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Greetings guys and gals.

I don't know where to begin. I feel kinda weird... almost stoned. Well, I haven't had cough syrup in awhile, so that may be it. I had an overwhelming urge to type on my boyfriend's laptop, and then I remembered, "Hey! I have a blog!"

It was like it was meant to be.

It is opera_queen's birthday tomorrow. If you know her, harass her.

Yippee for non-sequential thoughts.

I have been shoving lotion up my nose recently. I had this cold phenomenon last week where I would blow my nose so hard, it would bleed. Not a bursted capillary or anything, more of a scratching and gouging delicate nasal walls. Needless to say, scabs formed. Which looks like boogers poking out of my nose. So, I pick. It bleeds. It scabs. Another entity that looks like a booger. And the vicious cycle goes on and on.

In hindsight, I just realised that you probably didn't want to here about my scabby nose situation. It is really bugging me. It may be, temporarily speaking, lowering my self body image. Such a huge impact from such a small healing process. So, my nose hurts. But, by softening up thesxe booger/scabs with lotion, I feel a lot more comfortable with myself. As long as I don't have to look in the mirror.

Mmmmmm..... cough syrup. Actually, Robitussin doesn't taste that good. And the commercials annoy me.

I am poor. Normally, I would say that "I'm so poor, I can't afford the 'r'". Then, one day Booger (as in my sister, not the ready-to-be-chiseled scabs) so accurately pointed out, "Well, then that makes you poo." Damn. So, I just stick with stating that I'm damn poor.

I'm thinking about getting a part time job over the summer. Something fun and not too stressful. Maybe Blockbuster or Ruckers. Baby J is starting a new daycare soon (yay!) that has better hours, hot lunches, and more activities for him. So, keep him there during the summer (which my boyfriend can afford) and use the part-time moolah to scrape away at my credit card and such.

When did my standard of living increase so much to max everything out? And why wasn't I given a memo?

Erm, yeah. My nose is starting to feel crusty again.

My Dad visisted me last week. Yes, that's right. I guess I gave him a guilt trip awhile back whining that he comes up North to fish, but hasn't seen the life that his eldest daughter made for herself.... yada, yada, yada. Apparently, I forgot about that. He didn't, and he came. Now, I have very little pride left. There has been many times when I have been proven wrong, and have had my fallacies pointed out in a variety of forms. Not much can phase me (hence my new saying, "You can't crack me... I'm on Paxil"). I do have pride when it comes to my father. My place wasn't 100% clean. He got a sense of how poor I was. When I was at school, my step-mother started cleaning up my basement and the mounds of clothes there. My father bought me kitty litter. That stung.

I'm okay now. The visit was good, and I am very appreciative that they did come to see me since this town holds nothing more for them. I've always found it hard asking my father for anything. He missed so much of my life growing up, we had to work hard the years in University to build something on broken bricks. He looked at my piano, and had reminded me that he has never heard me play. I informed him that I haven't practiced for years, and I had let my ability slipped. We both looked at the piano, and then changed the subject.

We haven't known each other long enough for me to admit I'm a screw up. It's hard to explain, and I felt that my boyfriend couldn't comprehend why I was so upset that my arthritic stepmother was going up and down my stairs to do old laundry that coated the floor since shortly after we moved in.

The novelty of typing is starting to wear off. I have successfully procrastinated another half hour or so. My boyfriend made me a deal that if I caught up with all my marking, he would have his horribly ingrown toenails finally looked at by medical professionals. The same toe that has been oozing and festering since I have met him. Ah, c'est l'amour.

Mmmmmm.... bloody boogers and nauseating nails....

That's all folks. I try to refind rhyme and reason someday.

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
opera_queen
May. 29th, 2006 02:52 am (UTC)
YOU ARE NOT A SCREW UP!

You have a house, a car, a boyfriend, a child, a job and friends. (yes I put the material possessions first, and I meant to do that) You can't be a screw up wehn you have so much.

Being in debt sucks, but I was told that that was what being twenty-something was all about.

Enjoy.
pen_girl
May. 29th, 2006 06:09 pm (UTC)
I agree
You are not a screw up. I was in your touchy-feely, I mean cross cultural, class... I heard your speech, I almost cried, I love you more anyway! I think you're doing awesome. Not everyone can forgive and build. Good on you. I'll try to call you tonight.
(Deleted comment)
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )