Rain, Rain, Stay All Day!

And the rain rain rain came down down down
And the rain rain rain came down.

Hey, people. It's raining out!! Isn't that amazing? And I don't mean a sprinkle here and there. It really rained. For at least 15 mins! It even slanted at one point.
When it started, I ran outside and down the street as fast as I could. Then I stopped and just stood, my hair streaming and my shoulders and pants cuffs soaked. Alena joined me and I ran around in circles, a stupid grin on my face.
I haven't been this happy in a very long time.
I waved my arms around and screamed, startling passing drivers.
"GOODBYE, DEPRESSION!" I yelled as loud as I wanted. "YOU TRIED TO TEAR ME DOWN WITH SUNLIGHT AND BIRDS, BUT BEHOLD!" I believe that I spun around at this point. "THE RAIN COMES, BRINGING COLD AND HAPPINESS! AHAHAHAHHAAAH!!!!"
On a related note, I think the neighbors think that I'm mad.
BUT WHO CARES??

I have no need of drinkin'.
Don't need a bottle or two.
I can sit all day not thinkin'
Of how much I miss you...
Because the rain is here to stay
And I wouldn't have it any other way...

Yes, the rain is here so I'm not drinkin' for you.
Yeah, the rain is here so I'm not drinkin' for you.

Some guys they like their whiskey
In bottles deep and clear
But that poison can be risky
And the rain is here.

Oh I don't need to drink again
I'll let the rain wash me away!
No I don't need to think again
I'll save it for another day.

And when the rain is gone and done
I'll go out, find another one.
Someone clean and someone true
No, I don't have to think about you

'Cause I don't need to drink again
I'll let the rain wash me away!
No I don't need to think again
I'll save it for another day.

Fuzzy and Confused

The weeks have been getting longer and my head's been feeling fuzzy.
I'm usually able to switch into a really creative mode fairly quickly, writing and downing coffee like a maniac. This past month? Not so much.
My head feels fuzzy and I've had a couple migraines, and I haven't been speaking correctly. Not like I-just-had-a-seizure speak, more like forgetting words and not putting sentences together well. It's like I've forgotten how grammar works.
I can almost pull off writing because I can go back and re-read stuff, but it still ends up being really dry.
On top of all this, I've been way more socially withdrawn now that school's back in. Now that I have to see people for a few hours twice a week, I'm not so keen on going outside.
I don't know. Maybe I'm sick. My head hurts, I can't formulate ideas properly, I'm physically and emotionally tired, and I keep saying stupid shit without thinking.
Whatever it is, it needs to go away soon so that I can get on with things.

Personal Character Development

So I've been reading about Asperger's syndrome lately. I'm pretty sure that I have it and it's taking a lot of willpower to not go research-crazy (because self-diagnosis can lead to sketchy Real Life details later on. Hypochondriac, remember?). Still, I've learned quite a bit and I wanted to bring something up.

I am very good at bullshitting. I am not good at lying. Yes, there is a difference.
For example, if you ask if I did or didn't do something I was/wasn't supposed to, I will always tell the truth, even if it isn't in my best interests. This isn't only because I'm against lying. It's because I really can't lie in the first place. I'd fix my eyes on something boring, try to hide my face, and wonder if my skin was changing color, trying all the while to remember if the person I'm talking to is good at detecting lies. I get so hung up on them buying it, I end up giving myself away.
Bullshitting, on the other hand, is like telling a story. Sure, that's what lying is too, but when I bullshit it's to entertain. I love telling kids about the magical properties of coconuts, how to befriend fire imps, and just what the troll-to-ogre ratio is in the monster-hunting business.*
If people don't believe me, that's totally fine. It was done in jest and I lost nothing. I can bullshit all I want.
The trouble is, I've become really good at pretending to be other people.

I love characters. There's nothing quite as fun as slipping into an act, to take on alien characteristics.
I loved Heath Ledger's performance in Batman: Dark Knight so much, I adopted his speech patterns for weeks. I was so enthralled by Abed Nadir from Community that I still say 'Cool. Cool cool cool.' compulsively. And don't even get me started on the 10th Doctor.
It's all fine when it's a recognizable character. It only gets weird when your moods suddenly have character detached from you.
For example, yesterday at work I was putting books on a cart, talking to the new librarian. I usually have a meandering sort of tone, as if I'm somewhere else entirely. I also tend to mumble a lot and giggle at my own jokes. So I was talking normally, when suddenly our landlord walked up to me.
I straightened a bit and smiled. "Hey!" I said, raising my eyebrows and twisting my neck a little in a surprised manner. "How're you doing?"
"Not bad." He said, returning the smile. "How are you?"
"I'm good." I said, although I wasn't really feeling fantastic.
"That's great." He said. "I'm gonna look at some books. You take care now."
"All right, you too." I said in my most pleasant voice. I continued to sort books, holding a happy smile until he was well out of sight. Then I dropped the face, relaxed my shoulders, and went back to sorting.
What I did was insincere in the moment, but it wasn't meant to trick him. He would be more comfortable if I reacted really positively in that moment, so I did. It was a pleasant encounter and I think we both befitted from it in a small way.
And it isn't like every time I do this, I'm faking. My 'happy and polite' mode is a little amped up at work, but I'm sure that anyone who knows me has seen it. Usually I actually am really happy to see you. It just takes a tad bit more effort to really express it (or, sometimes, regulate it. Some people are put off by my 'mad loon' grin.).
Still, it might creep other people out to see me shift modes, as I'm sure the new librarian did. Sometimes when I'm in a setting where I have to be in 'happy, polite' mode all day, it really becomes taxing. Being on guard all the time, remembering which face you should be making, or what topic would be too inappropriate to bring up... It's really tiring.

SO if you see my face suddenly change after talking to someone, you'll know why.



*No, seriously. I told my neighbor kids about this. It was awesome.
**Actually, he isn't our landlord. I've forgotten the correct term. It doesn't really matter right now, though.

Publishers and the Adherance to Phantasmic Posulations

So there's this story that I've been working on lately. I've written tons of snippets, side stories, and notes for it. I've spent time obsessing, researching, and perfecting. You'd think that, with all the work I've put into it, I might get some money from it some day. Wrong.
My work does not completely belong to me. Why? Because the universe in which it's set belongs to Gene Roddenberry and CBS. That's right, it's a Star Trek fanfiction!
However, unlike most fanfiction, this one is going to be huge. About the size of an actual book. And the crazy part? All of the characters are original.
At this point, you're probably shouting at your screen in frustration at my stupid choices. Why would I relinquish almost all of my creative rights and write about a universe that already exists when I could just as easily create my own?
Because it's a challenge.
I'm being forced to write within the bounds of a pre-written universe. This means that I have to adhere to the laws of nature and heavily research everything. It means that, even though all the characters are original and I'm creating an entirely new species and planet, I have to do things like look up the appropriate uniform for their era, observe proper Starfleet conduct, and make sure that I know the starship's floor plan.
A lot of work is going into this and a lot of work will continue to go into this, and I'm probably never going to get paid (unless they want to buy the story off me). I know this, and I'm fine with it. Sure, it would be nice to see some cash flow from a published book, but that's not really the point of writing. Honestly, I'd be happy if just one person read it. As long as a single person finds themselves enjoying the story, if it opens them to new ideas or viewpoints, even just a little, then my work has paid off.
Plus, if it ends up being a hit, pieces of it may just worm its way into Canon! Did you know that Uhura's first name was created by William Rotsler, an avid Star Trek fan who wrote Star Trek II Biographies, a licensed Star Trek novel (basically a glorified fanfic)? Gene Rodenberry and Nichelle Nichols liked the name, so it was adopted as canon. However, Nyota Uhura's name was never mentioned in the Star Trek movies or show until the 2009 film, taking place in the Alternate Reality.
<takes breaths/>
Whew! Did not mean to geek out so much there. What was I saying?

Oh yeah!
So I'm making this super cool, super long Star Trek fanfic that will probably never make me any money, but I'm totally fine with that and I hope that you guys will read it someday.
Phew.

Logging out. Live long and prosper.

ZeFrank: Pwner of Angels

So... Much... ZeFrank.... @_@
This man is so amazing, every time he smiles a tree sloth poops rainbow butterflies onto unsuspecting tourists.
Check him out on youtube or on his website, zefrank.com
Don't be intimidated by his strange eyes and orange filters. His videos are thought provoking, but easy to understand and his voice is like the lovechild of Leonard Cohen and a very cuddly, sarcastic tiger.
Now GO.

Friendship Advice?

My best friend and I hit a rough patch about a year ago. It was mostly my fault. When I realized that things weren't going smoothly, I, like an idiot, thought that if I stepped back and gave everything time, it would all end up okay. I thought that I was screwing it up by being too close to the situation.
I realized far, far too late that this was entirely stupid and quite possibly the worst idea I've ever had. My friend contacted me a few months ago and we talked things over. I thought that things, although not entirely patched up with her, were going to get better. That we might have to start over again, but everything would be fine.
This hasn't happened and I'm kinda freaking out.
I've considered just forgetting about the whole thing entirely, but that doesn't seem to be an option- I think of her every day and it hurts horribly every single time. I'm not exaggerating about this. Every damn day, I turn around and there's something that reminds me of her staring me in the face.
I know that I should never forget the impact that she's had upon my life, but sometimes I wish that I could.

I'm assuming that most of the people reading this have had friends before and kinda know what to do. I'm at a total loss and I'm afraid of waiting around any longer.
Thank you.



__________________________________

PS: Sorry about the melodrama. I've been trying to not talk about any of my crazy-ass emotional issues anymore because I tend to overwhelm people, but sometimes I need answers.

PPS: It's 2:12 AM and I'm really freaking tired, so please excuse me if I come across as anything other then sad/confused. I can't function properly at this hour without caffeine in my system, so I have no filters or recognition for what is or isn't appropriate. (I still can't tell if it needs more or fewer cuss-words. Wait, less? No, that doesn't make sense... What's the antonym of fewer, again??) I probably shouldn't even be publishing this right now, but I'm worried that I won't have enough guts in the morning.

PPPS: To make up for the drama in this post, here are some funny picture of cats.










PPPPS: I used to have a very impressive lolcatz collection, but I lost it when my motherboard overheated. =(

PPPPPS: How many postscripts can you make?

PPPPPPS: According to wikipedia, you can make an infinite number of postscripts.
"Sometimes, when additional points are made after the first postscript, abbreviations such as PPS (post-post-scriptum, or postquam-post-scriptum) and PPPS (post-post-post-scriptum, and so on, ad infinitum) are used, though only PPS has somewhat common usage." [source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Postscript ]
As tempted as I am to push it to the limit, I think I'll stick with the 6.

Telephones and Tardiness

8:04

That's what my alarm clock says at the moment. It had better actually be 8:04, because I just went back and set it.

Yesterday I got a call from my boss. She said that we were short on hours for the pages and I no longer have my Wednesdays. I work 3 days a week and Wednesdays are where I have most my hours. I enjoy Wednesdays- Not only because I earn 16 bucks more on that day. I enjoy them because they present a challenge. Storytime starts at 10:30 for the little kids, so the place is full of children for most the time I'm there. Learning how to time everything perfectly without running over children all the while has been something good for me. In addition to this, my favorite coworker is always there on Wednesdays (not always there on the other days), and we usually get some time to talk about Doctor Who or something before there are more things to shelve.

I was kinda sad about losing Wednesdays and a bit anxious about my job's stability, but I decided to let it go. There was nothing I could do... And tomorrow was no longer a work day.

So I turned off my alarm.

When I woke up, my clock read 9:42. Normally I'd be all jazzed about the 42, but something hit me:

DID SHE MEAN THIS WEDNESDAY?

They open when my shift starts, so I couldn't call. I'd have to walk over there to find out.

The problem was, I had to brush my teeth, find socks, and wash the roadgrit out of my hair before walking into my place of work. And I had less then 10 minuets.

I'd already been late twice in a row the in the last weeks (once because I forgot to set the alarm, once because of miscommunication between my Mom and me) and I was sure that they wouldn't be so forgiving this time.

I explained the situation to mom, stuck my head in the tub, and ran around like a lunatic to find clothes, a toothbrush sticking out of my face all the while.

I ran out the door at 9:55. As I ran, I opened my phone to see if I had any missed calls.

There, in the corner in tiny letters, was the time. 7:55.

I stopped and looked around. It did seem too late for the sun to be that low... I ran back inside and checked the time on the microwave. Yup, 7:55. Somehow I managed to change my clock's time when I turned off the alarm. I've done it before.

So now I'm going to eat and get ready at a slower pace before walking to work to see if I work today anyway.
As of right now, it's 8:34. (Yeah, I write slowly! What do you want from me??) I'll walk to work in an hour and 45 minutes. Wish me luck.

________________________________

PS: While looking for an appropriate word for the title, I came upon the word "metachronism." Neat, huh?

PSS: I finished writing and editing at 8:34. I worked on the title until 8:47. PRIORITIES.