(no subject)

I'm having a bad hippie-chick moment. Wasps, of a long-legged sort, have decided to build a nest somewhere inside my car door. I know this because the past few times I've used my car, upon my return home I am greeted by a 2-6 wasp swarm which, as soon as my car turns off, crawl into a very small hole where my side view mirror meets the door frame. Also, when I drive away, at least one of the beasties emerges, flies inside my car and generally freaks me out. I should investigate happy, green ways of getting them the hell out of my car, but in the end, I just want them dead and gone.

I'm adjusting remarkably well to being unemployed, (I think) and the fact that I find this both comfortable and comforting makes me anxious. I spend the days cleaning (anyone in the 14-18 size range want some seriously odd clothing?), reading, messing around on the computer, exercising and playing the wii, and I can't imagine what it will be like to go back to work. I assume, in a couple more weeks, some switch will flip and I'll be unable to entertain myself adequately, or I'll snap from the lack of human contact (today I talked to three whole people in person (the man at the library, who actually talked to me about the book I was getting, the man at the post office, and the person running the drop-in clinic at Webs) yesterday, I only saw Light) and going back to work will be a charming, pleasant idea. Until then, I feel like my ability to enjoy not working is a moral failing.

I think I might be lonely, but not in any way which I wish to remedy. I'm sure I've had sustained alone time at some point in my life, but since I've been some combination of working, in school, and living with someone else for the entirety of my life, I think these spaces in which I'm required to find ways to occupy myself might be a first.

Talking to Chile this weekend (seeing her was, as per usual, absolutely awesome), I realized that my relationship with my air conditioner is sadly symbolic of my relationship with much of the world. I don't turn it on, because I think doing so is some sort of weak-willed-ness, so I'm miserable and uncomfortable, and then someone else (usually Light) comes along, turns it on, so I become comfortable, but convinced I've somehow failed. (Mind you, the person turning on the air conditioning doesn't fail, this logic is entirely selfcentered.) Lather, rinse, repeat. I'm pretty sure this would be a healthy thing to be able to step outside of, but have yet to figure out a way to do so. Oh, self-care.

I'm going to make both onion rolls and chocolate cinnamon ice cream tomorrow. It shall be a glorious day.

(no subject)

I'm having a bad hippie-chick moment. Wasps, of a long-legged sort, have decided to build a nest somewhere inside my car door. I know this because the past few times I've used my car, upon my return home I am greeted by a 2-6 wasp swarm which, as soon as my car turns off, crawl into a very small hole where my side view mirror meets the door frame. Also, when I drive away, at least one of the beasties emerges, flies inside my car and generally freaks me out. I should investigate happy, green ways of getting them the hell out of my car, but in the end, I just want them dead and gone.

I'm adjusting remarkably well to being unemployed, (I think) and the fact that I find this both comfortable and comforting makes me anxious. I spend the days cleaning (anyone in the 14-18 size range want some seriously odd clothing?), reading, messing around on the computer, exercising and playing the wii, and I can't imagine what it will be like to go back to work. I assume, in a couple more weeks, some switch will flip and I'll be unable to entertain myself adequately, or I'll snap from the lack of human contact (today I talked to three whole people in person (the man at the library, who actually talked to me about the book I was getting, the man at the post office, and the person running the drop-in clinic at Webs) yesterday, I only saw Light) and going back to work will be a charming, pleasant idea. Until then, I feel like my ability to enjoy not working is a moral failing.

I think I might be lonely, but not in any way which I wish to remedy. I'm sure I've had sustained alone time at some point in my life, but since I've been some combination of working, in school, and living with someone else for the entirety of my life, I think these spaces in which I'm required to find ways to occupy myself might be a first.

Talking to Chile this weekend (seeing her was, as per usual, absolutely awesome), I realized that my relationship with my air conditioner is sadly symbolic of my relationship with much of the world. I don't turn it on, because I think doing so is some sort of weak-willed-ness, so I'm miserable and uncomfortable, and then someone else (usually Light) comes along, turns it on, so I become comfortable, but convinced I've somehow failed. (Mind you, the person turning on the air conditioning doesn't fail, this logic is entirely selfcentered.) Lather, rinse, repeat. I'm pretty sure this would be a healthy thing to be able to step outside of, but have yet to figure out a way to do so. Oh, self-care.

I'm going to make both onion rolls and chocolate cinnamon ice cream tomorrow. It shall be a glorious day.