this brings me to another thought. does that mean I'm going to have to live here, at romfield, until I'm finished? I sure as hell hope not. I lovemy roommates but I hate them at the same time, because this house is just always clutter....people walk in, drop shit where they stand and then fuck off again. I am guilty of this too... but at least I drop it in my corner of art stuff... or in my room... i don't know. I'm just as bad as all of them, I'm terrible with changing my cats' litter all the time. if they didn't remind me, i'd forget entirely. probably because its in the basement...
but like.. augh.
staying at B's spoils me. with its library and dining room and basement living room....and CLEAN WASHROOMS.....
the kitchen just makes me wet every time i walk in... counter space, everywhere.... clean wood floor....and rarely dishes in the sink.
then I come home and i'm like "yay, home........*open front door*....oh.....ewwww..."
I think neighbours with a yappy dog just moved in next door. fuck me.
I hate posters on the walls. I don't mind the paintings and pictures, but the posters with their frayed edges and wrinkles and "own it on dvd" kill me.... I don't want to live in a dorm anymore.
I guess when all my posters were stolen along with my car after 1st year, I really let it go. It was a cleansing moment for me, for all that it sucked. my video games, skateboard, posters, computer games...a lot of just THINGS left and I just decided that i would never get them back and be done with it. I decorated my room at my dad's with a few paintings and dried flowers.
my room here is mostly just writing on the walls and postcards from people/places.... and pictures of people.
I don't even know where I'm going with this anymore. I want a HOUSE. with style. and homeyness without the insane clutter, bits of paper and shit on the ground, no writhing monsters of tangled cords and wires because people can't put their video games away...no cushions on the floor or stuffed behind the couch--they are meant to lean on! to squish into!... i want decor. and matching sofas. and a non-broken arm chair. and for christ's sake, a fucking bathroom that doesn't have mildew an mold ALL OVER IT.
I'm honestly scared i'm going to ingest/breathe it in one of these days and just keel over in the shower and die and no one will notice until my dead toe plugs the drain and water starts running down the hallway.....
my muscles hurt all over.
Brendan hasn't given me a massage in months because his hands are too sore he says. so i've stopped giving him massages. he used to like it, now i think i just hurt him when i work on his knots, so screw it. but I wish when I asked he'd be happy to do it... i wish i didn't have to ask, really.
its just so hard because my muscles are so tight and sore that I need someone to really rub them out.... not like pitter-patter on my skin. i hate light massages.. they're like teasing.
but yeah.. so i'm sore all over, and won't complain to B because he's been working like mad... and is probably just as sore...
I've been putting off calling companies to book a driver's test and brush up lesson because i've been too busy, but i'd better before new years otherwise i have to take the whole graduated licensing system all over again...
My cat, sam, really needs to go see a vet. like.. its getting bad. but I don't have one, nor do I have a car, nor do I have the money for said vet care....
I've also put off calling my neurologist... the B12 scared me by makign my pee yellow-green ALL THE TIME, so i stopped taking it... but hooray for migraines... so i guess I had better start taking it again... fack.
fack feckity fuck.
I just want a magical fairy to come and help me out, but they don't exist so I've got to suck it up, stop blogging, feed myself and do my god damned homework...and maybe make some phone calls.
at least my new cell phone came... although its costing me more than i thought because "Harry" didnt' give me a reference number, and therefore i didn't get that $20 rebate he promised. I don't want to say anything... because I know we're in the same boat... but Bren did break my other phone, i wish he'd help out a little.. but now i feel like a bitch just for writing that, because i never want money from anyone.
I honestly have a money phobia. I have since I was a kid. it makes me awkward and anxious. when I am at the cash register to pay for something, my heart races and mouth dries and my hands shake like nuts. talkng about how expensive something will be or is makes me feel sick.
My parents used to tell my brother and I the exact situation of their bank account and debt and stuff.... I know they did it so we wouldn't ask for things we couldn't have (it probably killed them to say no), and so that we understood WHY we couldn't go to McDonalds... but it really freaked me out.
I've been saving since I was small, same bank account, and have barely anything to show for it.
I was too afraid to buy stock with starbucks in the summer...
I am too afraid to buy myself new shoes. and way too petrified to buy anything for myself out of pleasure. I've put off buying weed for weeks now.. except a dime from armourtime. (yay rhymed) because as much as i like it.. i'm getting scared.
money disgusts me... I wish I could just trade massages or hugs or paintings or sketches or tailoring for a year for things that I need. I'll barter you with cookies for vegetables...
I want a house, but how i'm ever going to afford living anywhere other than here, i don't honestly know.
i wish lotteries weren't rigged.
