Cake Parade

Obviously, it’s been a rough summer (I say obviously because I haven’t written since June).

It’s August.

I have oral surgery tomorrow morning to remove my wisdom teeth. I leave for France in 3 weeks. I’m dating. I’ve been working longer and harder than ever; I’m being rewarded accordingly with a fall increase (yay!).

I’m slowly falling for Cat #2. She’s incredibly sweet; I think if she weren’t as easy going as she is, I wouldn’t even begin to let myself like her. Not just because I’d be betraying Shadow but because, well. She’s not mine. Shadow was born under my futon. He loves me SO MUCH. Nothing can trump that.

Anyways. It’s August. 20th. 12:50am. I have oral surgery in 6 hours. I should probably, you know, get the fuck off youtube. Sleep.

I’m missing Perimeter Ride and Marauders so that I can get my wizzies yanked. Boo. They gave me 15 Vicodin. Best. Consolation Prize. Evar.

Fish Tacos

I had a dream that I was eating swordfish at this really spectacular buffet.

State of the Union

Two awkwardly related things: I have a new cat, and I’m out of credit card debt.

For the moment.

Because, you know, dentist visit coming up next month and I’m 1000% positive that I will need work that I might or might not be able to afford.

I’m on track for saving for France.

And, that’s enough about money.

It’s SPN/J2 Big Bang season. And summer blockbuster season. And wow, is global climate change incredibly apparent right about now in Chicago.

My father is in town this weekend and we’re supposed to hang out tomorrow. And I am attending a wedding next weekend. And.. I. I dunno. I feel sad. I’ve been so incredibly busy lately, and now that I’ve finally slowed down enough to take stock I don’t exactly like how I feel.

I’ve decided on a Masters program and I plan on attending beginning this winter. I’m scared that I won’t be accepted into the program.

I asked for a raise at my job. (And we’re back to money.)

I have a big presentation that I’m working on, due next month. I had a pre-presentation today with my Dean and she liked the parts that I put the most work into, so that felt rewarding.

I’m trying to eat healthier. It started out as trying to eat cheaper and ended up being primarily vegetarian and not buying food at work. I’m saving a lot of money and I am eating so much better as a result.

Exercise has been somewhat on again off again. I really want to be doing something ~3 times a week, and so far I’ve been sucking at that pretty hard core. Maybe do less after work? Because this is the first night in 2 weeks that I’ve been home before 10:30pm.

Enough of the rambling. I’m to bed.

 

Dentist

I finally (FINALLY) went to the dentist. It’s been a year and a half since I finished the year’s worth of work my dentist and I had scheduled; a year and a half since she dropped the bomb (hey, it felt like it at the time) that now that she was done with all the new work, she could see that my old work was shoddy and starting to decay, and she needed to start working on it, stat.

It was just as bad as I thought it was going to be, which is to say not at all painful and terribly expensive. I had one crown and a fill, so I go back in two weeks from now to get the crown, you know, crowned.

And then she gets to do a cleaning and an x-ray and look at two more old fillings.

Is it ever over?

Oh, right, the answer is no because once that’s done I have to get my wisdom teeth pulled. At least I’ll be unconscious for that, right?

That Thing You Do

Having to budget this month is making me realize exactly how much money I waste by eating out for breakfast and lunch instead of bringing my own.

I normally spend about $15 on just breakfast and lunch every day. If I bring food, even stuff that I want to eat and that I will eat (picky, picky me), I can do breakfast for $3 instead of $5, and lunch for $4 instead of $10. So I’m spending $7/day instead of $15. That’s $140/month instead of $300, just on breakfast and lunch during the work week.

I really, really need to do this when I’m not broke. Separate food budget from spending budget and actually, you know, use my kitchen.

Dollar/Bills

I am so frustrated today. Every time I start to get a handle on my debt something comes up that I have to pay for. Already this week: $330 for the flight to Florida for a wedding; $150 to fix my bike, which was vandalized last fall; and now $720 to replace a crown. Probably future dental costs because another tooth just started giving me pain.

I can either use the money I was saving for France for my dental work, or I can put it on my credit card. Either way, I need to schedule it and get it done and stop worrying about it. And I need to book my hotel for Florida so I know exactly what my expenditure for that is going to be.  Once both of those are done, I can actually budget for France.

Ugh. There is never enough money. Once this is over, I need a mattress for my bed, and a chair since I won’t have a futon anymore. And then, you know, school. Which is going to be expensive. I need a raise. Or a sugar momma.

Not Quite

I don’t always feel like a girl.

Sometimes I have no sex, just an assigned gender.

Sometimes I’m a boy. Sometimes I’m a girl.

I like being a girl. It’s easy, it’s playing on my breasts (they’re amazing) and the sway of my hips; it’s being everything I’m expected to be, it’s being everything I’m not: weak, careful, pretty. It’s being everything I am: strong, angry, nuclear.

But.

I like being a boy. Being a boy is fraught with indecision and uncertainty. I’m comfortable in the clothes, in the walk, in the way my hips move that way. In the aggression and the anger. I like being loose, being quiet, being hard, being fast.

And I know that my gender and my sex are entirely different, and that what I mean is that I switch gender, not sex. I like my pussy, I like my clit, I wouldn’t trade them in for a dick (even though I dream about being male, fantasize about being male) because they’re just… me. I gender male but I sex female. And I don’t get why I can’t … be that.

I am that.

To me, it’s the same: wearing a low cut top and skinny cords one night, baggy jeans and a loose tee another. I identify as a female all the time but play the homo, the het, like I don’t know what I want, because.

I am everything and in between.

So. I guess this is genderqueer. Somewhere sideways of binary; harsh and sweet to the off side; not quite to the existential left of the dichotomy.

I like it here.