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So my weekends suck once again. The Giants walked over San Francisco today, but it will probably be another 2-3 weeks until I can watch it. I am still in the middle of watching the absolute meltdown against the Browns. Anyway, the meals yesterday were alright, but not something I look forward to doing on a regular basis. It seems that Lauraapos;s friends, if not out and out vegetenarians, are still of the crunchy granola type, or the smelly barnard lesbian type, and it wears thin soon. Also, too many of them are unionized, and have warped views of what it is to actually work for a living. And did I mention the food wasnapos;t exactly what I am used to expecting. Oh well. For tomorrow nightapos;s dinner itapos;s just the 3 of us, huddled in the cold, eating good food that was store boughten myself. Joy of joys, dream of dreams. For tonight, I got someone to take over my position. As I get older, I care less. Tomorrow is a return to the before 5:00 a.m. Wakeup, which should be okay because I go straight to the Bronx in the morning, the hell with my undone work. I also head straight out to the Island first thing in the morning on Thursday, so not a lot of office time this week. Next week, I really need to get discovery out in my insurance case, and I have a conference with the Surrogate first thing Monday morning, an after hours deposition Monday evening, and a dentist appoint ment Tueday. On Wednesday and Thursday, I am busy all day defending a deposition,and then and then and then. Anyway, we shall see.

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�If I spend 2 weeks being perfectly well behaved, I will be 2 weeks prettier and 2 weeks stronger. It can only get better from there. 2 weeks is a nice test.�

I believe in Winter. I believe in the cave of turtlenecks that protects us from the harsh world. I believe in dark, short days. I�believe in tea. I�believe in coffee and apple season and orange�season. I�believe in .... Curling up with a good book. For sure.�
I am fapos;ing crazy. Whatapos;s the point; right?�

I will survive. I am not afraid of winter holidays. I�am not afraid of .... Weather. Ok, so I�am afraid of weather. Weatherapos;s kind of gross.�

I want a new winter coat. I am thinking navy or chocolate brown, full length, wool. A lot of bills to pay first.

I just turned on the heat for the first time of the season. We have a high in the 50s in Philadelphia today. I better figure out how to use the humidifier, this year. Lizards are so 5 minutes ago.�

I want magic fairies to clean my apartment. Not just any fairies, MAGIC fairies, damn it�Accept no substitute�

Ok, enough ranting. Thank you for putting up with me.�

be good, ladies. We have so much promise I promise. Oh, and if I find the magic fairies, I�promise to share

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I wish there was a way that I could just stop time forever
Screwing up the best thing ever is something youapos;ll regret forever
Another sleepless night and nothing changed.a tragedy indeed.


Fear can drive stick and itapos;s taking me down this road
A road down which I swore Iapos;d never go and here I sit thinking of God knows what
Afraid to admit i might self-destruct.Destroying everything I loved and the worst part is i actually pull my heart out, reconstruct it.
And in the end itapos;s nothing but the shell of what I had when I first started.


and runaway with me, will you.
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At 6:30 a.m., my smoke detectorapos;s battery died. �I knew this because the smoke detector started chirping--loudly. �At this point in time I should probably point out that my apartment has very high ceilings, and not just from a short personapos;s perspective. �In other words, there is no way for someone to reach our smoke detectors without the aid of a ladder. �Needless to say, at 6:30 in the morning, there was no "someone" in the house except myself (other Rachel is home for the weekend). �And there was no ladder. �It was also 6:30 in the morning, and I was not happy to be awake.

I crawled out of bed, and went to get a chair and the Swiffer. �I positioned the chair and climbed up, Swiffer in hand. �Then, I aimed a few light taps at the smoke detector. �Chirp chirp chirp. �Frustrated, I banged the Swiffer against the side of the detector. �I was hoping that the front would pop off, thus enabling me to get at the battery. �No popping occurred, but the chirping stopped. �Pleased with myself, I hopped back into bed.

Cue 8 a.m. �Chirp, chirp, chirp. �Apparently my smoke detector had unbroken itself and was going to chirp until someone replaced its battery. �I got out of bed, and went to get the chair Iapos;d put back in the living room. �Then I went and got another chair, and a barstool. �Reminding myself that this was probably a really dumb thing to do, I balanced the barstool on top of a chair, and leaned the two against the wall. �Then, using chair number two, I climbed up my tower and prayed for life. �Teetering, tottering, I reached the smoke detector, unscrewed it, and let the front face and the battery fall to the floor. �Gingerly, I climbed down. �Then I put the chairs away, got in bed, and slept until 1:30. �Rachel: 1, Smoke detector: 0. �If the one in the living room starts chirping, weapos;re really in trouble, because the ceilings are even higher there, and there are no walls to balance against. �That, and I think a chair and two of our barstools might be required, and thereapos;s no way Iapos;d be able to climb that and not suffer a broken something.

I could have used the sleep last night. �Aside from the fact that I had a few beers at Crown and Anchor, Iapos;ve been up late this week working on applications for grants and fellowships. �Iapos;m currently filling out one application that requires a curriculum vita. �Considering the fact that Iapos;ve attended no conferences and published...nothing, I am engaged in the delightful project of glorifying my resume and turning it into a CV. �Also, pretending that the Vassar History Review and Gulliver count as real publications. �William and Mary Quarterly, Vassar History Review. �Same thing, really. �Please give me money, fellowship people. �I knew I was really panicked when I dreamt that the graduate adviser was giving me a ride to the airport and questioning me on my research goals. �At least in the dream, I got the fellowship.

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So, my face is currently under construction.
Sort of.
It feels like it.

My dermatologist put me on another topical gel thing, on top of the other topical cream stuff and the antibiotics.
Before I continue with my complaints about this, I have to say that Iapos;ve already seen an improvement in regards to the alleged acne in the last five days of using it. (I actually donapos;t have a problem, Iapos;m just allergic to everything under the sun when it comes to skin, so I canapos;t really keep my face clean enough to avoid a problem)

Now on to my complaints...
MY FACE FUCKING HURTS HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
Last night, I was so scared I was going to wake up and look like...well, this.



Iapos;m not even kidding, I felt like my skin was burning off and melting away and evaporating off my face, oh my god.

I canapos;t even make a facial expression without something stinging, much less touch it. And it started to sting a little around my eyes the other day, and Iapos;m certain thatapos;s not a good thing, but that stopped, so thatapos;s ok.

So now Iapos;m sitting here, with an ice pack on my face, because it lessens the burning sensation. Sort of. Not really.

I expect things will get better...luckily, I donapos;t even care that my face is rejecting itself for the whole world to see.

I guess Iapos;m having too much fun doing other things. Progress Hooray
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Oh woes. A deep searing blackness in the sea of grey. A sniff of the magnificent scented greatness beyond the milky river. But the wood be rotten and the will be torn. Why, a sempiternal light, enchanting and spellbinding in its grand splendour. Be it the yellow brick road? Nay, but fools gold it be, engulfing the very red and black that encompasses my soul. A suffering far greater is brought upon; but is it worth the brief glimpses of majesty? My mind and soul longs for the light to stop hiding and greet me, present me with some semblence of hope, but my dreams are dashed as the light gives me one last enthralling view before disappearing.

Oh woes. Pure dispair. The black and red were separate entities prior to this disaster. Now they are a toxic concoction, a despicable virus hell-bent on eating away my very soul. Pain, the grey, the black, the red and the light. I spy a cascading fountain of water, a lighthouse positioned delicately above. Surely this be an illusion. I pause. Then turn away. And I cry, I weep tears of sorrow; why do clouds mock me so?

(Note: This entire piece is meant to be a parody/ mockery of all those blog posts by teens who think that their lives are shit and that they need to write in such a manner that everything in the post is a utter confusing mess. I mean, come on, you have a damn problem, just say it out. Thereapos;s no need to dress your problems in a cloak of obscurity to simply frustrate people who just want to help or are curious about your situation. Even I am guilty of this sometimes, but Iapos;m slowly trying to coax myself out of the habit. Itapos;s all part of teenage angst, sure, but at least make your problems evident to the reader. If you donapos;t want people knowing about your problem, just donapos;t post some puddle of words for the reader to try wade through to discern your problem.)

P.S. Yes, this disgusting vat of words describes some of the emotions Iapos;m currently experiencing, but good luck to figuring them out.
Hint: The light isnapos;t to do with enlightenment, or religion, but about finding something.



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BYOU
(October 17, 2008 @ 12:28)
--------------

Iapos;m SCREWapos;s vocalist Byou.

Today ameblo started.
I want to update with daily happenings according to my mood of the moment.
The persons who are here for the first time
Also the persons who are cheering on me
Also the persons loving me
Also the persons hating me
Also the persons who are right now fast asleep
Please associate variously with me.

Occasionally be cautious *laughs*
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