I'm having flashbacks. Every piece of wandering lint, every fleck of dust, every trick of the eye is a mosquito coming to hunt me down. It's a cruel world out there, kids, and it's smack or be bitten. I was like a robot, perfectly trained to attack even the most wiley of them, and the battle ground was a graveyard by the time I was done. It was a hopeless battle, but I hung in there to the bitter end.
West Nile virus, here I come!
I actually didn't get bitten that much, thanks to the greasy, chemical miracle that is OFF! I'm almost certain that shit causes cancer, or at least results in ew-y backne.
I kind of feel like I went to prison and became somebody's bitch, had all of my dignity and self-worth tossed just out of reach of my cell, and now I'm a puppet. Family reunions will do that to you. I cried twice, once the minute we arrived at the resort and there were several spiders there to greet me, and again when I was taking a shower on Sunday and there wasn't enough water pressure to get the soap foamy and I was frustrated and pissed off and upset so I cried. My mother, ever helpful, poked her head in and screamed, "Are you CRYING?! WHY are you CRYING?!" Then she laughed at me. No, seriously.
Great senses of humor, this family.
On the last night, when everyone was gathered in our room, the grandparents got up and gave speeches about how to live life and memories of each kid and grandkid. Other people got things like, "We're proud of you because you pay cash for everything" and other poignant memories. I got, "She's such a great driver," and "Remember when you said creep instead of crepe?" Yes. Yes, I do.
The night officially ended when an aunt said cheerfully, "So, when are we going to do this again?" I thought she was joking, but I was wrong. The next family reunion is set for two years from now in TENNESSEE. TENNESSEE. I will be sending my regrets.
On a brighter note, Aaron is constantly surprising me. I came home to a ridiculously clean apartment, a new stuffed animal (the Corgy from Cowboy Bebop -- he got me a little Inuyasha doll to cuddle with for the trip...have I mentioned that I'm a closet anime freak? Ah, the memories of Sailor Moon...I was deliriously obsessed), and oodles of affection. He randomly surprised me yesterday when he said, "You know what book we have to get? The Alchemist." Apparently, it's one of his favorite books -- that, and Fahrenheit 451, books I'd avoided reading because everyone who read them in high school said they were achingly dull. Of course, I now know that everything is achingly dull when you have to analyze every fucking word.
I have my very first dentist appointment in over a year today. My wisdom teeth are coming in -- I can actually see the white, shrouded by gooey pink gums -- and they hurt something fierce. I don't think I'll have to get them taken out, because my daddy didn't have to and I had a dental person tell me I probably wouldn't need to, but the issue requires a professional. Also, my teeth suck and I think I have, like, three cavities. Ew-y!
What am I, twelve?
I used to love going to the doctor and the dentist because I was an attention whore. I didn't care if I had to get a shot or sit still for an hour -- in fact, I loved it, because I was so good at handling that shit that the grown-ups would shower me with praise. It's not that I didn't get enough attention from my parents, though I did have nannies until I was three, it's just that I've always, even to this day (see: review page), needed some form of validation.
So I have to write this paper that was due on Thursday so I'm going to do that. Look for layout changes within the next week, as I managed to take care of my to-do list for work last Wednesday (something I was avoiding, because then I would have nothing to do) and need to feel some sort of accomplishment. Also, please pray for my computer, which is having some virtual memory issues and will be in surgery for the next few weeks. Also, read Life of Pi, as it is most enjoyable in the way that Haroun and Sea of Stories was most enjoyable. Lahd knows, I loves me some Salman Rushdie. Incidentally, Life of Pi is not by Salman Rushdie, but it's good nonetheless.
one year ago today: "dear world: compromise does not mean you get your way, i deal with it. i swear!" two years ago today: "since my favorite mind-numbing activity has decided to fail me, i guess i'll read instead." three years ago today: "I was seriously sketchin (ooo, old skool word) all day."