I am tired of my body betraying me. And vice versa.

I started on birth control recently, as the last few years my cycle has gotten less regular than, well, ever before (not counting the first few that I know I didn't keep good track of) and the accompanying cramps got worse. And well, it's nice to know that, should Wulfy and I decide to start having sex, I'm covered on the pregnancy front.

But this damn pill. Is killing me.

Even my worst cramps, the four-Advil-takes-the-edge-off, mommy-I-think-I'm-dying, ohgodowowowowow cramps, have only ever lasted one or two days. Until now.

owowowowowowowowow. For more than a week! And as I haven't even finished my first pack yet, I need to keep on this stuff long enough to find out if it will work long run, once my body gets used to it. I actually left work early today, even though I've been snowed in since Friday and missed even more days of work.

AND, my boobs are so swollen and tender, I can't wear my favorite bras--the cups are too little. I know I have said in the past that I would like to fill out an A cup, but I am so not sure about that right now.

I am so tired of feeling like my body and me are two separate entities fighting each other.

Why hello there, come here often?

...No, actually.

I just graduated college--only not really, because I'm going to eventually go to grad school so I'm not graduated in the sense of "omg I'm DONE, WOOOO," and because the ceremony got snowed out. 10+ inches of snow in this part of this state is, while not by any means unheard of, still brings everything to a grinding halt. Except people wanting eye exams, apparently, as my-brother-the-doctor still performed a fair number of exams in the midst of a raging snowstorm. Without my help! Amazing.

The snow wasn't really that raging, it just. kept. coming. is all.

So now, being out of school for the time being, I have no clue what to do with myself. Hypothetically, actually write something funnish--blog more maybe, and start work on a cheesy romance novel. All my loose ends feel very untied right now.

Am thinking, this minute, of blogging every day; if not here, over at the other blog. Obsessed as I've been with interior design lately, it makes sense. Blog as daydream, as I'm not in a position to decorate anything--living with an aunt who has an apartment in the basement that's supposed to be mine, but actually in her guest bedroom (on a twin bed, which I vowed never to do again) because said apartment is filled with the detritus of many years of living in the same house. It is, after all, in the basement.

I feel guilty for feeling so dissatisfied with this situation. I have a job, a place to live, plenty to eat, a great boyfriend, a city I love, etc etc etc. But nothing feels right, right now.

*blinkblink*

I am...appalled and disgusted.  You know what about.

And I'm a bit tense about going to work today because I work with a number of right-wingish people and I don't.  Want.  To hear it.  Thank god I don't have to go to my home church any time soon, too.  Or maybe not, maybe I should be raising some hell among the fuckers there I know will be cheering the murderer.

Argh.

Hoo Boy

Started a new job in a (kind of new) city recently.

Boss is, of course, kind of a dick.

Too exhausted at night to blog.

But hey, at least I get paid...*falls over*

The godawful cold is moving along.  The incredibly sore throat is mostly gone, the unbelievably stuffy nose is beginning to clear, and the dreaded cough has set in.  Every time I get sick I get this damn cough.  It's uncomfortable, disruptive, and makes Wulfy think that I'm about to die.  Oh god, I hate this cough.

At the same time, it is satisfying to get rid of that tickle in my chest.  It's like scratching a bug bite.

I also definitely have a job for the summer, and a tiny basement apartment in which to live, so I don't have to go home.  Yay!  I like home, I just like here better.

And uh...that's it.

My adventure for the evening:

cold=blowing nose

blowing nose=nosebleed

nosebleed+empty stomach=scary panic attack

scary panic attack=911 call

911 call=EMT visit

EMTs figure out that it was a panic attack, but tell me to have bloodword done at the infirmary tomorrow.  Am now eating brocolli cheddar soup and being glad the bleeding has stopped.

Names, Nicknames, and Identity

Due to discussion about names, nicknames, and the importance we ascribe to them here, I got to thinking about mine, especially my first real online handle.

Somewhere on that thread, someone named Rebecca gets told maybe it would be cool if she went by "Reb."  This was, in fact, my first handle, short for both my middle name and "rebel" (not the Southern kind, but stemming from an odd occurence in my youth group*).  I loved that name, really, even though I haven't thought about it in years.  It felt very "me" at the time--maybe still does in some ways--and I wanted badly for my friends to call me by it, but that would be (like Buck) violating the First Law of Nicknames.  Plus, self-ascribed nicknames rarely stick.

"Seraph" was thought up for me partly by a friend of mine in highschool (The Mastermind), when I was making my first-ever online journal.  I tend to overthink screennames because I want them to convey my identity more fully than a lot of people tend to bother with, and I had trouble thinking up that one because I felt that my social identity was in flux at the time.  Mastermind suggested some combination of "shadow" to express that gray area, and "seraph" because I'm religious and it sounded cool.  Eventually the shadow part got dropped but Seraph stuck somehow.

In a lot of ways I think of myself more as Reb or Seraph than my real name.  But there's no way calling myself by those names in social situations would fly.  This comes from very early personal experience, when I tried to get everyone I knew to call me by the name of a candy that I liked, and which sounded vaguely like my name in some contexts.  I think only two people ever called me by that name, and one of them arrived at it on his own instead of having me try to tell him.

Maybe names aren't something we're meant to pick for ourselves, somehow?

*One time, my youth group in the course of a Bible study was asked to think up a bunch of people they would call "rebels" to write up on the white board.  My name ended up there alongside Che Guevara and Saddam Hussein, probably due to my perpetual tendency to play devil's advocate in discussion rather than immediately swallowing the usual doctrine.  Maybe they should have called me "Buck"?  The actual point of the exercise was to demonstrate that while most people that youth-groupers will call rebels are "bad," there is a good way to be rebellious, especially since Jesus was portrayed in that study as "The Ultimate Rebel."

Anxiety

I am stressed right now.

It's not because of school, per se, because my classes are going along more or less fine.  I'm just stressing myself out over grad school.

My parents want me to go into law, which would make money, but I don't know if I want to.  I would ideally like to teach English at a community college or higher, but there aren't a whole lot of jobs or money there.  Or, lately I've been thinking I'd like to get my masters in library science and be a librarian, at least for a while.  A few schools in the state offer a joint JD/MLS, so maybe that would be good?

So either I've been working on school, thinking about what to do after I graduate (likely this December) or distracting myself with fluffy bunnies and Shadow of the Colossus so I don't freak out too badly.

And this is why all my blogging, even my shiny new design blog, has fallen by the wayside.  *sigh*.

A sad blog goodbye...

We all found a while ago that Kim at Bastante Already shut down her blog for what seems to be the last time.

I loved that blog.  Kim is a cool chick, and I hope we'll see her around these internets somewhere, sometime.

Filler post, woooo

I am taking a salsa dance class this semester.

If you don't think this counts as exercise, think again.  The way you have to move for that Latin rhythm is just...unnatural.

Ow my back.  Ow my thighs.

Picture to the right is Wulfy's sister and brother-in-law, not doing the salsa.  They're dancing a rumba, actually, but it's the same family of dance.  Imagine how strong she must be to hold that position.

Is this thing on?

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it?

I started a goofy new blog about design, my latest relaxing time-waster:

Ange de Design

Sometimes it's hard to write about things I want to write about here; so many other people have a better handle on current events etc, and my personal life is...well, it's personal.  I'm at a point where sharing my life is kind of difficult, for whatever reason.  But "hey, I really like this chair!" is not so personal, so there you have it.

More stuff will go here, I swear, when Winter Break is over and I have classes to write about.