Job Shit Update

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. 



New Year’s Eve 2013

Went out tonight to see the Scientist’s friend’s band play. Goaded the Bicyclist and his friend into driving out to Worcester to see them play so I could kiss the Scientist at midnight!

Got to kiss him and damn, it’s the first midnight kiss I’ve had in years.

What happens now? Fuck, who knows.

Had a fun time at the concert dancing and listening to music. Turns out Bike knew one of the Scientist’s friends because he dated a girl who used to live with his girlfriend. The guy whipped out a photo of Bike from three years ago that he had on his smartphone, or on Facebook or something. The world is shrinking progressively smaller!

Anyway I had a fun time hanging out with Bike and his friend. Then when I wouldn’t shut up about the Scientist they said they’d *force* him to kiss me at midnight if it came down to it!

I ended up drinking a glass of sparkling wine as well so, plus the Lamictal, I ended up a little loopy. Laaaame.

Ok wtf am I watching? I’ve never seen this episode of American Dad before and it’s one that’s weird as hell.

New Year Resolutions – Part One



3) *ahem* Just in case you didn’t hear me, Eris, go get a real fucking job.

4) Stop writing and posting Mad Queen fanfiction. Ohhhh my god, you look like a psycho.

5) Resume your physical therapy! Jeez!

6) HOWEVER…don’t have ~sexual relations~ again until you’re in love, or in a committed relationship. Fuckin’ seriously.

7) Exercise! You’re supposed to be doing that everyday along with your physical therapy shit anyway. It’s part of it.

8) Diet, while you’re at it.

9) Did I mention you need to stop writing and posting Mad Queen fanfiction, because it’s starting to make you look like a crazy person.

10) Speaking of “crazy,” you need to get a handle on your Internet addiction as soon as fucking possible (she said on the Internet)…

Vulvodynia and fantasy

I am very grateful I used to have good sex.

That’s entirely unrelated to my other two posts below, but it’s rather significant because…I dunno. It just is.

I can still remember what good sex used to feel like, and I use that in my fantasies. And I use that in fiction and nonfiction. And I use it when I daydream and when I masturbate. And I use it to gauge what feels good and what used to if I’m in bed with someone. I think about/joke about how The Stoner, back freshman year of undergrad, could just spit on his hand and go to it. We would sneak away to public places, or merely stay in his room when his roommate was away, or mine when she was. One time we gleefully (many times, we gleefully) sexiled her and scrambled for our clothes. Sexiling was an unfortunate consequence for many people of rooming with someone who was sexually active. “Ted’s” annoyance with The Musician began when that boy became sexually active upon his arrival at UMass, bedding half the woodwind section. Ted warned me against sleeping with him, but I did anyway. Unrelated, The Musician commented on a status entry I just made on Facebook. I’m sure he didn’t even realize who he was commenting on. Oftentimes I don’t even look at the names, either. But it still raises my eyebrows because I don’t have him appear in my own News Feed. (I sort of keep him there to keep tabs on him, make sure he hasn’t succumbed to cancer, and because I have my own cancer – that of still being, inside, obsessed with him, seven years later.)

Regardless, The Musician used to sexile people, I used to sexile people, everybody at some point got sexiled. I was sexiled. Everyone had to deal with sharing a bedroom in all kinds of ways. Usually we put ties or socks on the door. I always forgot to do that. Ted told me The Musician was courteous enough to leave such a symbol. It was the biggest wedge between friends/acquaintances at UMass.

People would joke that Sylvan had the highest rate of sexual activity, and that was mainly because, before North got built, it was the residence area with the most “singles.” (Rooms with one occupant/one bed.)

Everyone would always apply on the housing lottery for singles and cross their fingers. The only reason I got one senior year was because a mysterious young man in my favored building moved out. Two weeks later I was in like Flynn (wtf expression is that? oh well). I had a sloping ceiling, because I was on the top floor, and much like my room in England, I had no screen on my window. If it opened, it opened. I had no shades so I hung up a curtain. The same one I used to hang back over in Orchard Hill.

(Damn, my old habit on here of disguising every single location and name has certainly been given up very easily.)

(My roommate in OHill always refused to put up a curtain for her cubby, which was problematic because the door opened right into it. Ugh.)

I was reading sex advice, because I am a masochist who likes to feel sorry for myself (although, really, I was reading about masturbation and oral sex, which I can still do with vulvodynia, so whatever), and it said to make certain not to use spit, because the bacteria can lead to yeast infections. Fun.

But it’s still funny that I could bend over and The Stoner could just – if I wasn’t wet enough – spit in his hand and use that as lube and we’d go at it. It’s quite funny and refreshing, nine years later, that I used to be able to do that. It makes it very mysterious that I cannot, anymore. And awful. There are women who, for whatever reason that can be stuck under the umbrella of “vulvodynia,” have never been able to have good sex. I think I should feel grateful, but I don’t. It’s like feeling grateful I don’t have full blown Bipolar I. I’ve always been bipolar, and it’s fucking awful, but then people are like, “At least you never tried to kill yourself.”


“At least you’re not on Lithium.”

“At least you used to be able to have quickies in bathrooms and have fun and be in love.”


Life is unfair and you can think, “Woe is me,” or you can actually follow your physical therapist and gynecologist’s treatment plans and do something about it. At least you can suck it up and think, “At least I finally took control years and years later and got some actual, professional advice about what’s wrong with my vagina.” Same goes for the brain. “Better on meds now. Better late than never.”

But fuck that. No. Life is unfair. Fuck it. I can feel sorry for myself if I want. I always fantasized about the mind-blowing sex every human wishes/fantasizes they can have. I can’t do it, really. Not easily. There are all these caveats. Even making it “good” again would be an achievement.

Even making myself get off fucking Tumblr and AO3 would be an improvement.

Even taking control of my life would be an improvement.

Who could I have “good” sex with anyway, even if my vagina “worked?” Nobody sleeps with a “nobody.”

Maybe I’m crazy, or just making excuses

It’s sickening how lazy I am.

TL;DR – Eris misses The Kid, she can get a teaching job, she’s lazy and a user. Blah blah blah grad school.

When I left my hometown to get my masters degree, I was convinced it would be the catalyst for change that I needed. I would walk into those doors and discover the real Eris. One who was confident and could utilize her talents doing something fulfilling or at the very least something that made me money.

I would be forced to “grow up” by my stacking bills, and borrowed loan after borrowed loan. I would be living on my own, again, with a roommate from the school. I would pad across those wooden floors thinking, “This is MY house, and it is my responsibility.” I would bend down over books and study my ass off, spend time at the school shooting video and editing them into pieces of art. I would go to New York City and become an artist and eat ramen and find myself waiting there like the real Eris always was.

I would not end up back home lying in bed wandering waking dreams and wishing I was back in 2010 and not applying to school at all.

I worked at a store, back then, and I wasn’t on meds but I definitely had the option to start. I was surrounded by encouraging people also at a loss of what to do. I had no debt.

I kept thinking, “This is my last chance,” and signed up to take the GRE, whether I’d use it or not. I had been out of undergrad for three years, been to open houses for schools, and even dragged The Mechanic to an open house once. I think. Or maybe he just drove me.

(Years later I’d be at a party thrown by the rental house I worked at this summer and see the “dean” of that trade school there munching on barbecue chicken. I pulled my coworker aside and asked, “Who is that?” and was told. It brought memories from 2009 rushing back.)

I was convinced that a year at that trade school would be just what I needed to push myself back into the working world…

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Eris’ life, Discworld life, Ex-boyfriends and novellas

I have researched Tumblr far and wide!

(By which I mean actually looking at pretty and funny fanart, official art, and all kinds of fun stuff until a very late hour even though I’m supposed to get up early for my new exercise regime…)

I have tried to figure out what people found out about Rincewind’s life because I can’t ask Pterry myself and I don’t know if he said.

I didn’t read a bunch of the books so I don’t know what the potato thing is about.

I mean YES I know the potato thing, oh yes, we all know the potato thing.

But is it Word of God (that’s a fandom term for: “Oh hey Joss Whedon said this is canon and you shall not divert”, for example), that Rincewind is/was a virgin? (Because apparently according to Tumblr he’s shacking up with Ponder.)

Not that it matters. You can still, certainly, lose your virginity to Ponder. Feel free. He’s not doin’ anything down there with Hex. You will probably have to convince him, though.

I imagine Ponder could be gay. (I can’t imagine Rincewind gay except in regards to the whole Ponder slash!fic thing, I guess, maybe, possibly. I just read Sourcery again and so that doesn’t make any sense to me.)

And I imagine hooking up with Ponder would be almost as exhaustingly difficult (as in, trying to get that person actually out on a date or actually into bed) as it would be to try to hook up with Rincewind. Whatever age they are, in whatever universe.

I can imagine Ponder actually drawing up, maybe, some kind of pro/con list, and using very logical arguments for why they should shag, and Rincewind would just be like, dude, I just need to not feel like the world’s going to drop out from under me. Again. Like, breaking his heart would just be the needle that breaks the camel’s back at that point. Boring and safe, I think, is a life he embraced and then it all went topsy turvy as soon as Twoflower walked into his life and has/had never been the same since. And couldn’t be. Lady Luck (excuse me! She Who Shall Not Be Named) is his patron goddess. (Patroness?) And Lady Luck is a bitch.

What’s my point? Ponder slash? I could see a gay Ponder, although I remember he was like, “Wut?” about Macarona. (His name is Macarona. Yes, I know I’m supposed to write out all his titles as well, but let’s just say Macarona. He’s got a name like the dance. I’m almost positive that’s intentional. If it isn’t, I’m shocked.)

But one slasher was saying on her Tumblr blog, “Hang on, Rincewind having used to have sex (i.e. in the past) WAS RETCONNED?” And she was like, “That’s outrageous! What’s all this potato stuff!”

(Yes, he’s attracted to potatoes, but we mean before the whole potato nonsense. Before Sourcery! He’s trying very hard not to want to get in Conina’s pants throughout that book.)

I suppose more to the point that I don’t know tone or style or anything Pterry anyway, so it’s no point in telling the ether that I would even write fanfiction anymore for any fandom. I used to write the strangest stuff! I started when I was just a kid, even before I had access to a computer and briefly had just a typewriter. And YES, of course, notebooks. A pen and paper is all you really need in life. Well, yeah, and food. And shelter. And etc etc. And other people’s books and movies would help. And something to do, work, a hobby. And a lover. And a family’s nice, and even a dog. But you know what I mean. When you’re alone, at a loss, you just pick up a pad and pen and you’re all set. Off you go.

That was something a couple of my ex-boyfriends were into. My ex, Navy, as he’s called on here, wrote a novella! It was a fantasy story as well, and I read a couple of chapters but mainly his difficulty – and his joy! – was in trying to make it have a fully realized world of his own making, with its own rules. But we were only sixteen years old, and it’s hard. But eleven years later it’s still hard, so what do I know?

The Engineer (who I had to stop following on Facebook because all he ever talks about is his live-in girlfriend), wrote a book as well, in a similar manner to Navy. A novella. About dragons! What other things I can gather creeping on Facebook was that he was always a writer – I mean, he told me that way back when we were…were we dating? let’s just say sleeping together, and I was like, “Okay, Engineer, I will edit your first three chapters.” But then I never did, and he forgot anyway, and it’s okay. Fast forward to our late twenties and he’s involved with poetry nights and readings and things, and I can only assume that he continued writing. Maybe real life, maybe dragons. Navy didn’t end up writing about wizards and magic anymore, though, but I’m sure he’d look back fondly on it if you asked him.

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