'Yes, shouty, too ... but the fisting is one thing that Camile doesn't do.' by Kara
Thursday, April 30, 2009 at 10:56 AM

I'm doing something I know Co-Writer's done before, but that I never have. Because I've really never needed to. But I do today. I'm typing my rant well in advance.

Well, 'well in advance' means I started this at about 9.30 this morning and I'm going to be coming and going from it as I do work. Because this is gonna take a while. A fair while. Because the reason I haven't been ranting isn't because I have nothing to say. It's because I have tons and tons to say, but I've been in such a stupor from everything happening to me at once that I haven't really been able to focus it into any sort of coherent thoughts.

This is gonna be long. Possibly longer than the Japan travelogue.

Where to begin.

The foundation of this three-weeks-running mood is something I really shouldn't talk about in any sort of detail. I'm sure I could. I'm sure I'm entitled to. But I just don't want to. I don't think I could handle bringing any more hell down on myself at this point after the fact. I just don't want to listen to people's reactions. Suffice to say I ended up being jerked around in something that only had a passing amount to do with me, but I ended up being affected by it more than I really cared to be. For a longer time than I cared to be.

That's all on that. But it was wound up properly huge, to the point that it alone was driving me up the wall.

Now when something has such a strong foundation, after a while anything -- even stuff I could usually laugh off and ignore -- becomes hellish. Issues at work, little things I did wrong, influenced by co-workers in a bad enough mood to be really upset about it. I was already antisocial at work. A few snide comments were made at me on other issues, and I ended up snapping at a lot of people over it. I apologise to some, but not to all, because some of the things said to me would be dickheaded no matter what my mood.

On a recent weekend, I started getting tiny things. Insults to my work, mainly. I would have been able to handle this any other weekend, but in the midst of feeling like I was the one who started a mammoth issue (Co-Writer will read this rant and come back shortly after, or possibly in the middle of this paragraph, to tell me I'm still wrong and it's still not my fault), it just added to my pile of Can't Do Anything Right-ness. Insult to my artwork may, however, have been vaguely understandable, as at this point I was shaking so much on a regular basis that I knew I wasn't doing my best.

I decided, fuck it, I'm gonna go do one thing I know I can't fuck up. I'm gonna go buy frames for these cels I've been meaning to hang up. I measured everything and went off to Michael's to do just this. Unfortunately, my inability to focus made me fuck that up, too, and onto the pile it went. My mother came and got hold of me, switched out the frames so I could get the monsters taken care of, then took me over to her place so I could get some food and relax for a bit. I brought over a movie she'd been wanting to see, and she was going to take control of the TV in her husband's den (they each have their own -- a very pink one for her, a rather manly one for him) so we could watch it on the big screen.

We settle down to this ... and okay, perhaps I should not go into detail here, either, as I have no way of knowing who reads these rants. Suffice to say, we were interrupted by someone letting themselves in, coming up, sitting down, and taking up talking. No, I told my mother later, I don't do this. Far be it from me to dictate who is under someone else's roof, but in a situation like that, where I am attempting to relax and maybe spend some time with my mother whom I have only recently in my 28 years on this Earth been getting to know ... The sort of thing that interrupted us was yet another thing on The Pile.

(Let me pause in the narrative here by explaining that this was not, nor did it become, influenced by PMS, as a few people guessed. PMS does not apply to me for a reason that's really none of your business. On with the story.)

At some point in the proceedings, can't really remember where because this whole period of time is slowly becoming a blur, Co-Writer informed me that his long-promised trip to the shooting range should take place the weekend after RavenCon. I would not believe, he said, just how much that would help. Well, I had no way of knowing, so I couldn't offer an opinion, but God knows I was more than happy to trust him on this point. All I had to do was get through RavenCon, do my best for the shows in spite of how I was feeling (the show must go on, etc.) ...

And then I discovered that the show might not go on. For perfectly legitimate health reasons, the person serving as babysitter for the group leaders might not have been able to make it. I descended into full-on panic mode, which did not lighten up until I had absolute word that it had been fixed.

RavenCon was in a day. I was packing up my stuff, rehearsing my lines, trying to clear my head. I made a quick call to my g'mother to see how they were doing and let them know I'd be out of town for a few days. Well, 'how they were doing' amounted to my g'father not doing so well -- both his hands had gone numb, and he was having all sorts of ridiculous (and, we discovered later, unnecessary) electro-shock tests done. I went into the weekend with this in my head: the knowledge that I would be away from home if something happened, plus the knowledge that if something did happen and I should be called home, the Saturday night show would be cancelled due to being short-casted.

Royally botched up my end of Friday night improv because of this. I just could not focus. Thank God Co-Writer came in to tag out and make up for my magnificent botching. Once he'd gone on his way to where he was staying, I did something I just don't do -- I took off to a stranger's room party. Admittedly, I checked ahead. They were good, intelligent people who served food and ... miracle of miracles ... the guys treated me like an equal, like a legit person to drink with and talk with, and none of them tried to pick me up. I felt incredibly at ease for that night. I traded crazy fan stories with Randy Milholland, got a bit of education on scotch, traded book recommendations (though I was informed that enjoying Sword of Truth makes one a bondage freak ... but if concentrating on Denna's beautiful braid is wrong, then I don't wanna be right), and even ... another thing I never do ... talked ... a bit of politics. Why? How? Because we were talking political history, intelligent stuff, analysis, not right and wrong, no yelling, no arguing over last year's election. I was learning, they were learning. And if you haven't discovered by now, LEARNING is my favourite hobby.

The next day, of course, everything was back on my mind. We both managed to find some time to stabilise before the show. Said show went off well, no thanks to me botching a good few lines, but the audience loved it and everyone else did their thing and was great. Same party group that night, methinks.

No, perhaps not.

I got a chance to catch up with a few people that I never see. As I was about to leave, though, I had one 'gentleman' up in my face telling me in that nervous wide-eyed socially inept way I've (unfortunately) gotten used to that he thought I was really cute and really interesting -- I suppose the pair of scotches followed by the pair of tall mixed drinks I'd partaken of made him think I was drunk. And then he followed me downstairs.

I was informed later that a guy from the group had sent me a txt telling me to go by his room if anything should happen. But my phone is not always quick on the txts and I got it once I was ensconced in my room. Co-Writer told me later that I should have marched right to the front desk. But I was not exactly at my most logical. I ended up losing him and going back to my room. SEIFU.

The next day, I didn't hear from Co-Writer. I panicked, as I am wont to do, and in the meantime had to get home to do my part to help out my g'father. My mother had me come over and gave me food and something (non-alcoholic since I had to drive) to drink. I got word back later from Co-Writer the following day. One less panic. (Again, he's gonna come back to me when he reads this -- with another apology -- but I'd like to point out that I receive this tendency to panic about the well-being of others from my g'mother. And it happens. Nonetheless, it was something in a pair of weeks full of somethings.)

That same Monday, I noticed Goldy had a bit of a ... well ... issue. Sputtering and jerking whenever I switched gears. And wouldn't always necessarily reverse. That night I had a poke under the hood. Oil was fine, everything I could see was fine, hell, even that thing under the hood Co-Writer doesn't know what it is was in place and ... doing whatever it does. Probably transmission issue, then. I'd take Goldy in tomorrow.

But my bad luck with cars decided to extend to my family. And I discovered that my half-sister Ali had been in a hit-and-run down in North Carolina. My mother and her husband rushed down to retrieve her from the hospital. Minor injuries to Ali, her baby wasn't in the car with her, but the car itself was totaled.

I got a call back re: Goldy the next day. Transmission fuse had blown, not surprisingly, but it wouldn't take long to fix. Once they'd taken him out for a test drive, I got a call back. Still some issues. End gasket, end nuts ... does this sound familiar? THAT'S BECAUSE IT IS. This is the same bullshit that was a problem a bit of time ago. Co-Writer informed me that they would not charge me for it, and that I should raise hell if they tried. Don't worry. They'd work on it the next morning.

Next morning I got a ride in, and discovered that my g'father would be getting surgery. Just thought I'd drop that in as a tiny aside there.

A bit later, I get another call. No. Goldy's still not ready. Why? They took him out for a test drive, and ... the transmission fuse blew again. So that would take more fixing.

I'd like to stop again to bring your attention to something you may not have realised at this point. Goldy is my car, right? I use my car to get around. To places like, I dunno, Fredericksburg. No car ... no weekend. This absolutely murdered me. I didn't like to ask my mother in the midst of wondering if Ali was okay if I could borrow one of her cars. She did say yes ... but after Ali's car got totaled, I figured she might need it to get to work and things more than I'd need it. I was potentially car-less. No. No no NO.

Well, fortunately, NO. Later that afternoon Goldy was mine again. It was the transmission harness. But now it was fixed. They also fixed a flat that had mysteriously appeared in one of the tyres. Whatever. But ... and here is the one and only lovely sparkly thing to happen to me in THREE WEEKS ... they didn't charge me for the end gasket nonsense. I didn't even have to ask.

That said, I'm still antisocial. Really rather, to the point that (as horrible as I feel for it), I'm skipping my mother's friend Tammy's Friday night out. Big party. But that's Tammy's night ... as of 1 May, she's five years cancer-free. I refuse to be somewhere like that if I've got even a speck of selfish anger left in me. Were I to go, I'd want to be able to celebrate and drink and eat steak with my mind on life. Not on Drama with friends and creepy stalkers and car problems and other people's health issues. I will, however, buy her something pink. But selfish or not, I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with groups, anyway. Not until I've blown off steam and cleared my head.

I'm getting the fsck out of Newport News tomorrow. And Saturday I'm going to shoot things. And I'm hoping to God Co-Writer is right about this.

Anyway ... see why I haven't been ranting?... I thought you might.

If you have been ... good night.

"I've discovered Rickys weakness! All I have to do is Pee in his face and I'll win!" by Rob
Thursday, April 30, 2009 at 9:16 AM

Well then, it's almost the weekend and you know what that means? We gets to shoot stuff! Aside from the imminent carnage that the artist and I will undoubtedly leave in our wake, I'm sure we'll sit and watch stuff and have some rleaxin' all round. Perhaps if the weather's not 40 and rainy again(like it is now) we can go to the classic ice cream stand.

Ravencon went as well as can be expected, the standup was in full swing when I got there, and then I got dragged up while still dressed in my leathers. Jokes abounded of course. Harry Potter in 45 went off pretty good...save me stepping in for a part a bit early. Other than that it was a beautiful weekend and much riding ensued...now if the weather would only co-operate NOW.....Don't tease me like that and then take it away...I get hungry then....you wouldn't like me when I'm hungry....

Costume con is also this weekend....but due to finances and time, I won't be going. Instead I'll be staying home, cleaning and watching games 1 and 2 of the eastern semi-finals Stanley Cup playoffs. Boston all the way baby....

Resistance of the CUP is FUTILE!!!

Neo-Vader III

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