The Girl in Black

Se necesita una poca de gracia.

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Where the party's at...

Hello everyone. Sorry I haven't been posting the good, quality content that brings you back again and again like all the marketing magazines tell me I need to make my blog a successful business venture. (Aren't I clever? I'm applying sarcastic comments about my profession to my personal life!)

I've obviously been terribly introspective as of late, as well as pretty fucked up in the head. But I'm learning things about myself and other people, and I'm still alive, so I guess that's okay then. And I have been writing about it all, only, I have a confession to make.

I have been seduced by LiveJournal.

The privacy options are what got me. I can write stuff and let only certain people read it if I want to, which is a big plus for a secretive person like me. And they also provide you with nifty little text boxes that you can put whatever mood you're in and what music you're listening to (not to mention the cute little icons that go with it!). And it's a lot easier to network with my friends.

But fear not, I haven't abandoned the Girl in Black completely. I think I may start simultaneously posting all the news about me that's fit to show the masses, and I do enjoy writing thoughtful essay-like musings about life and my experiences on occasion. I think Blogger is perfect for that. So ultimately, I may turn this into a semi-respectable blog in the long run.

Of course, I'm in one of those moods right now where I feel confident that I can make all these big plans and promises, only to fall flat later on when major depression strikes.

Ah well, c'est la vie. I'm honestly just taking things one day at a time. And today, I think I'm doing pretty good...

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

The cute wars begin...

Drew and Eleanor found a kitten.

It needs a home.

It is terribly cute.

-End Transmission

Thursday, June 16, 2005

I want to give a formal shout out

to this guy Praveen, who makes the most beautiful ambient music. Throughout my darkest days and nights, this cd has been with me to calm my troubled spirit.

Yeah, I know it sounds pretty flowery, but honestly, this is good stuff and it really did help me through my recent depression. Plus he is a friend of a friend, so it's, like, he's a real person! Support him, so that he might make more pretty sounds with things.

In other news, I think I'm going to sell the Volvo.


Did I hear an audible gasp from the crowd? Yeah, I, um, haven't really gone about cleaning it up or figuring out if this is even feasible, but when my coworker friend suggested Craig's List, I remembered my wicked idea to market Stella as an authentic "Liberalmobile" actually used by a Kerry staffer during the '04 election and it even comes complete with a slew of liberal, feminist, and old-school local Orlando scenester bumper stickers.

Do ya think it might work?

Monday, June 13, 2005

So despite all of the familial drama on Friday (more about that in a second), I had a pretty nice weekend.

Ah yes, familial drama. So I mentioned I was getting a minivan? Only the terms of the arrangement were unknown? Well, apparently my parents didn't really discuss amongst themselves what exactly they wanted from me. So, in a sense, the minivan is a loan. How long of a loan? I'm not sure. See, my car still works. It just needs service, and I was getting really stressed about having to take it in.

Did I mention my mother worries too much?

I asked her for some helpful, grounded advice, because I was getting too overwhelmed with everything, and her response was "take the van, your car is too dangerous, we'll sell it."

Now, I don't think there are many people out there who would want my car. The leather seats have been "gently loved", the plastic in the interior falls off every now and again like limbs off of a leper, and the pain job is wearing away enough to allow the metal to become slightly rusty in spots.

So yeah, Stella needs some work.

What I was thinking was to just take her in to the Volvo mechanics we've been using as long as we've lived in The City Beautiful and say "Need parts? How much will you give me for her?" Simple, clean, a situation I could handle. But no.

*sighs* No, that's not good enough for my father. I mean, his heart's in the right place and all, but his preferred life lesson method equates to throwing a small child into a swimming pool so they'll learn how to swim. (And yes, for a time I had a swimming instructor who did just that. My comrades from the daycare center and I would huddle in shivering groups after it was over, congratulating ourselves if we didn't cry that day. But I digress...)

Not only is selling my car for parts a bad idea, but the minivan that they're lending me apparently isn't good enough for me either. (It does need work. The AC is busted, and the left rear speaker is blown. Plus there are other things going wrong with it that I probably don't know about yet.)

So basically, I am not allowed to drive the car that I actually own, I am not allowed to own the car that actually drives, and I have to magically pull enough money out of my ass to either buy someone else's hunk 'o junk or put myself into massive debt. All on my own. I have no say in the matter.

You see, my parents really do care. (Actually they do. My dad was really sweet and bought me a little fan that plugs into the cigarette lighter, to help with the airflow in the van.)

But I do have the minivan for the moment, and despite the lack of air conditioning it's not so bad. (The blown speaker is very annoying though.) It's so nice to smoothly glide down the road, the engine responding gracefully to the small amount of pressure I need to actually make the thing accelerate. On-ramps are no longer an obstacle to my merging onto I-4. I can pass those intimidating semis (and other large vehicles) with ease. I may become incredibly spoiled by this.

Plus, a little miracle of nature showed up this morning. As I looked behind me to make sure I wasn't hitting anything/anyone whilst backing out of my space, I noticed a perfectly made spider's web hung between the backseat and the floor of the trunk, gleaming in the morning sun.

Unfortunately, there was a semi-large, slightly intimidating looking spider sitting smack dab in the middle of it.

Now, I love nature, and I'm happy seeing little bits of it attempting to take back the land from the iron grasp of humainty, just not in my car. I was a jumble of nerves on the way to work, imagining spider legs crawling over me whilst helpless to do anything about it. I checked behind me frequently. The little guy hung on pretty well until I hit about 70 with all the windows cracked. But sure enough, once I slowed down and parked, I saw him sitting in the middle of his web again, waiting for all of the other tasty insects that lived in the trunk to come along.

My coworkers found my neurosis amusing, and refused to give me straight, reassuring answers about anything. I tried to identify my spider online, and found enough information to think that perhaps my fellow passenger was a brown widow. I compulsively searched Google on and off, finding out only just before lunch that perhaps I had only a mere garden spider trying to catch flies in my trunk. But I just couldn't be certain...

To make matters worse, at lunch we all went outside to see if he was still there, and he had vanished. Hopefully he got out of my car the same way he got in (no idea) and I won't see him again. I pray he didn't try to find a shady spot of the car to rest in...waiting until dark to come back out...

Hmm? Oh, right, the rest of my weekend.

My brother is being the awesomest sibling ever and is helping me acquire the pieces of my new computer. The parts will be ordered Friday, and I should have them Monday. Hooray! The only snag being that I may have to figure out how to reinstall XP...Uh oh...

I ran into an old acquaintance on Sunday, and ended up spending the evening with him and his friends. We went for lackluster Thai food (the company was great, the food was okay, the restaurant experience was off), and then I finally went to the famous Southern Nights, the gay club down the street from my apartment. We drank, we danced, we made merry. I was made deaf my speakers that were cranked to a level appropriate for a Saturday night dancefloor packed with people, not a Sunday night dancefloor sprinkled with myself and my companions.

I was very flattered when the lighting guy came out of the booth to (I am assuming) compliment my dancing abilities. Such a sweetie! I told him I work for the company that sold his club the lights, and we had a nice little bonding moment. I think I will have to return. Plus there is something so wonderful about being able to drink as many vodka tonics as I can afford, only to drunkenly stumble home later. Single girl walking home drunk? Dangerous? Nah...

Friday, June 10, 2005

Where is My Mind?

Waaaaaaaay out in the water.

See it swimming.

So it has been brought to my attention by one of my "fans" (cleverly disguised as my boyfriend) that it has been a rather long time since I've posted here. And since I am always out to please my fans, I've come back.

There's just been a lot going on, both on the inside and the out, and I've been caught up in the malestrom of it all. So where to begin?

Well, for starters, I should remark that it has also been pointed out to me by another avid reader that there are those amongst you that might not understand 1337sp34k (or "leetspeak"), and therefore did not get my clever little joke about the Yakov Smirnoff theater. For those who didn't get it, "pwn3d" translates to "owned" which the Microsoft Parent's Primer to Computer Slang defines thusly:

"pwn": A typo-deliberate version of own, a slang term often used to express superiority over others that can be used maliciously, depending on the situation. This could also be spelled "0\/\/n3d" or "pwn3d," among other variations. Online video game bullies or "griefers" often use this term.

You can see how I would find a lot of amusement out of this, as I am one of the last people on the planet who would even remotely consider myself "1337."

In other news, my motherboard apparently became a casualty of one of our typical Florida afternoon thunderstorms, despite my surge protector's best efforts. At home I now have no internet, no iTunes, no way to create art digitally, no way to make music, no way to watch Robot Chicken. I am suffering withdrawl, and I believe this qualifies me for honorary geek status.

And if internet withdrwal doesn't do it, the fact that I am now on a mission to piece together my own modded out machine definitely does. My training is almost complete. Soon I will be a padawan no more! In the meantime I'll probably be borrowing an old and busted hand-me-down system from my parents, to get me re-connected to my little online world. Oh the agony! The frustration! Well, y'know, I could, like, always draw or something... But what would be the fun in that?

Speaking of old and busted, I think I may be losing my car soon. I've clung to her desperately for years. How could I ever betray my beloved Stella? She has been with me through thick and thin, hauling around theatrical supplies, friends, art, and the contents of my various dorm rooms and apartments for nearly ten years. I have had wild delusions of keeping her and rebuilding her (better, faster, stronger), making her the most badass Volvo around. But my parents have gently suggested to me that this can never happen, and I must take on another, more reliable vehicle in the meantime. They've even offered an old vehicle of theirs to get me by. It's not bad. It's got way better pickup, a decent stereo, loads of room. The catch?

It's a minivan.

Can I stress that word enough? Make it drip blood even? Iesus Christo! A muthafuckin' 1995 Honda Odyssey!? *weary sigh* I can feel my bohemian, "indy-rock-cool" self draining slowly away... However, if it does become mine outright the first thing I am going to do is plaster a NIN sticker very prominently on the back, followed by various other stickers to assert my dominance of personality over my vehicle. By the by, have I mentioned that I'm actually a punk sixteen-year-old masquerading as a mature young woman of twenty-five?

And before I get back to work, an update on the therapy front. I have found a psychologist, and I see her this Saturday afternoon. Hopefully she's down with the fact that I am Pagan and psychic. (For real yo! Bitch, I'll read your tarot cards somethin' good!) If not, the hunt continues...

And yeah, if you live in the Orlando area (or talk to me online or over the phone), I really will read your cards for you if you ask. 'S no trouble. Honest.

Monday, June 06, 2005

So did I tell you?

Hooray! I got paid today!

Okay, so did I tell you that my checkbook got stolen last weekend? (Well, perhaps it just mysteriously disappeared...) Oh yeah, I didn't.

Well, anyway, in keeping up with a yearly tradition (three years running now) something happened to apparently compromise my bank information and I have had to switch my account number. I was really sweating the weekend as I was counting on getting paid on Friday, but due to the nature of direct deposit and having to redirect numbers and whatnot, I was told I would not get paid until Tuesday.

It's Christmas come early! Woohoo! Now I get to pay my credit card bill! (This actually gives me pleasure, believe it or not.)

As part of this yearly tradition, what seems to follow my bank info being compromised is some sort of huge personal change in my life. The first time, I quit smoking. (Hey, I lasted two years. That's more than a lot of people.) The second time, I got the job at Techni-Lux and left the world of part-time retail far behind me. This time? That remains to be seen.

I am, however, hopeful for the best.

Speaking of funny dreams (yeah, I know, I wasn't...)

Last night I dreamed I was sort of dating Robin Williams. Now, I don't know how this actually came about, as from what I remember it was just fact at that point, but it was rather amusing to have my family know, and to call him by his first name and whatnot. There was some issue with me about making sure that he knew that I was interested in him still (for some reason. I think I was dating other people at the same time?), and that I wanted to make time for him. But my efforts were all in vain, for the next night I discovered he blew me off for two blonde bimbos.

I was a little hurt.

I ended up yelling at the talking statue of Bush (W., not H.W.) that stood in the security area (don't ask), so when my unknown friend showed up to hang out, we had to sneak through other floors of the building. (Dream logic is fun!)

So, how was your day?

Friday, June 03, 2005

"T" is for Therapy

That's right boys and girls, I'm gonna go try to get my head shrunk yet again. Maybe something will stick this time?

I dunno, I've been feeling pretty cruddy lately (except for vacation time with the boy). It's started to bounce around in my head that maybe I need actual professional help. Not like I haven't had it before, but this time I'm going to an actual "psychologist" instead of just a "therapist." (No, no psychiatrist. Hopefully I won't need one of those.)

I know all about the difference. I researched it on Google yesterday. This makes me a smart person.

Perhaps I'll update with "progress" from time to time, but for the moment, laugh at this person's silly typo!

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Nobody thought my Photoshopping was funny!?


And I know that six of you are now zombies. But no one posted a comment about it. Even the undead can post a comment on a blog!

Aaaaand I know that the majority of you seem to be using Internet Exploder instead of Firefox.

What is up with you people???? (After all, tabbed browsing is most definitely where it's at.)

Ah, no, I'm not all that upset honestly. But I am terribly disappointed. I thought "surely, surely someone will make a comment about my funny things while I am away for the weekend." But noooo. Y'all have to be all quiet and stuff. I see how it is...

Speaking of the weekend, yay I got to see my boy! *claps hands repeatedly* Hee hee, that was the funnest most bestest weekend I've had in a long time, and very close to the "romantic getaway of my dreams." We played Katamari Damacy and Midnight Club 3, and went to a really (really) nice sushi restaurant (you can tell how good the sushi joint is by the quality of their miso, and OMG it was good), and met up with several friends from the area that I thought I'd never get to see again, and watched a few movies. Upon the discovery that I had never seen Predator, it was immediately decided by all that this anomaly must be remedied. (Now I too wish to be a sexual Tyrannosaurus...) And then I demanded to see Secratary and Unleashed (both quite awesome in their own way. Ass thumpings all around actually.). We also tried to catch what's-his-face's Metropolis (the creator of Astro-Boy, not Fritz Lang, although the anime was inspired by stills from the movie), but unfortunately it ran longer than the dvr's allotted recording time, so it cut out just when things were getting really really good (dammit).

We also got in lots of quality touchy-feely time, something I am sorely lacking at home. I could say it's amazing how important touch is to me, but I don't find it amazing, just profound. Not even sex, just touching someone. Basic human contact. (Well, yes, sex is profoundly important too...) I recall the more affectionate days of my youth, and sometimes I wonder what happened.

But any way, I had a really wonderful time. The boy is quite a pleasure to spend time with, physical contact or no, and adorably geeky. (I think I helped convince him to spend a theoretically ungodly sum on a really wicked sick new video card.) He also has a taste for hip hop, and happily gave me a collection of NWA tracks to listen to, which I did on the flight back.

Appropriately enough, it rained when I left, and the vocalizations of Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, and Easy E carried me home, where I encountered a tremendous thunderstorm in the sky. Huge billowing clouds barely visible save for the little dances of lighting between them.

My flight was delayed about 20 minutes as a result.

And, as always, the humidity was there to greet me as I stepped off the plane. I'm not sure if "home" is what I think when I breathe it in, but it's familiar, and I find that I've usually missed it while I was gone.
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