Photo Dump: Shit Post

Jeez, what a fucking couple of weeks.  Here’s a run down, not necessarily related to the pictures.

I didn't have plans anyway.

I didn’t have plans anyway.

1. I am still recovering from my last carpal tunnel surgery; it was so much more painful than the first one.  The first (right hand) healed really quickly but even after a month the skin on my left hand is red and super sensitive.  It’s not raw or anything, but it hurts to the touch.  It’s truly just the surface and scarring area; the surgery part is fine and I no longer have pain.  Both hands can’t support serious weight on the palms, so holding pots and pans can be really painful.  Thankfully, I’m taking a 37 year break from push-ups so I’m sure I’ll be fine soon.

That fucking face! I am dying.

That fucking face! I am dying.

2. I have a fair amount of skin coloring and have always had various freckles.  I categorize them as freckles, not moles as they are small, flat and symmetrical.  Fact: when I was a kid, my family used to tell me that freckles were fly poop :( Anyway, I discovered an odd marking on the back of my right leg, right below my calf muscle.  I went to the dermatologist and they did a shave biopsy. It bled forever and it hurts like hell.  As far as I know, there is no abnormality (cancer), but that dermatologist is the kind that doesn’t contact you unless there’s something wrong.  I don’t know if it’s because I’m a wimp or if it’s just because the skin is being constantly pulled if I’m walking or what.  Hurrrrrts.

I really should call because leave it to my lovely luck that I’ve been dead for a week and the doctor just forgot about me.

*chews sadly*

*chews sadly*

3.  I finally went to an ENT (ear, nose, and throat doctor) to check out my ridiculous nose bleeds.  At the particular office I went to, I had to see the Physicians Assistant who then proceeded to do all the nose things that aliens do.  She also proceeded to cauterize two blood vessels in my nose.   You can watch the procedure here (but don’t because it is as bad as you might think); I had cauterization with silver nitrate.  She noted that she couldn’t see any spots that appeared to have bled recently so she literally cauterized the two places she thought might be suspicious.  The PA neglected to tell me that it was going to hurt like fucking hell and I should have just been happy with bleeding to death.

The general consensus is that it feels like you’ve had your nose broken and while I’ve never had my nose broken, it did feel like I was dying.  I honestly thought I was going to have to go to the hospital because I didn’t think this was normal.

 

I'm 40% nose bleeds.

I’m 40% nose bleeds.

4. My nose ran non-stop.  Not like, sniffles, but shit was streaming out of my face.  I know I’m painting a delightful picture here.  I was not expecting that since again, it was not mentioned.  What the PA did let me know is to call the office immediately if I had a nosebleed so that I could come in and have them re-cauterize any bleeding areas.  If I waited then they wouldn’t be able to tell where I bled (like that day, for instance). Two days after the cauterization my nose started bleeding again.  As per her instruction, I called the office to try to come in on a Friday around noon.

“There are no providers in the office today; you will have to wait until Monday.”  The receptionist sounded like I offended her and her whole family by trying to explain that this is what the PA told me to do.  Ugh, fuck all this shit.  I’ll just bleed to death.

 

I hope to achieve this line of thinking some day.

I hope to achieve this line of thinking some day.

5. My windows are still not done.  The windows that are paid for and installed two months ago are still wrong and need to be replaced.  I could write a whole post about this aggravation and I’m tempted because I want the whole world to know how fucking stupid this has been.  But I really want to wait until the whole ordeal is over to see how events unfold.

Then I’ll bitch about it.

Post-Post Op Post

So after surgery I couldn’t do anything with my right hand which sucks because it’s incredibly dominant.  As in Ol’ Lefty can’t do anything.  Toilet time is the worst.  THE WORST.  Aquarium maintenance is fucking awful but I must say, my back and left arm hurt a LOT so I guess I have that going for me.  The last time my left arm was stronger than my right arm was when I cashiered; right hand grabs the stuff, left hand bags and puts it in the cart.  It’s really weird to use my left hand and I have to stop myself from grabbing things with my right hand out of habit.  So, here’s what I did while I was being pathetic:

BOOKS

They were all so young and the pictures are so haunting.

I read Dead Mountain: The Untold True Story of the Dyatlov Pass Incident.  I’ve loved this story since I was a child and I was always in the paranormal conspiracy camp.  This book gives some real discussion as to what exactly happened and I think the answer makes a lot of sense.  The only part of the book I didn’t like was that it was half story, half introspective writing and the introspective part bored me.  I can say that it really built up to the ending and explored all the angles.  All in all, it’s a real tragedy no matter what you think happened.

Meow. MEOW.

Second book was The Cinder Spires: The Aeronaut’s Windlass by the amazing Jim Butcher.  I’m totally a fangirl but when I started reading it, it wasn’t exactly my cup of tea.  For about two pages and then I read it all in one day.  That’s the real fucking shit right there–I wait for months if not years for a new book to come out and the authors have the gall to write a book that I read non-stop in one day.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  So discourteous.  It’s a steam-punk world and the writing is very visual.  I felt like I could absolutely see everything.  If you’ve read The Codex Alera series and of course The Dresden Files some of the ideas and imagery will be familiar but I’m not giving anything away.  I am not saying that he writes some timeless literature, but I will say he writes damn good fucking stories that I can’t put down and I want to binge read them until my eyeballs fall out.

He’s going to be at Dragon Con this year and the Mr. and the Boy are going AND I AM NOT BECAUSE THE WORLD ISN’T FAIR but hopefully the Mr. will get Jim’s autograph on a piece of sheet music that I have.  Then again, I bet they won’t even get his autograph because the lines will be crazy pants.  Maybe I’ll just write him a fan letter and enclose the sheet music for him to sign.  Because that won’t make me sound crazy.

Fan Girls Gone Wild

Last but not least, I read Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns).  A fun, quick read that was overly relatable in some places but not so much in others.  You have friends?  You have family?  Okay, Miss Perfect!  But seriously, I thought it was an honest little memoir, funny, and interesting without the gut wrenching confessions that you get in a lot of these types of books.  As in, normal girl does well!  Let’s congratulate her on not getting pregnant at 14 and becoming a heroin addict!   I want to be best friends with her but I’m 100% not cool enough.

NETFLIX AND TV AND CHILI DOGS

There was no Netflix and chill, but there was cravings for chili dogs but I couldn’t drive so I had to settle for nothing.  Story of my life.  Binge watched Expedition Unknown because I like Josh Gates and I miss Destination Truth.  This episode in particular scared the shit out of me.

I also binge watched The Dead Files.  I want so, so badly for it to be real.  I know it’s probably not, but I like it.  Steve DiSchiavi gives it credibility in my mind.  I want it to be real.

I do, I really, really do.

I also think that Amy Allen looks like Flo from the Progressive Insurance commercials.  Google “Amy Allen faces” to get a chuckle.

Twinsies.

I did watch some movies too, for as much as I could stay awake for.  Drugs are one helluva drug.  Lots of fun silliness–I couldn’t concentrate for the more serious films (sorry, Jiro Dreams of Sushi).

I have also been playing a lot of Civ IV because I don’t need two hands for that.

And that really sums up my exciting adventures.  Whee.

A Tale of Two Steves

Story Time!  Names have been changed because I’m not interested in talking about other people.  This story is about me–it’s my blog if you didn’t notice.

A very, very long time ago, I knew these two guys named Steve Urkel*.  They were friends, and privately I nicknamed them “Good Steve” and “Bad Steve”.  We’ll talk about Bad Steve first.

Bad Steve, obviously.

Bad Steve was a nice guy, but bad news.  He was a drug dealer.  Not a street corner drug dealer, more of a middle man.  Not a king pin, but doing well enough that I saw money, drugs, and guns.  I distinctly remember video security at his front door, a 9 mm under his pillow and an automatic rifle of some sort in the closet.  Aside from all that, Bad Steve was good looking, nice, personable and liked koalas.  He also liked me well enough that we never really used each other for anything.  This was past my days of drug use.  We enjoyed each other’s company–I was no threat and I didn’t do drugs so he could relax and I thought he was fun and to be perfectly honest, it was exciting to be around someone like that.  I was young, naive, and very, very stupid.

Good Steve with Laura Winslow

Now, Good Steve was friends with Bad Steve which is how I met him.  He was half Filipino and very frat-y and gregarious.  A good talker and good looking and he showed me the kind of attention that made me think he actually interested in me.  (As a side note, I don’t usually know when a guy is interested in me, so I’m going to assume in hindsight that Good Steve was very forward).  We talked a lot and tried to make plans (LIKE A DATE WHAT THE HELL) but either he or I always had something come up.

One night, very late, he gave me a call and wanted to see if he could come over and hang out since we never could meet up.  It was late-late, like 1 or 2 AM.  I scrambled around picking up and hiding my disgusting living conditions to make it look like I was a normal person and not the horrible slob I really am.

He came over with liquor and we stayed up drinking and talking and it was fun.  He told me about his family and how his Mom hated that he never dated Asian girls, how his dad wanted him to go into a specific field of work.  He walked around my apartment and complimented me about my choice of books and movies, but most specifically, he told me he was impressed with my art.  I couldn’t believe it!  I thought he was just being nice but of course inside I was screaming “OH MY GOD I THINK HE LIKES ME” because no matter what age I am, I still think of it as ‘a guy likes me’.

We went out into the stairwell so he could smoke a cigarette even though I said he could smoke in my apartment.  (HOW THOUGHTFUL!)  As we were talking out there, he leaned in and gave me kiss out of the blue.  I asked him what was that for and he replied Just because I wanted to.  (OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD I THINK HE REALLY DOES LIKE ME)

Now, at this point I would like to note that I was technically an adult, but I distinctly remember that I wanted to call my best friend right that second to tell her what happened.

We called each other for dumb things a lot.

Since it was so late, I didn’t call her.  As the night went on, I got progressively more and more drunk and ended up in a bad situation.  I think I mentioned previously that I was young, naive, and very stupid.  Very, very stupid.

That night Good Steve turned into Bad Steve and Bad Steve was suddenly Good Steve.  I never saw or heard from the newly appointed Bad Steve ever again.  Good Steve and I talked and saw each other here and there for a few months after but I never said anything about it because what was I going to say?  I know it wasn’t my fault, but there were a million things I could have/should have done to prevent it.  I don’t even know if Bad Steve knows what happened because he was also very drunk.  I don’t blame him as much as I blame my own poor choices but I don’t beat myself up about it.

This was a very long time ago and as weird as it sounds, it wasn’t so dramatic and I’m not overly traumatized.  I’ve had plenty of other things to ruin me, and in the big scheme of things, Bad Steve is barely a blip on my radar.  The thing that does stick with me and bothers me to this day is that I wonder if he actually thought my art was good or not.

(\/) (°,,,°) (\/)

I know that sounds dumb, but can’t recall actually finishing any original piece of art since that time.  Starts but no finishes.  I will make plans to start a sketchbook.  Draw every day.  And nothing.  It’s been such a long time so I don’t think I can blame Bad Steve Urkel anymore, but I do wonder if he planted that seed of doubt in my head.

I don’t expect to suddenly start churning out amazing pieces of original art just because I came to this conclusion.  It took me almost 20 years to compile this random thought, so maybe in another 20 years I’ll have something tangible to show for it.

Someday.

* The guys I’m talking about are actually not Steve Urkel or Stefan Urquelle.  Just thought I’d make that clear.