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Wednesday, November 25th, 2009
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12:30 pm - four days off, then back to the 14-hour days
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| Friday, November 6th, 2009
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9:24 pm - mandatory overtime
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| Monday, October 26th, 2009
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5:14 pm - 10.26 - Year Six
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I love you, I love you, I love you.
I love him too. That's how the rest of my life is going to work. That's the only way it can be, the elusive Right Thing To Do that has eluded me all these years.
Today is my first day living with my new fiance. He's lovely. The place is lovely. Two friends announced their pregnancy. Another got promoted. Tomorrow's my thirty-second birthday, and you died six years ago today. I don't jump when I see cars like yours anymore; I have a friend at work with your name and I don't think he even knows about you. I lost my scent memory of you ages ago, although I remember what I was doing on this date in every one of those six years.
Today I felt like I wanted to hide from all the good news, the boxes everywhere, the unfamiliar windows, the reminders... but then I realized something, sitting in my quiet little cubicle with my three monitors, feeling like my ribs are too little to contain it all.
I'm not shared; I'm lucky. And happy. And so very, very sad. Sad for me, for you, for Arnelle and Thomas and Bron, for your friends, for my family, for the industry, for the world that lost you.
feeling: sharp edges dull.
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| Wednesday, October 21st, 2009
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12:15 pm - anything you want in the world
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The next few days were easy, at least on the Moderation front. Glass a day, if that. Gas and USPS and AAA and electricity are set up, but AT&T and the truck are pending. My moving help: Becca, the Italian and my work archnemesis. (Life is weird.) I will need to hit the DMV Friday morning (hope I don't need a new picture... I like my pretty-young-thing one). It seems like in this day and age I should be able to update everything easily online, but I am quickly learning that 95% of web sites that were not at least partially designed and/or developed by me or someone I've worked with are impressively stupid. (AT&T wants to send me an online registration confirmation by mail so I can transfer my service online. I'm afraid I can't do that, as I'm MOVING, which would explain why I want to... gahhhh.)
Poor Zorro... his jerky flatmate moved out and took the router and cables with him in spite of the fact that he's moving in with his parents and won't need them. They work together. How difficult could it be, how out-putting, to hand them over next week so Zorro doesn't miss Ulduar? (FINALLY I can admit I've never liked the guy-- he's really inconsiderate...) It was interesting to talk on the phone with him four times in a night. He really has no idea what to do with himself without Internet access. He's that age, where there was never a time before the Internet. Alien to me. We spend about the same (large) amount of time online, but we must view it so differently.
I probably recommended Ariel eleven years ago in the Spectre days, but I'd like to recommend it again-- I reread it because Steve Boyett finally got around to writing a sequel, twentysomething years after the fact; it comes out in a couple of weeks. Ariel is the most violent, sexual unicorn book you've ever read, and it's a damn good read. The new edition has a very cool afterward that will be of interest to writers.
It's odd that I'm in a reading mood, considering the trouble my little library is causing me at present. Books are heavy. I need more small boxes. Also need to do eight loads of laundry. And print postcards. And call AT&T...
feeling: busy busy buzzy bee.
listening to: shakira feat. lil wayne / 'give it up to me'
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| Monday, October 19th, 2009
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10:00 am - that'll keep you going for the show. come on, it's time to go.
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I knew the first slip would be family. When I arrived at seven, which is when I'd been told to be there, everyone barked at me for not being there at six. My mother, who's not supposed to drink (subdermal morphine pump), was halfway through a snifter. The air was thick with the smells of ham and mashed potatoes-- things I'm not supposed to eat (but did). My grandmother, just returned from the Motherland, gave me more pounds of candy I'll only throw away. I'd asked her to bring me some magazines in German, because my German is fading and that makes me sad. She brought me InStyle auf Deutsch. Should be fun.
I used up all my mana just keeping the peace and steering the conversation to safe waters.
I had an awful night with the whole crazy lot of them and had a third glass at dinner. And subsequently churned all night, feeling sick and terrible. How can that be, after only three dry days? How odd.
The memory of trying to sleep with that bellyache and headache will deter me from doing that again... owee. My eye sockets look skeletal. It's pretty disturbing. Penance.
feeling: sorry
listening to: pink floyd / 'comfortably numb'
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| Friday, October 16th, 2009
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2:46 pm - y0
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HEY! Anyone want to help me move?
Zorro and I are moving in together and I've given away everything I can but still can't handle it all myself. Nobody's volunteered, outside of petite Lisa (who I'd probably have a blast with), so I'm putting out the call. I realize that I'm at an age where most of my friends have back problems. Please don't volunteer if you do. :)
Truck Day will be Sunday the 25th, starting in Costa Mesa (my house) @11a. I'm only moving 2 miles away.
Interested? Lemme know!
listening to: gym class heroes / 'the queen and i'
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8:18 am - bum ba dee doo bum ba dee doo
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I have the shakes pretty bad. Toso noticed. I keep thinking I see something moving, in the corners. I keep thinking about how easy it was to quit smoking.
The hardest part so far, weirdly, is driving. I keep thinking I'm going to run into something, hearing the crash in my head. It's the same clot of frayed nerves that's been bothering me since that horrible accident with Keitaro, years ago, that made it almost impossible to drive with me in the front passenger seat, amplified. (It still is. People laugh. They think it's funny. Or they get angry and snap that they are in control of their vehicles, like that has anything to do with the price of tea in China.)
I don't have much of an appetite, but I let the Italian (my old protogee) take me to Panera, a safe zone which limits its intoxicants to really good soup and bread. Ate a bread bowl of chicken soup with wild rice; drank water. We talked about game design and I got a chance to admit I'm hurt that nobody from my camp has offered to help us move. He blurted that he doesn't think of himself as an eligible adult and looked completely stunned by the revelation that he is in fact an adult. That probably happens to him often, now that he has an amazing design job. He probably keeps wondering if this is really his life; he probably makes twice as much as I do. I can't even imagine being so blessed so young.
The rack's full of white. I won't touch the stuff. There's a huge empty wall, a wide open space where the entertainment center I used to rest my glass on used to be. There was a minibar set up in it; now I've packed away all the hard stuff. It's a really nice piece, but it won't fit in our new place and I'm glad to see it go. My mother mistook it for a giant bookcase when she sent it my way.
I'm going to need more boxes; I've got books piled everywhere. Part of me wonders if I should figure out the new living room's book configuration now, while I have everything handy and a giant open space. It would probably take a load off my mind the first day, to knock out a few boxes quickly. I dunno.
listening to: slim whitman / 'when i'm calling you'
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| Thursday, October 15th, 2009
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8:38 am - how you can help.
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If I appear to be getting really inebriated, or if it's three in the morning and I'm posting about God or abortion, please say privately to me, "Hey. You promised."
Should work. I'm programmable.
Glass or two a day for starters. If I can handle that for two weeks, then I'm probably going to be okay. If I can't, I'll fetch some help. I don't like the religious angle of AA, but it turns out there are other programs. I didn't have a sip yesterday and I'm shaky and jumping at shadows. Today I'll just throw one of my glasses in the soup instead.
Oktoberfest, Halloween and my birthday. You've really gotta hand it to me for timing. =P
feeling: okay
listening to: p!nk / 'sober'
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| Saturday, September 26th, 2009
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3:39 am
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BLOG! Oh my golly-goodness. Hi! Remember me?
The past month has been a blur and I'm expecting the next month to resemble it. Haven't heard from Orm since Con. (Um... you okay?) Had an intensely stressful Con, taking care of my fiance's 14-year-old sister and being with my fiance's ex-fiancee, who barely spoke over the course of two days. Flitted around doing everything for everyone. Talked to the press. Smoothed things out. In the past few years I've discovered that I'm really good at that. But in the end I realized I am nowhere near qualified for or interested in parenthood, and next year I want to go to the coke-nose bone-breaking parties at the Hilton. (No, seriously. A level-one analyst jumped off a roof.) I kept wanting to rip the electronic texting device from the 14-year-old's hands at the dinner table. Are they all like that now?
He surprised me with pretty enamel pins from each of our franchises. It's nice to be surprised, in good ways.
And now we're looking for a two-bedroom apartment, since married people are supposed to live together. We're not legally married yet, and I'm prepared to wait a few years for it, but we might as well be. We're stapled together at the soul, not the hip. It's uncomfortable and weird and I don't know how to deal with what my mother calls "intimacy" (she goes Carly Simon on me here, saying it has nothing to do with sex, but she has a point.... for me, sex has been anything but intimate in the true sense of the word).
Orange and Elden streets are cute, quiet, safe. I feel a bit silly, having lived on the other side of the 55 for this long. Either WestSideRentals isn't as useful as it used to be or Zorro's elitism is influencing our options or everyone else in Orange county is moving right now, but listings are slim, but signs on the street are plentiful.
I'm doing most of the legwork, since he just had surgery and got a new job. Some two-bedrooms list "stove" as a bullet-point amenity. One place had a fireplace in the literal middle of the living room. I viewed an apartment with blood on the carpet; the manager barely blinked when I asked about it. Everyone seems to think we want to purchase and bring our own refrigerator, washer and dryer to an apartment we're renting. I've never bought a refrigerator in my life and have no idea what to look for.
I wasn't kidding when I said he was my favorite human being.
Truth be told, I'm looking forward to his formal entry into the fray. I need someone to judge my consumption, my bedtime hour. I need someone to tell me I'm wrong, that I'm blowing things out of proportion, and that something is bothering me. Best of all, my best friend R. seems to have taken to him. Whew!
When I moved here three years ago, I was moving out after Jones broke my heart. I played "Send In The Clowns" about 20 times a day. I was heartbroken, undersexed, alcoholic, overweight, emotionally hamstrung, painfully in love. Now I have it all together and can't fit my stuff, myself, my life into the old boxes.
Oddly, I've never actually rented a place With Somebody. It's always been ME who compromised, me who moved. Jones and I started looking for a new place together [before he decided he loved but wasn't in love with me... remember that? never thought I'd hear that one!] but didn't go through with it. G. had no spine, Goddess rest his soul.
So here we are, treading new ground together. Neato. I actually like the just-starting-out feeling of it all. It's realistic and people can relate to it. I'm not used to being relatable. Inside of me, fear and excitement seem to like each other. I wonder if the brides and grooms of the 1940s had second thoughts, were afraid of the state of things, harbored sexual thoughts about other people.
The sooner we find somewhere to live, the sooner I'll be able to blog, so cross your fingers for us.
feeling: scaredcited
listening to: roxy music : 'take a chance with me'
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| Saturday, August 8th, 2009
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6:52 pm - Holy carp!
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I have 24 unexpected hours off. In 24 hours, I have to go do my laundry. But until then, I am scott free. Nobody's expecting anything from me. No raids, no airport pickups, no dinner guests, no soul-crushing work, no schedule... absolute, infinite bupkiss.
There are plenty of things I should do, and I plan to get to them, but at the moment I'm just stunned, floored and staring at the clock. I don't think I've had 24 obligation-free hours in three years. I'm short on money, but the house is well-stocked. I could clean anything, read anything, walk over to Borders-- in DAYLIGHT-- if I wanted to! I could finally mend that tear in my favorite black maxi dress! I could call my grandmother! I could lie around on the couch playing video games and reading magazines! I'm short on funds, but the house is well-stocked... heck, I could try out my never-used crock pot! I might go 24 hours without having an argument with anyone!
Frankly, my dears, I haven't the foggiest idea as to what to do with myself! Golly.
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| Friday, June 5th, 2009
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10:49 am - I forgot my name. I forgot my telephone number.
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Waking up today was absolute torture. It was queer, considering I got eight hours of sleep for the first time in a few weeks, but I practically had to drag myself across the room by the seat of my shorts and pour myself into clothing, like Jello into a mold.
I'm getting revenge by not speaking a word of English today. I guess I'll have to if I'm 'informed' that I didn't get the job today (I've known for nearly two weeks), but to everyone else, I'm just mumbling out of the corner of my mouth. I hate erthing an it can eet me. k? My poor fiance appears to have not gotten his job, either.
E3 was almost back to its old bright, bouncy self yesterday. The big building-booths were back; the booth babes were scarcer (get a job...) and more dressed, and swag was minimal, but it was flashy and large and perfect for me; I'm never there to fangirl around and I just threw away about 100 pounds of useless crap from E3, 1996-2006. (Don't worry; I saved everything worth saving and I have the wisdom to know the difference.) We had an amazing lunch at The Farm by the convention center and took the Metro both ways. We didn't get invited to any parties, but I didn't mind, since I barely lasted the day; I'm getting older and trade shows are harder on me now.
There was a bonanza of bizarre peripherals, which seems odd in an age where everyone's cutting back on non-necessities. Gloves were popular (I wanted to try the Peregrine, but half the world flocked to their booth!) and I got to try out Nintendo's balance board (fun skiing game, like a Mario Kart that hurts your buns) and some small company's laggy boxing gloves. I drooled over the third Golden Sun, clowned around with a life-sized Pokemon and tried a bunch of things that are coming out in 2010, which already looks like a damn exciting year for our industry.
I'm really tired of white electronics.
I've been intrigued by High Voltage ever since they got started, but yesterday I finally got them to talk to me. Must have been the suit. They're shockingly nice people with exciting things on the horizon and they seemed to like my fella and I; it's a crying shame they're all the way in Chicago. They're all PC gamers too, but one of their voice actors, of all things, spent half an hour arguing with me that the Wii is the ultimate FPS machine as we played around with their upcoming Conduit. They're my kind of company-- just the right size, and everyone wears multiple hats. [The really funny thing? You're going to think I'm awful for being excited by this... but there were women! Women my age, fit women who bother to do their faces! They weren't hip and insecure 22-year-olds who want a lot of attention from introverted guys or mean lesbians! They were nice to me, polite even (!) and they worked on the games-- they were producers, designers... not PR/artists/QA/support/localization! Holy fucking shit!]
In the spirit of paring down, I've grown to prefer very small swag-- pinbacks, little stickers, styluses, keychains (although I'll always treasure my Sly Cooper beanie). High Voltage gave me a small button that says "I Have Seen the Fnords!" and a miniature red biro with a clear swinging clip mechanism that retracts the pen's point. The button's on my necktie and the pen is sitting on the system concepts book that I use as a monitor stand, at the edge. It's vaguely totemic.
I don't mean to suggest anything, but wouldn't it be funny if after all this trouble and heartache and effort, both of us were welcomed, treated fairly... even appreciated on the opposite side of the country?
feeling: bittersweet
listening to: britney spears / 'amnesia'
P.S. Attn: whoever just renewed my subscription: Wow, thanks so much! But are you ever going to tell me who you are? Thanking the ether just feels so generic, and you've probably been helping for years. Are you a bunch of people? Do you even use LJ? Who are you, mate?
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| Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009
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10:07 am - cruise control
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Oh, LiveJournal... I'm so sorry, baby.
It's not that you're boring or 'not enough' for me, or that I crave variety or think blogmonogamy is an unnatural state, but I just haven't felt like blogging lately and lighthearted, easy Facebook is distracting me.
Please find it in your server to forgive me. I love you.
That said, I apologize in advance for the ads-- my paid account expired and no longer use LJ enough to justify paying for it. I've dropped a lot of things this year in the name of paying my debts off and fighting recession panic-- the Bowl, the museums, vacation. I've become a master of coupon/sale shopping; my bills are a third of what they used to be. I've been throwing away massive quantities of stuff, shedding pounds and pounds of unnecessaries that nobody else would want. (I had one box I hadn't unpacked in ten years, in seven moves. I'm inclined to think I don't need anything in it, but I went through it anyway. It was a time capsule containing crappy stoneware plates, game demo CDs, an anime lunch box, sketches of angels and a pewter dragon holding a crystal. He stays.) It's depressing, but I want to have all my ducks in a row come October, when we move in together. We haven't really started looking for a place yet-- it's too early.
Curiously, I've only done the looking-for-a-place-together thing once before, in 2006, and it wasn't long before Mr. Jones went loco on me and the search query was terminated. We looked at a few places, most of them in my very neighborhood, which I moved out to later, and one frighteningly slick place in South Coast Metro that appeared to be trying to sell us a lifestyle. A friend of mine who moved there later said the place flooded. Ha!
The rest of the time it's been me moving into my boyfriends' pads, which I now realize is not a smart way to operate. I know a lot of Smarter Ways To Operate now. I was excited to impart them to the younger generation, but they don't want to hear it. They stare at me with the same glassy eyes I had eleven years ago when I started blogging, which is why I don't panic when my young fiance wants to fight about absolutely nothing. I remember how enormous and epic everything was when I was his age. I was different though; back then I would take almost anything lying down. He has modern confidence and while his sense of entitlement grates on me now and then, it's probably an improvement over my generation's martyrdom.
I get only one freebie Blizzcon pass this year and two pay ones, although it looks like I'm working the show as usual. (I guess they're cutting back too?) Let me know if you're interested and what you're offering. With the notable exception of Toso, most of my closest friends now work for us. I've tried to make new friends but nobody seems all that interested.
My prestigious, ultra-secure, universally coveted job is now directly responsible for 95% of my happiness and 95% of my sadness, plus my entire social life. It's all tied up in this job.
Still no word on the curatorial position (the perfect internal job I am campaigning for) although I have an inkling that someone else... someone born in 1986(!)... landed it. It's impossible for her to have more experience in the field, so it's probably this Personality Thing people keep telling me to attribute everything to. Landing that job would literally have solved 97% of my problems.
I registered for E3 independently and laid low. I plan to do a little light networking on Thursday (the only day I could get away from the office). I adjusted my suit's hems to make it look less 2003 and am going there fully armed with everyone's press kits and rap sheets, as incognito as possible. I'll have a small part of my posse with me; I hope nobody says anything stupid or gives away our line of work prematurely. I wish I had a briefcase; I should really acquire one, one of these days. A messenger bag kind of spoils the effect.
feeling: sad but determined
listening to: cherish / 'killa'
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| Wednesday, May 13th, 2009
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10:01 pm - 'you got a reaction, didn't you?'
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You all suck for not watching the movie. :(
I'm doing too much. Judging a contest. Helping friends with the technical side of their recent work. Replaced my fried old video card. Doing Lunch, doing Brunch, having meetings, interviewing, being interviewed. I miss my beloved betrothed Zorro, who I've barely seen in a month or so. Clearing my house's cache. Helping my pregnant friend [who also has a 3-year-old who adores me], whose boyfriend just walked out on her. Let's call my friend the Lily; she's the color of a stretched-out white cotton scrunchie, Chinese eyes, glasses on the end of her nose.
I took my mother to a very schmancy tea for Mother's Day and I think what she enjoyed more than anything else was the look on my face when I poked at the sparkling peach nectar and little sandwiches. She couldn't stop laughing and offered to go get me a beer afterward.
Things seemed to pick up suddenly when I started wearing mens' clothing.
I still can't write. I can see every little awry-ism in the things I'm judging and/or editing, but my mind's mouth is stitched shut.
feeling: locked down
listening to: the stripes
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| Saturday, April 25th, 2009
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3:31 am - open house
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| Monday, April 20th, 2009
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3:16 pm - she can't write
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I still can't write, but I'm exhausted, sex-starved and miffed at close friends who know better than to flake on a brunch in my home. I tried to nicely talk to one wife since this is the third time they've done this without even having the decency to call me and she started SCREAMING AT ME IN AN IM?!?!?!?!?!?!?!111. No apology. Just a bunch of 'I don't appreciate's and 'I'll have you know's. I'm really not sure what she was thinking. I guess I need to focus less on inviting people I want to see and invite people who want to see me.
Either way, I'm always disappointed when a girl reminds me why I don't have many girl friends. What the Hell is wrong with people? Did they all have horrible mothers? Everyone thinks they're the single most important human being on the face of the Earth. Virtually nobody brought anything for the hostess, either. Which isn't why I throw these things, mind you (most of the cheap wine ends up in a soup), but sometimes I wonder if people think I have a bacon tree; the average brunch costs me around $300 to throw. This one cost more like $175 due to careful couponing/sale-sniping, which takes a whole lot of time and effort. (And before you say anything, Orm, you're exempt because you guys came from BFE-- I meant it when I said to just bring your sweet selves!)
I'll be fine in a day or two. I just need some rest and perhaps a little time to cool down. And something else. I just don't know what. A glass of wine the size of my head's probably not a bad place to start. After that, a whole lot of sleep and some Echoes of Time with my adorable [and reliable] fiance.
feeling: annoyed
listening to: ashmai of nathrezim
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| Thursday, April 9th, 2009
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11:54 am - sweet lover hangover
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Gods, I frakking LOVE my fiance. Vegas is so much less awful with him! It was a blur of shows, glitter, boob jobs, polyamorous people making us feel square, buses and shuttles and bowling, but there's nobody I would rather have had next to me to giggle with. He makes it almost fun. We played a lot of DS and insulted a Sony employee.
Back to life, back to reality and a mountain of mandatory overtime. I had to cancel two fun plans with Laura and Laeti due to my being chained to my desk until Sunday, and I was only able to do half of my laundry. My toenails each have one little splinter of polish left on them, and I am not a chipped-polish kind of human. I've been playing the DS port of Chrono Trigger, and GOD it's fun. I raised an arena monster, but I won't tell you what kind he is, in case one of you wants to battle me! I wish he was as cute as a smidge, though...
Sunday will be my first full day off in about a month. This patch needs to die in a fire. If you have any extra cooldowns/spare energy, send it in my direction.
Burn, baby, burn. Testing inferno!
feeling: exhausted and sack-of-flour-like
listening to: love + rockets / sweet f.a.
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| Saturday, April 4th, 2009
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2:19 pm - In other news, Vegas.
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Does anyone remember what I like to eat or do in Vegas?
If not, what do you like to eat or do in Vegas?
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| Thursday, April 2nd, 2009
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8:56 pm
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Giving up is so much easier than caring. Faking joy is now much more natural. People like me more.
I don't think anyone knows but you, Blog. Aren't you lucky?
The facts are as follows: I have no hope of getting a real job here, at least not at one half the Company... although thankfully, the Company can continue to use me as a tool for other ends-- ends involving entire weeks eaten by mandatory overtime and being forced to work under my nemesis, but it certainly beats the crap out of unemployment.
I've been told by professional writers and editors that I can't write.
I don't know if it's true, or if it's possible to determine such a thing.
And then anger and disorientation kick in. It feels true, like looking down and noticing the yellow brick road I was born on is a giant plastic CAUTION tape. It feels like I've been duped by my family, teachers, professors in the cruelest possible way. Could they not think of anything else to compliment? Anything else to tell me I was good at? All this time I've been criticizing modern American education and its insistence that every child is ever-so-special, depreciating actual achievements... was I a victim of it, too?
I can hear Gaitskill and Atwood and Oates yelling at me different corners of my brain (I'm nothing special; they'd do it for anyone), but I feel like someone chopped off my arms and cut out my heart, and when I try to say something about it, nothing comes out of my mouth because my tongue is gone too.
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| Sunday, March 29th, 2009
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11:05 pm - when only last year everything seemed so sure
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I give up. I can't fight anymore. I'm exhausted and SO FUCKING LONELY and my days are completely devoid of anything that would charge my batteries or make me feel better. In the face of so much adversity, hope takes too much energy and I can no longer afford it.
They don't want to work with me. Nobody does. People don't like me. They think I'm shifty. They don't like the looks of me, my voice, my bearing.
I give up, and I'll make it look like as much fun as possible.
I can't leave now, as there is no work out there, but from here on I just can't convince myself every week that there's a chance of me getting a real job. It's really starting to hurt. It's like I stopped cutting myself and figured out a way to do it without touching my skin.
Nobody wants me. I've never been in strong demand. I've always been an easy target. But suddenly it's a lot clearer. After all this time, I get it.
feeling: chilled
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| Friday, March 20th, 2009
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10:35 am - ...
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More insult to injury: I have to snail mail to get my refund for our registration. =( Jesus, do I even own envelopes anymore?
I want to leave the office, drink myself half to death, hide in my bed and whimper and feel sorry for myself for a few hours. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that my only vacation in two and a half years has to be cancelled. We did all the right things.
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