Boston.
And then I think, “Why would I lower myself to this crap? Oh, right, because I was planning on doing this, like, last summer and didn’t and now I’m in a shit-ton of debt and considering signing up for Straight Talk Wireless instead of ditching my memberships to shit like Netflix and World of Warcraft to save money. It was a relief to discover that now I go back to just month-to-month AT&T service, now my 2 year contract has expired, so it’s the same price and service but now I can escape. I want Verizon but the idea of doing another 2 year contract with them at $114 a month pains me.
…why I miss sexual intercourse so much.
It’s that closeness. That kind of intimacy.
It’s also what terrifies me about it. Not only the physical pain, now, but because I’m one of those idiots who falls in love at the drop of a hat, after the most minimal of reciprocated affection.
TL;DR – Ramble about sex under the cut
I am not a “writer.”
Self-indulgent public diaries are not the same thing as essays or articles, and fanfiction is not the same as fiction. When I consider actually writing fiction from scratch, it feels like a chore. When I consider writing nonfiction people would actually read, or even pay to read, or at the very least listen to in a shitty coffeehouse, I’m moreso stalled by the sheer terror of attaching my real name to any of it.
I’ve actually enjoyed this weird weekend of slash fanfiction, sleep deprivation, mall shopping and cashiering. When I’m at work earning the $30 I’m going to piss away in considerably less time than I earn it, I feel slightly less useless, until I look at my bills and consider getting on a bus, leaving this place and changing my name. Fleeing from debt collectors…
I tried to start writing a proper memoir and it came out *horrible.* I started with berating my late mother, because I still haven’t forgiven her. Then I ended up defending The Musician, somehow, retelling my re-tell of the re-tell of the night we met. As if the night we met even really happened that way.
Today I was cashiering and thought back fondly -fondly!! – on the movie theater I worked at back in 2009. That seems insane to me, considering how miserable I was at the time.
What else? The slash I’ve been reading is probably incredibly OOC but it was such a turn-on anyway.
It made me reconsider going back to hook up with my friend, but I already complained to my grandmother at length about his negative qualities. What I perceive to be his negative qualities.
Ended up finally having a polite chat with The Photographer over Facebook and I blame all the smutty slash for making me recall last summer’s awful fling. And its positive qualities.
I’ve been writing over on Tumblr (bostoneris.tumblr.com) but not about anything particular and it’s pretty sparse, interjected between my usual countless “re-blogs.”
Anyway, hooked up with The Scientist on the 26th, which flabbergasted my grandmother and myself, as well, since there’s lots of reasons we aren’t compatible romantically.
It was the first time I’ve been with anyone since August, so like I told my followers on Tumblr (or, at least, anyone who read it) I acted like a nervous virgin.
TL;DR – Graphic sex that somehow manages to be boring under the cut
…how to describe this…nervousness?
TL;DR – This is a terrible, rambly entry about fanfiction. Trigger warning for briefly talking about rape-themed fanfics.
…that I have never been in love.
Romantic love has sometimes been called “a preoccupation with another person, to the point where the beloved’s needs are placed over one’s own,” and I have never once felt that. I have never had the feeling that someone else’s needs came before my own. I have always focused solely on my needs and what I want and what will give me comfort and pleasure.
I’m a monster…
(Even my love for my family has never been that strong. Last time my family needed me in a crisis, I was scared, and my first instinct was to run away so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. That didn’t go over well.)
Crossposted from Tumblr
Like the term “rewind.” The reason why, of course, going backwards in a video is called a “rewind” is because you had to literally “wind” the tape back on its spool.
(Sparingly, I still used and watched VHS tapes on up through my senior year of undergrad. So I kept a VCR lying around. There was one included inside my little CRT television set, and that was 2003! Things changed so rapidly in only ten years.)
(I exclusively used a similar, larger CRT television set from 2002 until this summer! Even after my family got themselves a ginormous rear projection CRT set, and then finally switched to an HD LCD screen. The family’s desktop computer still uses a CRT monitor, but the laptops are LCD, and iPads/mobile phones in the house are, of course, touchscreens. One person still has a flip phone, which I still used until two years ago. I miss flip phones, because, as someone pointed out, you could snap them open or shut and be sassy or angry. Lightly pressing a touchscreen when you’re angry will never be as satisfying as slamming down a receiver or flipping your mobile shut.)
Although that’s not so archaic to understand as some of these symbols we have on our computers…
6 Things Our Kids Just Plain Won’t Get
The “save” symbol is a little icon of a floppy disk, which got phased out and switched to CDs when I was a freshman or sophomore in high school, after the adoption of the CD. (Yes, yes, I’m old. Okay, so 28 isn’t really that old…)
The “call” symbol is in the shape of an old, landline telephone. (Which got phased out before I was born. When I was a child, we grew up with wired landline phones, but they had buttons, not a dial. And they were rectangular, not in the shape of a classic telephone. I’m also young enough to not remember when we started using an answering machine, but it must have been when I was a child.)
“Rewinding,” of course, made you seem like less of a douche when you returned a rented VHS tape to the Video Store. This was phased out when I was, yes, a freshman or sophomore in high school, after the adoption of the DVD. Be kind. Rewind!
The symbol for “email” is still of a paper envelope.
What’s fun about this list is it also points out how many things happened in movies and TV shows that could easily be avoided today, like the classic “Restaurant” episode of “Seinfeld.” Lacking a cell phone, the gang has to depend on the payphone inside the restaurant. Another example is, a few seasons later, the gang has to search for each other in a movie theater. In fact, a couple of movie theaters, because half of them went to the wrong one. What happens could have been easily avoided with cell phones.
The article also points out that it’s more difficult now to get lost, what with GPS and mobile maps.
“Hanging up” is another expression people will have to look up the origins for later on. When you put a phone back onto its wall mount, you literally end the call by inserting the receiver back onto its base. You hang it back up. I grew up with wall mounted phones.
I never experienced dial-up Internet, however. While my, frankly, poorer friends had dial-up, even through high school and until they left home for college, my family got high speed cable Internet when I was 12.
If we wanted to use the Web, we didn’t have to yell at each other about being able to use the phone at the same time. But “tying up the line” (which I assume comes from when telephone operators used wired plugs to connect customers to the lines of the people they wanted to call, and maybe they could get tangled??) was still an issue, with only one landline in the house.
(edit: And of course “dialing!” The way to make a phone call used to be with a round dial you spun.)