Getting shown at least one apartment tomorrow.

This will be the, um, third apartment showing I've ever done in my life. First was in a neighborhood so freaky we'd already decided not to take the place; second was in a neighborhood we'd already fallen in love with, and we were pretty much pre-sold when we saw the size of it. And both times I was pretty much hiding behind Cyn. This one's solo.

So, er, any tips? Please with many thanks?

Crashing soon. (Well, must poke that fic first, 'cause I just saw Iron Man again and have things fresh in my brain.) <3 y'all.

My awesome company is hiring.

Job 1: Operations Assistant. A sort of catch-all title for shipper/receiver/office maintenance/production/jack of all trades. The guy we have in here now (leaving because he got a massage therapist job) does all the shipping and receiving, bits of hazardous waste management, odd-job office handyman, light manufacturing (little glass sensing elements to be packaged), and etcetera. Not the most glamorous thing, I admit, but it's there. We're looking for somebody with high school ed, a year or two of relevant experience, some Office proficiency, and ability to lift fifty pounds. (It's always fifty on this sort of ad. I wonder if there's some sort of OSHA cutoff above that?)

Job 2: Information Systems and Security Specialist. Basically someone who can handle two office's worth of IT, computers and phones, and has particularly knowledge of information security, and DoD security clearance. (We're a government contractor. Whaddya want?) This person will reside in our Cambridge office, but be shared with a sister facility in Billerica, so car is probably desired. Cambridge is an all Windows XP office; dunno about Billerica. We're looking for someone with Bachelor's or equivalent, two to five years of experience, independent and motivated, and a US citizen with the DoD clearance. (Because mumble mumble secret mumble.)

Basic Data. Both of these positions are full time and offer vacation/medical/dental/401k/life/short and long term disability/tuition reimbursement/gym membership discounts/god knows what else. The vacation time is a little tight, but overall it's an awesome package for a office this small. As for the moneys, we tend to pay average market rates, and I'd have to leave it at that.

Corporate Culture, Meh. Yeah, we're a homeland defense government contractor. Yeah, we're part of the military-industrial complex. We're also laid back, quirky, friendly, tolerant, busy without being stressful, and generally awesome. It's honestly one of the most positive office environments I've ever been in, and I've seen quite a few after two years of temping.

And I don't even have to wibble about posting from work! This is essential advertising!

Email me if you're qualified for and interested in either of these positions, and I'll get you a full job description. And pass it on. I figure word of mouth amongst my friends might turn out a few more qualified and fun folks than Craigslist!

...bad.

I need to be better at remembering that I'm not allowed to feel things.

A whole lot of petty frustrations and humiliations at work, stoking up a deep, violent anger. Never wanted to attack strangers at random in the street before. Don't know where that came from. And nothing, absolutely nothing at all I could do with it. Except turn it inwards where it belongs.

(I won't actually. At least I'm about 99% sure I won't actually, just like I'm about 99% sure I won't actually kill myself. The gap between thinking and doing can be very, very wide with me. And that's a good or a bad thing, depending upon context.)

I...know I'm pretty good, by now. I know I'm reasonably attractive, and interesting, and decent company for at least some sorts of people. But I also know I'm not good enough, never will be. And I'm so fucking tired of all this shit.

Monogamy, or even individual people being wired mono, puts people in direct competition. Only the best one gets it. And I'm always second best. Or third, or fifth, or none. Never first.

With polyamory, it's just more insidious. A sort of friendly competition. And the second best still gets it, possibly quite a lot of it. At least for a while. Until the new shiny comes along. Until they let the relationship die a slow and painful death over months with the new shiny and decide you're too much trouble to have around and move onto the improved version. Because even if they're poly, they still don't want you when they find better.

I'm some sort of fucking gateway drug. People find better and dump me. I suppose I should just accept this. Put out a sign--lucky charm: fuck me, you'll find somebody you actually like in a few months. I should know better by now than to want anything for myself. At least my friends will benefit. And I'll have more free time for writing. Not that that's as fun as it used to be either. But I...selfish of me...want love...

I still prefer polyamory. Betters the odds that I at least get something for a little while. (Although it does have the downside of the long painful relationship festering.) Once I'm ready to enter the godawful fucking rat race again, that is. There's a part of me that really, really wants to, in part just to prove that I'm not too broken to. There's a part of me that wants to curl up and die before letting anyone touch me ever again, because I'm afraid that I am.

And there's one guy who does want to--fuck knows why, with how horribly messed up I'm been about stuff (not even relationships, just open friendships, sex, anything) recently--and he's cute and nice and there's a part of me that wants to, and he does not deserve this shit.

Still trying.

Necessity is the bane of my life. When I am doing things only out of necessity, it drains the joy out of everything. And right now, I am living out of necessity.

In the non sequitur department, it just occurred to me that slow and long are tagged as opposites in my mind, and it took me a moment to trace that back to taping Star Trek off the TV when I was small.

My pet Iron Man slash theory.

( Spoilers. )

Also, for the record, I am one of the (seemingly) few who was fairly impressed by Pepper. I mean, good god, compared to what passes for a female lead in, say, Spiderman? Pepper's smart, in control of herself (unlike Mary Jane, who's a codependent wreck who marries the first guy who stands still long enough while moping after the other, and maybe the other, and probably that guy on the street corner because she has no clue what to do with herself), has a bitch of a job and does it well (EXECUTIVE ASSISTANTS UNITE!), is never taken hostage or made a victim (unlike Mary Jane, who seems to lead her natural life screaming in villainous clutches), runs like the devil in spike heels, and generally acts like a clever and collected person who's in way over her head and makes a damn good show despite it. So, yeah, she isn't Not Interested in Tony--but if I understand the comics canon correctly (er, Wikipedia) and they stick to it, he isn't going to be her one and only great love interest. Yeah, she has to be organized and reliable enough for herself and her boss, but, face it, that's just blunt realism--something this movie likes to do when it can. And yeah, she isn't out there fighting, just running around backing up Tony, but. Well. I consider myself a brave person, but when guys are duking it out in nigh-invincible metal armor, I'd stay the fuck back myself. Only sensible. Unless there was a rocket launcher and I knew how to use it. (Even then I'm not sure it would do any good. But at least I'd be doing something besides scurrying about waiting to be told what might be useful.)

So clearly in the next movie Pepper needs to learn how to use rocket launchers.

I guess what this boils down to is--no, Pepper isn't a female hero, so any complaints about her not being a hero are justified. I don't necessarily expect to see that in this movie or sequels; it's a very high-testosterone military sort of superheroing. (This is not to say there shouldn't be, but I don't expect it.) But she's a darn good female sidekick. And sure, yeah, I'd like to see a female hero with a male sidekick too, but how the fuck could they do that and stick to canon? Different movie. And different character.

Pepper != Wonder Woman. But, within the same category of character, Pepper >>> Mary Jane.

Completed draft of the Torchwood/Iron Man crossover posted on the drafts filter.

Off to get dressed, get something to eat (OMFG hungry), and go get baptized.

Splee!

So, in case the rest of your respective f-lists haven't made this suffficiently clear, Iron Man fucking rocked.

And, because of how my brain works, this means it had to be crossed over with Torchwood. (All things get crossed over with either Torchwood or Utena. It is a law of my brain.)

( They are having sex in my head. Though I haven't written the particularly juicy bits yet. )

In other news, I have been doing better these past few days, owe somebody a large apology, and am an enormous fucking dork.

Edit: Sex and ending done. Talky bit before sex still needs a few holes patched. I'm fucking tired and going to sleep. May need to see it again before I feel confident doing a final draft--oh, poor me, that must see it again! Off to go thud.

And that makes a third person who will apparently only communicate with me through an intermediary. And one I don't trust in the least, too.

Temptation to move somewhere to get away from this shit: rising. Will probably become unbearable if Boy winds up doing that. *mutters incoherently into her coffee*

At least I managed to sleep decently last night. Yesterday wasn't too bad; spent a lot of it contemplating how awesome my job is. (Which probably means the universe will take that away too. Bitch.)

Will probably be getting baptized this Sunday. In the meantime, time keeps crawling away. Or I keep crawling through it. One of the two. Either way, whole lot of crawling going on.

I'd like to take a moment to attempt to dispel a rather ugly rumor that may be or have been going about: I never, in any way, deliberately attempted to deprive Cyn of her medication.

I'm not sure how far this rumor spread. As far as I know, it was the brief, angst-induced misconception of a mutual friend; I only heard about it months later, and found it most shocking and alarming. (If you haven't heard of this--no, I'm not going into further detail about who and why and how I know, as that's somebody else's business entirely. I'd just like to get my bit of personal truth out there.)

But, please, believe me--I would never have done that. I was, in fact, encouraging Cyn to take them, and quite worried when she couldn't (or, at times, wouldn't.) Yes, by and large, she was off them because we couldn't afford them (or because she forgot to go to the doctor, or what-have-you); we couldn't afford them because I was a useless flake and couldn't hold down a real job. But this does not translate to deliberate intent.

I'm sorry for the brief injunction of previous-breakup-drama, but it makes me paranoid when there are slanderous untruths floating around about me, especially given how many friends I've lost or been distanced from through this mess. The slanderous truths are bad enough!

We now return to your regularly scheduled current-breakup-drama.

Took a break for mango sorbet and wandering around beautiful, achingly familiar places. (Myst IV, to be precise. Had Serenia on my desktop; wanted to visit.) A little bit of soul-soothing.

I just want to say, though--I was just replying to a few comments--and I don't know if I'll be able to catch up in full, but I do not want you to think that your comments are going unread and unappreciated. They aren't, at least as much as I can appreciate any expression of love or sympathy right now. I want to acknowledge it; I want to accept it; but it's so hard; I don't know if I'll ever be able to shake the fear that if I do, ever, properly, you'll all disappear.

But I just...thank you.

I get stupid when I'm in pain. And a lot of the rest of the time, too--when I'm scared, or stressed, or sleep-deprived. But the worst when I'm in pain. It's what destroyed my relationship with Cyn and Caroline, and to a certain extent Anna, earlier. (Inasmuch as that relationship wasn't already doomed by gross incompatibility.) I wish I could change that about myself, but...there's so much to do, so much to change about myself, and it goes so slowly. Faster than usual, recently, but that had a lot to do with something I've lost.

I need to stop losing things. I need to stop hurting people without meaning it. And I need to--I need to stop pushing them away. But every time I let people close, everyone gets hurt.

"There is no bond that can unite the divided but love. All else is a curse. Accursed be it to the Aeons. Hell."

"...soul of infinite space, before whom time is ashamed, the mind bewildered, and the understanding dark, not unto thee may we attain, unless thine image be love."

It's a rather odd position, given how most mainstream institutionalized and negativized (it's a word if I say so, damn it) religion works, to find oneself being dragged, kicking and whining, by one's religion towards happiness. Or at least it's doing its best.

I feel like I should say that I'm trying, but I'm not. I don't even feel like I'm capable of it. Maybe I've forgotten how. Or maybe I'm simply too tired--utterly exhausted and drained, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, and not knowing how to rest or heal. Stripped of both will and joy. Spending each moment killing time until the next one comes. Every time my heart gets broken, I go out and buy a new one, small and hard and pretty; I meant to toss the little lepidolite one I got when Cyn dumped me into Salem harbor and pick up a new one, but I haven't gotten around to either. I don't carry the old heart. I don't want a new one.

I should start seeing a therapist again, I suppose. I can't rescue myself from this, and I can't in good conscience let anyone else try unless I'm paying them. I'm utter poison when I'm in a bad way, and hurt everyone I touch; most everyone who gets near me winds up hating me, and those who can stand it still tire or lose interest. The other alternative is waiting it out, I suppose.

(Gratuitous Crowley of the day being from Book of the Law and the Gnostic Mass, respectively.)

Also--T.S., H.B., I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

Things I've forgotten to put in previous posts:

How you know you're living in Salem: after some offhand comment about your way of approaching things, you are asked, in about the tone of an official asking for an ID, "I'd like to see your eleventh house, please."

Three months. Three denials of lodging. Three denials of love. It's so perfectly symmetrical that I'd almost like to believe that the universe has finished beating on me. (Or would that be petering out?) Except I don't expect the universe to finish beating on me, like ever, and for full symmetry, wouldn't there be three denials of something else? (Friendship, perhaps, but I can only think of two that outright denied it; more who've pulled a fade. Well, there are a few more days yet 'til the actual official Anniversery of Shit Beginning. Today is just the Anniversery of Universe Kicking Me In Nuts But Good.)

New things:

My sunday night/monday morning insomnia seems to have resurfaced. Blargh.

Appetite returning, slowly. Pulling an invisible oily black tasmanian-devil-esque thing with teeth the size of a few grapefruits out of my gut may have helped.

Blurbed this in email, in response to nevacaruso passing on from a forum discussion the pairing proposal of Ruka/Mikage/Miki.

( Blurb! )

It's not that I'm jealous, per se, that Boy and New Girl are doing Mass together before she leaves. (They're hustling her through the confirmation process just for that. I overheard all this during post-mass schmooz. Is that how one spells schmooz?) I don't want him to not do it with her. I just...wish he could share.

JUST SHOOT ME, DAMN IT.

There is no part of me that is not the gods' football.

Needless to say, will not be going to that mass. Will probably be curled in a little ball under my bed crying.

This photo series is made of concentrated awesome. (NWS for naked boobies.)

Had to visit him tonight to get my stuff back. (Stored a few of my more precious things there--magical implements, that sort of thing.)

The visit per se wasn't bad. We hung out. I was even able to look at him from time to time. Maybe even met his eyes once or twice. (It's hard to; it hurts; it's scary.) Petted the cats a lot. Talked. A bit awkward, but...not agony, and he didn't do anything painful (except, y'know, be his wonderful self that I can't be with anymore), so better than I expected.

Realized how lonely I am, physically. I miss cuddles. I miss sex. But I don't know if I can. Not this soon, not after all this. Specifically, I don't know if I can trust anybody, even to the level I used to trust near-strangers, and I don't know if I can be physically close to somebody without trusting them. (Discounting comfort hugs, if the other person is the one being comforted. That doesn't count; that's a different part. But seeking pleasure? Admitting desire? That makes me vulnerable.)

He mentioned that his back had spasmed. I almost offered to help, almost asked, as I had several times before, is there anything untrained hands can do to help? But stopped. Because if there was, if I did ease something, then I'd feel him relax under my hands, hear the sigh of relief, see his eyes flutter shut--and I'd have to let go and back away, because I wouldn't be able to kiss him.

He told me that I could call him anytime. I tried to explain why I couldn't. Why I couldn't possibly ask anything of him right now, aside from the getting my stuff back. Told him to call me if he wanted to. I honestly don't know if he ever will. (And if it were anybody besides him, I would never expect him to. Fuck, I still trust him. Fuck.)

It was the leaving that hurt. Pulling out of that familiar driveway in Saugus in the cool night. So many times that I'd left so--well, not happy to be leaving, of course, but happy to be with somebody I love. And instead...started bawling when I was halfway through backing out. Screaming why, why, WHY?

I hate crying when I drive.

And I'm sorry to be dumping this all here. I really have been trying to make an effort, for decorum's sake amongst other reasons, to not have this journal be an angst-fest anymore. But...it's the only way I can think of to work through it that feels safe.

Every time so far that I've dated somebody who didn't have a strong, functional primary relationship at the time, they wound up, in whatever way, leaving me for somebody else they were also dating.

Hunh. What am I, a gateway drug?

Mostly, at this particular moment, what I make of this is that I should never expect anything to last. Not even last forever, but last more than a few months, maybe a year, until they find somebody better. Every moment I'm with somebody, I need to be prepared for them to disappear. When they find a new partner, no matter how it seems, I have to let go of any hope or expection of anything.

And I'm not going to start dating mono--I'm not wired like that, I'm just not. I don't want to place restrictions on the actions of others, or be with people who restrict themselves; I'd rather go through the pain of division.

It's what I get for always being second best, I suppose.

For I am divided for love's sake, for the chance of union.

This is the creation of the world, that the pain of division is as nothing, and the joy of dissolution all.*

But can I do this? Can I keep putting myself through the pain of division, over and over--because it's not nothing, damn it, this is the worst thing to happen during all this shit--knowing it's going to happen? Will knowing it's going to happen, expecting it, make it easier--will I actually be able to hold back enough to survive that, over and over?

I don't know.

Reformulating self, day by day.

Spent half of day feeling sick to my stomach. Is Beltane. We'd planned, months ago, to celebrate it together. Instead I'm moving again, alone, and he's spending the night with New Girl.

Meh.

[* Book of the Law, I.30-31]

I'm repurposing the Five Leaves in Autumn filter as a general drafts filter. (No, this doesn't mean I'm officially abandoning Five Leaves. I just don't know. I know very little right now, only that I want a drafts filter. And a pony.)

What is the drafts filter? Well, just that--a filter for raw drafts of fanfiction. Possibly very raw drafts.

Disclaimers: if you read fic only casually, or prefer polished work, please do not sign up for this. If you don't want to see bits and drabs and WIPs that may never ever actually be finished, however frustratingly so, don't sign up for this. If you don't want to run the risk of being hit up for commentary on something, don't sign up for this. Etcetera.

Requisite poll:

Poll #1180493 Drafts filter!
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

Want in?

Want?

(For those concerned: my current emotional state: I don't even fucking know. Mostly trying desperately to move on. Going back and forth on the whole magic thing. Not going back and forth on the whole sex thing. Gazebo.)

(For those wondering: yes, I'm asking 'cause I'll probably make a post on said filter, like, tonight or tomorrow or something.)

So the universe, by now, has made it very clear that I don't get to love or trust anybody or anything. It certainly took it long enough. I think it reached sledgehammer-between-the-eyes before I got it--because I'd been having delusions of grandeur for so long, having friends, having relationships, daring to love people--but yeah, I finally got it.

Love and trust--faith and openness and all those related things--are necessary for two of the three most important things in my life. Well, possibly three, but I can manage to write without them. But I can't do sex or magick without them. It's just not possible for me.

So there it is. No more sex. No more magick.

I went through many years of thinking that my sole purpose in life was to write. I guess, in the end, it is. And I don't get to be joyous, or enlightened, or safe, or cared for while I do it.

I want to know whose previous life's shit I'm working through with this so I can build a time machine and fucking kill them. Fucker. Except that wouldn't actually fix anything, now would it?

Everything you depend on will break.

Everything you need will disappear.

Everything you want will fade.

Everything you love will flee.

Trust nothing.

Love nobody.

( Context. )

Everything I depend on breaks.

Everything I need disappears.

Everything I want fades.

Everything I love flees.

I will trust nothing.

I will love nobody.

Even if it is the fucking law.

Went to sleep last night at about 7:30, shortly before sunset. Thought it would be a nap; was just too tired and blargh to do anything else.

Woke up around dawn, around 5:30.

Puttered about; went to iHop to food; decided to wander off at random. Wound up, as I usually do when wandering off 'at random,' at Crane's Beach in Ipswich. (I <3 having a car so I can do things like this.)

Now it's still very early in the morning. It's a Sunday in the off-season, cold and gray. There were maybe two people on the entire freakin' beach, and nobody within eyeshot.

I went out, after confirming that the tide seemed to be outgoing and not incoming, to the very tippity tip of a long spit of sand, right out with the ocean on three sides of me, and kicked off my shoes, and did my LBRP for the first time in two weeks.

Damn, that felt good.

Going off regular ritual practice, when one has gotten in the habit, is like going off psychiatric medication. I saw the effects in Cyn, horribly, over the various times when she stopped doing her rituals; I've been seeing the effects in myself over the past few weeks.

This Thursday, at least, I'll be moving in somewhere where magical practice won't be a matter of contention. Then I can resume regular work. Phew.

In the meantime, much better. Rebooted. Clean restart. Energy higher, concentration higher, relationship paranoia much lower. Huzzah!

Spent the past week basically killing time until he had time for me.

Miss him, very much. Been calling him enough to feel stalkerish.

There are pretty much exactly two things I want to do right now, and neither of them are possible. Yeah, when I get emo, I get picky. I want to do exactly X, damnit, whine, bitch, moan. If I'm going to do something that isn't X, I might as well hide at my computer/with my books and attempt to be productive. (Apartment hunt. Finish my Minerval app. Update my website. Work on Teh Novel. Read magic. All those things I kinda want to do, and kinda feel I should do, but I really just want X.) And it's all completely, horribly unfair to anyone who isn't X, because anybody who isn't X calling me up and saying 'oh hi, wanna hang out tonight, you sound lonely' would get brushed aside just because they weren't X. And that's not right, but it's how my brain is working right now. All I want to do is sulk and pout until I get X, which I know isn't going to happen, which leaves me just sulking and pouting. And generally things I can't fix get ignored, and I'm trying to ignore this, but it hurts.

Meh.

I hate making emo posts, and I've gotten a lot of shit for making emo posts (though admittedly mostly from Cyn, but the guilt is still there--yes, for those who may have wondered, she did in fact berate me considerably for posting any personal or emotional content to LJ that made her look bad, and this was a fair portion of the reason I set a no emo posts rule for myself a while back.)

But sometimes I feel like I have to express whatever it may be, somehow, to somebody, as a part of dealing with it--and, yeah, for some reason, the making of a LiveJournal post that I honestly hope nobody pays any attention to still registers to me as expressing something to somebody. Because, much as I try, I can't keep any inappropriate or annoying emotions, or reactions, or pain bottled up forever.

(When I say inappropriate, this is by my own judgement, not anyone else's. I don't want to be feeling like this; it's inconvenient, it annoys me profoundly, it's horribly unfair to the rest of my friends and the boy. He is at liberty to do as he wills, and an emo girlfriend guilt-tripping him about foo is not something he needs to deal with.)

(And, yeah, I admit there's also a fair bit of paranoia. Feeling and expressing pain and dysfunctionality is what broke up my last two relationships. Not doing it again. Not doing it again. Not doing it again.)

(And that really is the prime emotion I'm feeling right now. I'm annoying myself. Thus I'm going to assume that this annoys other people. So ignore it already. Certainly don't do anything as a result of it; I do not want to inconvenience people more than I already do.)

(Annoyance is minor. Annoyance can be dealt with. NO RLY.)

Stupid brain. What I want I can't have, and I don't want anything else, and this makes me come off as whiny and/or bitchy.

Whine. Bitch. Epic meh.

(X = time with Eric or a big rollicking bipolypagangeek party.)

<333

(Mah internet time, it is tiny!)

Because tonight I spam you with novel poop.



Poll #1175085 This:
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

Creepy?