Weeeellll, shit. I went back to the motherland to burn the Yule Log and celebrate the flipping over of the Gregorian calendar. And while I was there I checked in with mi hermano y mis padres. Ay, dios mio. Es no bien.
Families are dumb. Like, there is so much hating going on, but at the same time you're feeling bad about it because you know deep down in your heart that these are the only people that are BY LAW obliged to give any kind of a rat's ass if anything happens to you. Ugh. So much shit that I totally cannot be bothered dealing with on any level ever.
I want to have the babies. I do not think this is such a crazy thing for a lady of my years to want. We get to a certain point and our biology is all like, fucking breed, motherfucker! Well, yeah. That is a thing I would quite like to do. Not, like, next week, or anything like that. But within the next three to five years...yes, having a kid is a thing that I think would be an OK thing to happen. I'm not stupid about it. I'm not going to get the next human with a penis to sperminate me and get it all going on.
I'd quite like the breeding process the be a two person activity, right up to at least the eighteenth year. I'd be perfectly capable of being a single mum, but I'd quite prefer to have someone on hand to blame to for anything that went wrong with the wee ankle-biter. And that person would have to be someone with a similar sense of humor, someone I didn't hate with the fire of a thousand suns, y'know? Trouble is, all the dudes I know who fit that description are all like, I don't want to have kids, or oh, I dunno, maybe someday, blah blah blah.
Newsflash, "someday" d-bags...wait those extra years and you're totally going to be popping out a bub with autism or down's. Not that those kids aren't totally worthy of love or whatever, but if you're as lazy as I think you are, parenting a kid with special needs prolly isn't way the fuck up there on your list of priorities. So don't be thinking that just 'cause you're never going to have to go through all the IVF bullshit you can wait 'til you're eighty to mould a set of tiny perfect correctly-chromosomed offspring. Your genetics have the same goddamn use-by date as mine, motherfuckers.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Gonna change the world, gotta plot and scheme...
I am a little bit worried about how 2013 is going to turn out. This is mostly because I'm starting at the University of the Incredibly Common in...ooh, let's see...two weeks. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. I will most likely be taking five classes and trying to load clinical hours on top of that. This is in addition to teaching two nights and two mornings a week, possibly more. I will also still be trying to practice two hours a day and performing as much as I was in the past year, hopefully more. I plan on maintaining ye olde fancy-pants GPA and going to
I do not deal well with being overextended. Poor Ten-Hut had to deal with a truly magnificent meltdown that I indulged in last Superbowl Sunday. Much sobbing and gasping was involved. At least one other friend has seen tearily declaring that it's all too much, it's just TOO MUCH STUFF and I JUST CAN'T, I JUUUUUST CAAAA-AH-AH-AAAN'T... While it's nice to know that there are people who have my back, I'd really prefer not to sink into the mire of stressed-out self-pity in the first place if I can possibly avoid it.
Since I've already wasted enough time trying to quell my anxiety with booze and wilful, head-in-the-sand ignoring of the situation, I suppose it might be worth my while to make some sort of plan. I really don't want to burn out in six months and have to start all over again. A plan is no guarantee that this won't happen, but I suppose it's better than nothing.
IPHY'S SUPER-RAD AWESOME SCHEME TO NOT FLUNK OUT OF COLLEGE, LOSE ALL HER JOBS, AND END UP HOMELESS BY THE FULLERTON ON-RAMP BEGGING FOR CHANGE WHILE WEARING NEWSPAPERS FOR PANTS:
1. Magical calendar-type help. If I can get a day planner for my phone that links up with my Google calendar, one that sucks less than the one I currently have, maybe I'll use it more. Maybe I'll check it six times a day and set alarms and reminders. Maybe then I won't forget things, or let things sneak up on me and get freaked out when I realize I've triple-booked myself. One little app download could make all the difference.
2. Budgeting. Bllerrrrgghhh. I seriously do not want to do this. Budgets are for people who lack the creativity to whip up tasty meals out of hummus, leftover pizza, and edamame. Budgets are for people with their lives in some semblance of order. I am not those people. However, I do quite like living in a pleasant, well-heated, comfortable abode, even if the neighborhood it's situated in is a bit on the dodgy side. I like having an unlimited talk and text plan. I like being able to go to the bar once in a while and occasionally purchase low-priced clothes or shoes that I don't strictly need. I would like to keep all of the above as features of my existence, which will require some kind of fiscal responsibility. So...a budget it is, I suppose. It's kind of hard when one's income changes from month to month, but I guess I can figure it out. Anyone want to show me how to use Excel?
3. Therapy. No idea how I'm going to fit that salty little treat into my already-bloated snackhole of a schedule, but I think it's important enough that I can't ditch it altogether. If you don't have enough sanity to continue functioning day-to-day, you don't have much of anything.
4. Getting a damn car. I don't know how I'm going to afford this, but it's long overdue. People who are way more broke than me have cars. I don't even want a fancy one. I'd settle for a seriously crap car as long as I knew it wasn't going to die on me in the middle of the freeway. A car, insurance, city sticker, gas...uhhh, what else? I suppose there's a website I could look at that covers all this. Ugh. I really would prefer not to think about it, but there we are. If it means being able to take more gigs and not having to take a bus and two trains to get to After School Special, I suppose it's worth it.
5. Selling my unwanted possessions on Amazon and e-Bay. Ten-Hut has been doing that for a minute. People will buy all kinds of shit, apparently. I wonder how hard it is to set all that up? I bet someone would pay good money for that red vintage Playboy bunny outfit.
I am now out of ideas, but I think I shall return to the plotting and planning in the next few days. If worst comes to worst, I suppose I can always follow Pip's punk-rock mother's advice and become a pro-dom. I'd look awesome in a PVC corset, I bet.
I do not deal well with being overextended. Poor Ten-Hut had to deal with a truly magnificent meltdown that I indulged in last Superbowl Sunday. Much sobbing and gasping was involved. At least one other friend has seen tearily declaring that it's all too much, it's just TOO MUCH STUFF and I JUST CAN'T, I JUUUUUST CAAAA-AH-AH-AAAN'T... While it's nice to know that there are people who have my back, I'd really prefer not to sink into the mire of stressed-out self-pity in the first place if I can possibly avoid it.
Since I've already wasted enough time trying to quell my anxiety with booze and wilful, head-in-the-sand ignoring of the situation, I suppose it might be worth my while to make some sort of plan. I really don't want to burn out in six months and have to start all over again. A plan is no guarantee that this won't happen, but I suppose it's better than nothing.
IPHY'S SUPER-RAD AWESOME SCHEME TO NOT FLUNK OUT OF COLLEGE, LOSE ALL HER JOBS, AND END UP HOMELESS BY THE FULLERTON ON-RAMP BEGGING FOR CHANGE WHILE WEARING NEWSPAPERS FOR PANTS:
1. Magical calendar-type help. If I can get a day planner for my phone that links up with my Google calendar, one that sucks less than the one I currently have, maybe I'll use it more. Maybe I'll check it six times a day and set alarms and reminders. Maybe then I won't forget things, or let things sneak up on me and get freaked out when I realize I've triple-booked myself. One little app download could make all the difference.
2. Budgeting. Bllerrrrgghhh. I seriously do not want to do this. Budgets are for people who lack the creativity to whip up tasty meals out of hummus, leftover pizza, and edamame. Budgets are for people with their lives in some semblance of order. I am not those people. However, I do quite like living in a pleasant, well-heated, comfortable abode, even if the neighborhood it's situated in is a bit on the dodgy side. I like having an unlimited talk and text plan. I like being able to go to the bar once in a while and occasionally purchase low-priced clothes or shoes that I don't strictly need. I would like to keep all of the above as features of my existence, which will require some kind of fiscal responsibility. So...a budget it is, I suppose. It's kind of hard when one's income changes from month to month, but I guess I can figure it out. Anyone want to show me how to use Excel?
3. Therapy. No idea how I'm going to fit that salty little treat into my already-bloated snackhole of a schedule, but I think it's important enough that I can't ditch it altogether. If you don't have enough sanity to continue functioning day-to-day, you don't have much of anything.
4. Getting a damn car. I don't know how I'm going to afford this, but it's long overdue. People who are way more broke than me have cars. I don't even want a fancy one. I'd settle for a seriously crap car as long as I knew it wasn't going to die on me in the middle of the freeway. A car, insurance, city sticker, gas...uhhh, what else? I suppose there's a website I could look at that covers all this. Ugh. I really would prefer not to think about it, but there we are. If it means being able to take more gigs and not having to take a bus and two trains to get to After School Special, I suppose it's worth it.
5. Selling my unwanted possessions on Amazon and e-Bay. Ten-Hut has been doing that for a minute. People will buy all kinds of shit, apparently. I wonder how hard it is to set all that up? I bet someone would pay good money for that red vintage Playboy bunny outfit.
I am now out of ideas, but I think I shall return to the plotting and planning in the next few days. If worst comes to worst, I suppose I can always follow Pip's punk-rock mother's advice and become a pro-dom. I'd look awesome in a PVC corset, I bet.
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