(no subject)

Today I am downright gleeful about the upcoming movie Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Gleeful, I tell you.

I think my day-to-day life doesn't contain enough action to generate something about which I can post, and my deep and inner life (snerk) follows a couple well-worn paths that sounds deeply self-indulgent, "following a course henceforth nefast" and all.

I parcel my day up into little chunks, half an hour of reading/internetting, half an hour of cleaning, half an hour of studying. I'm fond of wrangling the passage of time, it makes me feel less like I have the opportunity to slip into melancholy. I, or my mood, still sometimes slip through the cracks, and it definitely seems harder to keep my mood up now that my thumb aches and restr

Light and I are pursuing life insurance from outside sources, rather than through his workplace, and they have recently sent me questionnaires in which I have to detail both my history as a depressive and my history as an alcoholic. I am avoiding these pieces of paper like the plague. I cried both times I opened the envelopes (they arrived two days apart). I think it's the experience of being judged as a risk, or possible that my less-than-tidy history will actually have a negative impact on Light (in the form of more expensive life insurance) and really, I barely understand why I need life insurance at all.

I think I'm making the hallway up to our living area a gallery-of-Mech since he has a set of pictures of a rustedout ship wreck from Australia that I think are the coolest thing ever. He spent the night last night, and there was Boggle and Star Munchkin and some watching of Puppy Bowl. I like having him around, a lot.

I wonder sometimes, about my feeling about privacy and shared space. Some part of me would love to have another friendly and mildly accountable person living with or near us, that I could feed and clean up after and he/she would exchange similar goods and services, such as boggle games and talking me down from my moments of frozen anxiety and buying me exotic ingredients to play with (oh, vanilla beans). Some part of me would probably stab said person in the face within a couple months. It has something to do with modes of friendship, I think, but I'm not sure. Sometimes, I think I'm getting the hang of having friends, and sometimes it feels like 90% of my interactions with people other than Light are on their terms and I get crotchety. (this isn't about anyone in particular)

But now, more Jim Butcher and then more sweeping, punctuated with thumb icing.

(no subject)

Today I am downright gleeful about the upcoming movie Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Gleeful, I tell you.

I think my day-to-day life doesn't contain enough action to generate something about which I can post, and my deep and inner life (snerk) follows a couple well-worn paths that sounds deeply self-indulgent, "following a course henceforth nefast" and all.

I parcel my day up into little chunks, half an hour of reading/internetting, half an hour of cleaning, half an hour of studying. I'm fond of wrangling the passage of time, it makes me feel less like I have the opportunity to slip into melancholy. I, or my mood, still sometimes slip through the cracks, and it definitely seems harder to keep my mood up now that my thumb aches and restr

Light and I are pursuing life insurance from outside sources, rather than through his workplace, and they have recently sent me questionnaires in which I have to detail both my history as a depressive and my history as an alcoholic. I am avoiding these pieces of paper like the plague. I cried both times I opened the envelopes (they arrived two days apart). I think it's the experience of being judged as a risk, or possible that my less-than-tidy history will actually have a negative impact on Light (in the form of more expensive life insurance) and really, I barely understand why I need life insurance at all.

I think I'm making the hallway up to our living area a gallery-of-Mech since he has a set of pictures of a rustedout ship wreck from Australia that I think are the coolest thing ever. He spent the night last night, and there was Boggle and Star Munchkin and some watching of Puppy Bowl. I like having him around, a lot.

I wonder sometimes, about my feeling about privacy and shared space. Some part of me would love to have another friendly and mildly accountable person living with or near us, that I could feed and clean up after and he/she would exchange similar goods and services, such as boggle games and talking me down from my moments of frozen anxiety and buying me exotic ingredients to play with (oh, vanilla beans). Some part of me would probably stab said person in the face within a couple months. It has something to do with modes of friendship, I think, but I'm not sure. Sometimes, I think I'm getting the hang of having friends, and sometimes it feels like 90% of my interactions with people other than Light are on their terms and I get crotchety. (this isn't about anyone in particular)

But now, more Jim Butcher and then more sweeping, punctuated with thumb icing.