My computer's been toast for the past two weeks and I've been dealing with a bunch of crap (some of it self-inflicted, I'll admit), hence my appearing dead.

I know nobody cares about hockey, but I was stoked to see the three stars from yesterday's games. I am impressed by Heatley's hat trick, but Ehrhoff (a Shark last year) looks... skinny and creepy.

I'm sort of back-ish on WoW after a three and a half month hiatus. I haven't missed anything patchwise. However, I'm still as nubbish as before. I'm still working the kinks out of my UI.

I now work at the local library. I took a pay cut and dropped hours from my last job, but I see this as something I can be passionate about, something I can do for the long term (with a promotion or two, of course). I mean, really, the library. *happy dance*

I am, in some ways, a glutton for punishment.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I frequently ask for clarification. It's sometimes also known as playing stupid. I have a very bad habit of making assumptions, running off with my imagination, and otherwise making an implied mess of the unimplied world. To combat that sort of thing, I've developed an unusual persistence in getting to the bottom of things, knowing--really--why someone does what they do. It's nearly Buttons-and-Mindy bad. It saves on the drama, I swear.

And, even though I've only seen three episodes of it, an episode of Doctor Who made me cry. I sniffled in my girly place.

I dreamed I climbed up Zack's roof and threw coconuts at passers-by with James. We had only one rule in our bizarre game: don't hit children or dogs. Everyone else was fair game. And it was hilarious.

A coworker gave me some hockey cards. I've got cards for Marleau, Roenick, Brett Hull, Jagr, and some others. I nearly fell on the floor in surprise when I got them. <3

Quote of the day: "It's because, like, I care and shit."

It's hockey stupid funny. IS IT OCTOBER YET??

Work is going well. It's ridiculously easy. I can't believe I'll be making more, getting better benefits, and working more hours than at my last job. And, if I wanted, I could even get my own place (although that's kind of stupid considering I'm at James' all the time). Thank fuck I got fed up with my last job.

Complicated shit is complicated. I kind of want to ramble about it here, but it would take forever to explain the awkward details, I'd feel like a hussy (normally I'd say "shameless hussy" but it's more like guilt than shame), and it wouldn't solve anything. I can't make the complication go away unless I withdraw my feelings (best of luck to that) or there's some third party action. I guess all I can do is put my best--and most accurate--face forward and hope an opportunity arrives. I know better, though, than wait around forever for said opportunity. I am capable of moving on, and I will if things don't go as wished. Sorry for being vague. I'm dancing around things to make them easier to say.

James and I are still inseparable. I think it helps that he's kind of a homebody and I don't like being at home (not out of anything negative on the parts of my parents, but more like the fact that I hate feeling settled). We do practically everything together. I'm thankful he puts up with me as often and for as long as he does. Although something critical is missing, I won't stress over it. It would just cause problems.

I pulled together some samples of my writing from college. I wanted to show James some of my (outdated) stuff.

Holy shit, Sash believes in emails. I haven't gotten one from him in, like, a year and a half. I was elated to see he'd written, but communicating with him doesn't have the over-the-moon feeling it used to. This is a very good thing, as I have a terrible habit of freakishly obsessing over people, hanging on their every word and wracking my brain when things aren't perfect.
"No need to miss me I am sure will [sic] cross paths again." Maybe, Sash. I'm optimistic, but I won't bet on it.

A few days ago, my dad said that God peers over the shoulder of Stephen Hawking and takes notes. "So that's how I did it!" my dad says God mutters occasionally.

In a related vein, I'm fairly certain Carl Sagan's sperm were more intelligent than many people alive today.

Work is significantly less intimidating, although the training is incredibly boring. I can't believe I'm being paid as much as I am to nod off in class. It's kind of embarrassing.

I'd preface this with some verbose rambling to diffuse any potential shock, disgust, or disappointment, but some things are just best said directly: I like boys. And girls. I identify as bisexual. I am as I have always been.

I am so pliable. I love Margaret Cho. I am so glad to be back in contact with my favorite cousin (<3 Andrea).

I'm playing around with admitting something, but I don't know if the time is right. I mean, I'm pretty sure it's true. I haven't actually tested it; I haven't come across the right catalyst to "prove" it. But perhaps it isn't something that I have to do in order to be--what if I know in my heart that it's true and that's good enough? I need strength. And perhaps some time. And the catalyst to move me to be honest with myself and the world around me.

FARK I DON'T KNOW.

I know this, I know this. It is a sin to waste one's life away waiting for something improbable to occur. Not only will I never get that time back, I will suffer regret. My greatest regrets are the ones in which I had the choice to act and did not. I would be stupid to do it again. But it's so damn easy sometimes to let go of control of my life, relegate that control to other people or my very emotions. Not only does it allow me to float through life, if things go wrong I simply assign blame to an external force. It is not right and I know it. It's so hard to change, though.

I apologize in advance if you're not into cat macros, but a source of terribly nerdy pride overcame me this evening when I noticed one of my captions made the ICHC website. Yes, I am that pathetic. But I kind of like it that way.

( ZOMG Sharkies shockers )

( on James )

Are there some songs that strike you? That feel like they mean something to you? That seem like they're drawing on your very soul? Perhaps I assign too much meaning arbitrarily. Life seems more fun that way.

Carob smells naughty.

I've been tossing an idea around in my head for a story for a few months now. The superficial details change--the main character's background, travel destinations, etc.--but overall I'm trying to express the loneliness of the objective self in the subjective universe, the nature of absurdism, and paths to achieving meaning in a world without meaning. I'm sure this looks like heady stuff for a story, but I think it's a great way to make absurdist philosophy readily accessible. I'm very interested in weaving together a fascinating and yet moderately unlikable main character: the most recent incarnation is brilliant but proud and directionless, a condescending Cornell sophomore taking a year off ostensibly to determine what to major in but actually in search of finding meaning.

Normally I never do poetry. My last poetry kick was an angst-ridden lyrical tirade in high school, a poor fiddling with free verse. However, over the course of a days-long Lorca binge--itself an anomaly considering I detest poetry--I felt inspired to pen something. I've had on my mind a moth I saw days ago, and I felt connected to it in several ways. This is just a draft.

( can you dig it? )

FAAAARK. I am cut.

I have a few ideas as to where I'd like to apply for grad school for writing. I was considering USyd, but their application process simply required too much stuff I didn't have (like 50 pages of a novel). I was considering UNL, but they didn't have exactly what I was looking for. I was considering VCU, but I was worried Potato would harass me and I'd wind up dating him out of pity. I've still got UC Davis bouncing around in my head, but I got cut by Josh because he wanted nothing to do with me if I were in the area. I really wanted to hang out with him to talk hockey.

Oh, and I so won't be able to go to Australia any time soon. Double cut.

So the good news is that I'm doing what I should've done all along. But, you know, I so wasn't ready for it four years ago. I am now. I've got this. Now.

EDIT: Continuing on the cut theme, I got a haircut on Saturday. It looks freaking fantastic. I am now practically incapable of having a bad hair day. I'll take pictures when I'm less cut and otherwise capable of looking emo.

Unusual day. Had the manager immediately above me refuse to accept my resignation letter (can she do that?). Laughed my ass off about my ass with James (I nearly killed him with funny). Did something I never thought I'd do (and it was awesome).

I had a moment of clarity today when I was flopped over on the bed at James' place, my face half-buried in James' upper arm. I had no trains of thought. I could not divert myself to the thousands of potential mental tangents I deal with daily. I existed, for once, in the present. Simply, I was. It was a beautiful series of moments.

I feel incredibly full but not of food.

So a fellow I've got my eye on is going to be in New Zealand for the majority of next month. I'm going to miss him something stupid. Not like Sash stupid, but still significantly below normal.

I NEED TO COMPLETE AND TURN IN MY APPLICATION FFS.

I made a terrible lapse of judgment earlier this month. I was hoping to bury it and move on, but over the past day and a half it's been biting me in the ass. Here's to hoping I can prevent further damage and fix what I have caused harm.

I'm enjoying fiddling around with NHL 08. However, I can't help but feel very sorry for Vincent Lecavalier and Jarome Iginla, with whom I practice on the shootout minigame. As much as I enjoy the spin deke, I worry that I'm giving the two of them at best a raging headache.

I feel more me in this natural state. This is Erin without dilution. No artificial preservatives, colors, or flavors.

( on James )

I got in contact with Josh yesterday and found out he's training to play hockey. Isn't that badass? I can't wait to get a picture of him on the ice. Crazy thing is, the first time he went skating was last year when I took him to the local rink. Fifteen minutes after lacing up, he was doing circles around me. He was always good at everything, apparently now including hockey. I used to get jealous of this natural all-around skill...

Compy was in the shop for a week, so I couldn't post or look at old entries or anything. I've got a lot of catch up reading to do. MUST post more when I get time, as a ton of stuff has happened.

( I am thankful I am not a stranger in my own head. )

Scooting some drama out of the way, I can now breathe easier. I got in too deep and have learned from it.

My sister might go to jail. The maximum sentence for her guilty plea is eighteen months. She's got a court date tomorrow (the beginning of the biggest charge). I'm a little worried, as I don't know what to think of all of this. How will this affect Chass?

The idea that redheads have fewer hairs on their head than blondes and brunettes is a dirty lie. I'm like my German Shepherds; not only do we not stop shedding, we never run out of replacement hair. My hair winds up everywhere and yet I'm not bald. How does that work??

Also, cake + soda = ideal post-work meal. >.>

( this little piggy )

I am ADDICTED to this place's soups and Greek salads. It is not right how often I swing by this place during work and on my days off.

( C'est du chinois. )