this doesn't even make sense.

Lately I have trouble sleeping at night. At first I thought it was because the vent blasted heat into the room at the same time every day (around 4:00 am), pouring heat into every corner and forcing me out of my slumber because I thought I was baking alive.

But then I shut the vent.

And once I did I slept through the night for the first time in weeks. It was wonderful. But now I am having the problems again. Problems falling asleep. Problems staying asleep. Problems where I wake up anxious that I am going to oversleep only to realize that it's 1:00 am...and then continue to do so at 15-45 minute intervals for the rest of the night.

Now, my dad has had nightmares consistently since he came home from Iraq. He doesn't sleep for very long, maybe 3-5 hour stretches. Every night  he ambles into the kitchen, pours himself a half glass of milk, drains it, sets the empty glass in the sink (without rinsing it, of course), and then heads to bed. I asked him once why he did it and he told me that the proteins in the milk help you sleep. He said it was his equivalent to a glass of warm milk....he was just saving time and energy by drinking it cold. He said it helped him fall asleep when the anxiety started to kick in. When I started having trouble sleeping at night, I thought of him and his standard glass of milk before bed and decided to give it a try.

I don't know if it's helping me sleep any (I'm still awake, aren't I?). It is making me homesick, though. I miss my family.

You know that thing where I am a little bit (extremely) ridiculous?

Yeah. It happened real bad today.

Perhaps I should explain.

You know that thing that happens once a month where my uterus sheds it's lining and I go apeshit in the process? That is happening right now. For the most part the only side effect I've been experiencing is an incessant urge to eat everything in my path that might be edible/have a flavor, which has been a nightmare in and of itself...I've gained 5 lbs in 3 days because I can't stop eating! Today, however, the irrational rage showed up and about 2/3 of my way through my work day I became so simultaneously thirsty and angry I genuinely thought I was going to chug a glass of water and then smash the glass into a wall. I deliberately did NOT get a glass of water because I was so unnerved by the desire. I did a pretty okay job of keeping it together, and even managed to make plans to go the the movies with Marisa in between battling the urge to put my fist through my computer screen and being moderately productive. 

To ensure that I'd make it safely through the rest of the night, I decided to take a post-work pre-movies nap. This is where everything went wrong. I fell asleep before I could remember to turn my phone off silent....so I didn't get any alerts/messages. Like the ones Marisa sent me asking if I were still one of the living.  So yeah, I did not wake up until around 6:45pm which was too late to make it to my favorite theatre where we were going to see Gulliver's Travels (finally). 

So, how am I coping with it all? I am about to go drown my sorrows in Mexican food. Fuck you, hormones.

If my face itches am I going to die?

This is the part of my blog where I am going to talk about shit that gives me low self-esteem and how I try to combat it.

In high school I was fat, awkward, and had braces. My saving grace was clear skin. I might have a slight, tiny zit every now and then, but nothing compared to the painful blemishes a lot of my friends were dealing with. That, apparently, was not to last. The past few years have been complete hell on my skin. I've tried every different over the counter product I can get my hands on, with little or no results.

Once I got comfortable enough here to open up and lament my fate to my co-workers/roommates/friends, Micah mentioned that I should try this stuff his mom got for him when he was hiking the AT (Appalachian Trail). In the spirit of nothing left to lose, I gave it the ole college try. It's a four hour spot treatment for zits you already have. I used it and had pretty positive results, but it wasn't PREVENTING the outbreaks which is ultimately what I was working toward. I decided to try to find a face wash that had the same active ingredient the spot treatment had in it, and Marisa suggested I try the face wash she uses, which contained benzoyl peroxide, the ingredient in question.

I purchased a bottle, brought it home, and immediately began to use it that night, on the same schedule I used my previous face wash: twice a day, once in the morning, once before bed. The following afternoon, after two washes, my face was rough and itchy. Like....clawing my face off itchy. Like message everyone I know to ask if I my itchy face might result in my death itchy. By the second night, the third time I was washing my face with it, my skin burned when I applied it. I consulted Dr. Wikipedia and learned that a few of the less common side effects of it are itching, burning, swelling, and sensitivity. I read on to see if there was any risk of my face peeling off. I could not discover any concrete evidence pointing toward total facial destruction, but I decided to cut down to using it once a day until my skin develops a tolerance for the benzoyl peroxide. You know, just in case.

My face itches less now, but it's still red and rough right under my eyes. I feel like that will fade. The best news, however, is that my skin has cleared up CONSIDERABLY. Like, I don't have massive exploding zits on my face, and this is the time of the month for them IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

So, this is a picture of me and my much clearer skin (and my incredibly silly hair).

Yeah. That's what's up.

Spring Cleaning

I got an email from blogger about their new Blogger in Draft thing, and while playing with it I accidentally set my blog to look like this. Whoops! It's pretty nice though, right?

I have been struggling to hold onto my anxiety lately. I find myself unraveling with less external influence. It doesn't take much to set me off, and then I find myself in a screaming while cleaning frenzy. Today, for example, I woke up around 9:00 am because I was hungry. I got up, got dressed, and somewhere between putting my contacts in and brushing my teeth, I FLIPPED MY SHIT. When I got to the kitchen I put the dishes away, loaded the dishwasher, started directing the kids to doing this and that and the other. I cleaned the stove and the microwave. I cleaned the counters. I cleaned the vent on the microwave. I had the kids clean the fridge, clean windows, clean the front of the stove. We cleaned off the bar, moved the kitchen table downstairs. We vacuumed the living room, and then the formal dining room which we then cleaned out and ate dinner in for the FIRST TIME SINCE MY PARENTS BOUGHT THIS HOUSE IN 2004.

Yeah. It was kind of out of control. The house does not even look the same with the kitchen table downstairs. The kitchen looks massive. It is nice and easy to navigate in. Also, since we rearranged the living room and added my futon and recliner and coffee table, we've managed to keep it cleaner and more organized. At this point, three rooms in the house are pretty well taken care of. We do need to clean out and organize the bookshelves in the living room, but that is really all that is left in those three rooms.

Once we get those sorted, we plan to start on the family room/Phillip's room and my room. Since I am going to move my stuff down into Jason&Liz's old room in the basement, Phillip will get his old room back and then my mom will have the family room to, you know, use as a family room. That room is going to be the worst because it has a bunch of my shit, a bunch of gardening shit, and then a bunch of Phillip's nasty nasty nastiness. Plus, whatever grossness the kids left there when my mom wasn't watching them while I was away at camp last summer.

So, yeah. We are harnessing the power of my anxiety to do our spring cleaning.

OH, and hilariously, when we were moving the bar to clean out behind it and spray for ants/spiders I found a dead mouse. Rural Missouri, you are a mess.

Splish Splash

Splish splash, I am one busy bitch.

I have spent the last week going looney tunes with work, family, and my car.

On the work front, everything is going great. I am really comfortable with my work, and it's really nice because it's so clean there. So, I don't pull my hair our as often having anxiety attacks over the clutter and mess in my homelife. It's nice to have that peace. On a sad front, I think I have gained like 7 pounds since I started working there since all I do (once my cleaning is done) is sit on my ass eating oreos and watching TV. I need to start bringing some carrot sticks or nuts or something. I DID run up and down the downstairs hallway the other day when there was nobody else there. That should count for something. Man, I am weird.

On the family front, I don't even know where to begin. Jason and Liz got moved into a house three doors down (the first person to leave a comment about the band is getting smacked in the genitals the next time I see them), and that's pretty cool because when I start to freak out I can just run down to their house. Which rules. We bought my mom a laptop for her birthday (we being my dad, Samantha, and me). Of course, when it arrived, though, the wireless did not function properly. I spent a day on the phone with Linksys (who frankly, if I may be so bold, sets the standard for tech support) getting my router's firmware upgraded (which I know how to do, now, because I watched while she remotely accessed my parents' computer), and after that did not fix the issue with the laptop, I sent that shit back. We ordered her a new one and look forward to getting it soon and SO HELP ME GOD IF IT DOESN'T WORK RIGHT!!!!!

On my car front, I got the fusible link repaired, a new timing belt, a new waterpump, new tires, new tirerods, and an alignment. As soon as I get the windshield replaced, I will be able to get it registered and plated and then OH MY GOD I WILL HAVE MY OWN CAR! I thought we were going to die driving it to get new tires put on it. When they took them off they told me that one of the tires had at least two cans of fix a flat in it. If I ever see that guy I bought the car from again, I am going to punch him in the sternum. What a fucking idiot. Oh well.

I got a haircut last week. Or this week. I can't remember. And I got contacts today. So, now I look like this:

I know. I am one pretty lady. It's hard to believe I am single.

My friend Nats started a movie reviewing blog called Sculpting in Time. I've added it on the side over there, and if you like movies, reviews, or stuff that is really well written you should check it out. Tell her Kashmir sent you. Hurr hurr.

Keepin' it real.....real awkward.

I went away to camp for three months this past summer. While I was gone my parents found Jesus. I thought Samantha was kidding when she told me, but she was completely serious. I flew home on a Saturday. The next morning my mom woke me up to ask me if I wanted to go to church with them. Me. In a church. Can you imagine? I laughed because I thought she was kidding, but the look in her eyes stopped me mid-chuckle...she was honestly inviting me. I declined as politely as I could.

Now, I have the advantage of having a sister who is just like me. We are a pair of liberal, pagan heathens (it is possible that is redundant, but we had a neighbor growing up who referred to children as "heathens" so I associate that word more often with wild children rather than godless hellions). I have a partner in staying home Sunday mornings, even though I am usually the one staying home and she is usually the one going to work what with my current state of unemployment and her current state of employment.

Now, let me be clear, I don't actually care if my parents go to church. I wouldn't even care if Samantha started going to church. If that makes them happy (and please allow me to assure you, it makes them VERY happy) then I am all for them going. I am just not going. And it kills my mom. It just eats at her that we are not interested in going to church. I am sorry, I have never been to church with you before in my life...I am 24 years old, don't try to help me find Jesus now.

For Thanksgiving the church had a lunch/dinner party thing after the service. Both of our parents wanted us to go, and Samantha was on board, but they didn't wake her up beforehand, so she didn't get the chance to go. Sweet. I was not so lucky this time around. Samantha made it a point to let our parents know she wanted to come to the Christmas program and dinner, and if she was going to go that meant I had to go. Not only because I couldn't send her alone, but because I would NEVER hear the end of it.

So, this morning we got up bright and early (you know, at like 9:30 am!) and got ready for the program. We elected to skip the service and show up, instead, for just the Christmas play...you know...Joseph&Mary and the angels and the shepherds and the wise men and Jesus and all that. Samantha had drove across town to pick Cheri up since her daughters were both IN the play and everyone agreed it'd be sweet for her to get to see them, so we showed up a little after the play started. Once we found the door, we realized we had to wander through the ENTIRE cast waiting for the cue to start their way down the aisle to the front of the church.

Awesome.

We interrupted the entire thing and managed to make it to an empty pew IN THE FRONT of the church (since, for some reason, everyone was sitting in the back). Cheri went in first with Samantha right behind her, and they both sat down without leaving me any room, so I had to make them move down further. At this point, I would say I was definitely wishing for an anonymous death. There were 30 people trying to figure out who the fuck we were and what we were doing there...of course, it became all too clear when CC came tearing out of the back squealing "MOMMY!" at the top of her lungs. We sat and enjoyed the show (my dad was a wise man, Shelby was an angel, and Zeb was a shepherd).

After the play (and after "Joseph" knocked an ENTIRE pew over), everyone wandered into the back to eat. Because what is a Christmas play w/o tons of food, amirite? Samantha and I are obviously very uncomfortable, but she was willing to wait it out, so I sucked it up and kept my mouth shut. My dad introduced us to the pastor, which was painful, and then we, too, made it to the back corner and took up shop at what I referred to as the pagan table with the structurally questionable chairs. I mean, these chairs looked like they were being held together by rust and miracles, so yeah, I did not sit down because I was seriously terrified that the chair would not hold me. Being fat rules.

Our mom came back to say hi and introduce us to some more people. We mumbled hello uncomfortably, and then were offered food by several passersby, our parents included. My mom asked me 5 or 6 different times if I wanted a plate. Even Samantha asked me. I said no every time. I was not hungry, and I couldn't focus on eating, I was too busy trying to keep from throwing up, crying, or both with my fantastic luck. As the other tables filled, patrons wandered down to our table and began taking seats there. Again I was told "you can eat, if you want to," to which I politely replied "no thank you, I am not hungry." I KNOW I AM ALLOWED TO EAT. I COOKED HALF THAT SHIT. IF I WERE HUNGRY, I'D EAT. BUT I'M NOT HUNGRY.

At around this point, Samantha had managed to fix herself a plate of food and to bring us both glasses of tea, but neither of us was comfortable. At all. My mom asked me AGAIN if I wanted a plate, and I told her to stop asking me because she was going to give me a panic attack. I think it hurt her feelings, but what was I supposed to tell her? No was not cutting it, and I wasn't going to say yes because I have better things to do than lie about wanting a plate of food. Yeesh.

After a bout of child wrangling (our three were absolutely horrid, but that's par for the course) that resulted in me standing in the kid's area watching over Zeb and CC plus two other kids I didn't know to make sure they cleaned their plates and watching Shelby stand in the corner for a timeout because she kept playing with her food, we traded keys with my dad and got.the.fuck.out of there.

I came home, changed back into my pajamas, and went back to bed in the hope that I would be able to mentally lower my blood pressure.

Never. ever. ever. again. I hope they know that.