I don’t know

So. Yeah.

I put in an application for an apartment today. Its nice. I think that so long as the rental history stuff comes up clean, I should be good to go. *crosses fingers*

Now, I just need to disentangle the Girlie’s and my stuff from the Boys’ and pack it. :/ So not looking forward to that.

~~~~~~~~~~Must remember to find~~~~~

King size bed frame
Twin bed frame
Coffee table
Short bar stools
Coffee/end table

~~~~~~~~~Must remember to do~~~~~

call the electric co.
call the cable co.
forward mail

I know I’m forgetting things but my brain is le tired.
So I will take a nap.


One of the people (shadesong) whose journal I read put together a mini auto-biography of themselves. I am stealing it as a way of forcing myself to write and as a way to be more open. Without (much) further ado, ….Voila!

I’m Mare. No, you cannot have my real name here in cyber-space. I tend to prefer “Mare”, anyway. I am fun, moody, flirty, and quirky. I am human, after all. I am a Mommy. I am a software quality assurance engineer. I am a writer(*). I color, bead (somewhat erratically), cook (very well), read (ALOT), and game (also ALOT). In my most perfect world, I would work as a writer for gaming publishers and magazines.

I am tall – 5’8″ (when I stretch). I used to be quite a bit larger than I am now. I also had a slew of health issues to go along with being so big. In August of 2004 I had gatric bypass surgery (roux en Y). Since that time, I am down 130 #s. I am not sure that I would do the surgery again, given the choice. Not that I am not grateful for the weight loss and subsequent health betterment — just that I would have given more time to the emotional issues that surrounded my weight gain in the first place. Being effectively forced to deal with those issues in a relatively short time has left a few scars. If you cannot “eat” your negative feelings anymore, you have to either actually process those emotions — or you try to find a new way to hide. I suppose it can be likened to a flooding technique. Effective, but ouch. I am trying to actually deal with them so that I am as mentally/emotionally healthy as I can be.

I am a survivor of multiple types of abuse. Due to that, I am reclaiming my psyche bit by bit. It’s hard. It hurts. I wish to use my journal to write of my experiences but the *fear* is still there. That is one of the nastiest parts of being abused…the constant fear of reprisals; even when you intelligently know better. Your head tells you that you are safe…your anxious heart has other ideas, however.

I live more or less in Austin, Texas. More or less because I actually reside in a house in one of the outskirt towns – Leander. Its a rural community that is being slowly Walmarted into submission. I like it well enough except for the commute. My personal preference is to move Northwest sometime in the next couple of years. Seattle, Portland, Vancouver, somewhere! Somewhere far away from Texas. There are chains that bind and chains that hold. Here there are both. The nomad in me wants the discoveries of a new place. The CW (**)in me thinks moving away from my support structure is bad and why are we even contemplating this?!. One of the analysts that occupies one of the corners of my brain thinks that breaking the old patterns would be extremely helpful in healing. Of course, another of them thinks that I need to stay and learn to deal (“Suck it UP, girl!”). Mostly, I just feel that I am done with Texas. I would like to expose myself and my family to a new community type.

I think that’s all I am able to say for now. This excercise was more difficult than I thought it would be.

*-I am a writer.
A part of me wishes to quantify this statement. Yes, I am a writer. I think that I am a pretty good fiction writer. For a variety of reasons, I have problems letting people – who I don’t know and or am not comfortable with – read my stuff. Writing in an online journal is something of an act of bravery for me. For awhile, when I was more anonymous, I was brave and wrote here without fear. Then something happened and I lost the ability. I am trying to regain it. This is my space, my place. I feel that I should be able to write what I want without reprisals. How I feel and what I am able to do are at cross purposes right now. This bio is a step for me to reclaim. I do not want this to be a no-content space. I want this to be a jagged place, a funny space, a harsh read. This should be an honest-to-goodness journal.

Heal, heart.
Heal so that I can write clean again.

Cowardly Lion

not sure why this amused me so….

After sending plasma grape You-Tube thingie to friend at work,…

Dude I Work With: Is there anything that YouTube can’t do?
Moi: lol — I am not sure that I want to find out.
Dude I Work With: True dat
Dude I Work With: Some things are meant only for the Great Old Ones
Dude I Work With: And for the Thing That Should Not Be
Moi: I’m pretty sure that YouTube came into being the moment someone chanted the full “Ia Rlyeh, Hastur, Hastur…” etc. chant.
Dude I Work With: IA! IA! Shubniggurath! GUG!
Dude I Work With: That’s right—I think The Mighty One himself is the CEO of YouTube
Moi: I expect to hear the large splatting sound of Elder God arrival any moment now.
Moi: Most likely.
Dude I Work With: Father Dagon is prolly the Head of Marketing
Moi: I agree. As evidence, you can take all the adverts that pop up as you scan for vids.
Moi: I am searching for “Explosions” and I get Calgon Bath Salts as a sponsor? WTF?
Dude I Work With: By the way… my house is on fire…
Moi: Um?
Dude I Work With: damn grapes…
Moi: *snort*
Dude I Work With:
Dude I Work With:
Dude I Work With:
Moi: You mean “cackle”
Dude I Work With: By the way—eggs blow up neatly in a micro too
Moi: That I knew through my own experiementation in cooking.
Moi: Especially, it appears, if you place a slice of ham under them.
Dude I Work With: hamplosions?
Moi: with a greasy smacking sound — don’t leave a slice of ham & egg, ensconced in a coffee mug, in the micro for more than 2 minutes. Just saying.
Dude I Work With: LOL!!! I hardly ever combine ham, eggs, and coffee cups together in any kind of combo
Dude I Work With: Motor oil and tea on the other hand….
Moi: *snort* It was a fast way to make an egg mcmuffin sort of thing. cradles the egg into the right shape/size for muffiny goodness. however, i let it cook too long. I was cleaning ham slivers and exploded yolk out of the inside of the micro for like, an hour.

Today’s Drive was brought to you by the letter “S” and the number “1”

Driving to work today reminded me of an important fact:

Texas Hill Country smells like an undead troll’s gym socks when it rains. Its this unholy combination of sour earth, petro-chemicals, sulphur and something definitely organic rotting. Its horrific. And there was *no* escaping it. Usually, I like the smell of the rain. But, not while driving through (insert announcer type voice here) Beeee-youuuuuuuuu-ti-ful Texas Hill Country! With acres of (sotto voice) fucking!!! (non-sotto voice) cedar trees for your viewing pleasure.
…thought: Hmm…I wonder if that awful stench is the smell of cedar trees plotting pollen-y slash allergic-y death for humans?
…but I digress (again).

I couldn’t roll the windows down to escape, and as it had already insinuated itself into my car I was pretty much stuck. Add to this the fact that most drivers here have the annoying inability to drive in any rain oh, at all and that means that I spent an extra 20 minutes tootling along with the Stench of Forty Thousand Years. { /vincentpricevoice }

Gosh darn you, stenchy drive! Gosh darn you to heck!

Dear Cedar, F thee. Love, the Mgmt.

I sit in my supposedly-environmentally controlled computer lab – eyes streaming, nose & sinuses burning – and I wonder just WTF the Universe had in mind when it decided mucous was a fan-tastic idea. I am a step away from jabbing a turpentine-covered baby-bottle brush up my nose just to scratch my brain*. ’cause its itching, too.

Just so that we are all freaking aware of it — Austin sucks major allergen ass. There is something allergic happening every damn day. Mold, cedar, weed, grass, trees (other than cedar) and for all I know, alien fungal spores.

EVERYthing has a longer growth life here. Including Republicans.

It feels like there are a billion ants, wearing fuzzy slippers & dusty feather boas doing the cha-cha in my sinus cavities.

I am alive.
I am a lung-mucous factory, however. If I don’t soon get better I *will* start making sacrifices of Chocolate-Covered Paydays & Dr. Pepper (*) to Ryleh, Cthullu et al, in an appeasal attempt.

Two of the vilest food stuffs known to man. Only Elder Gods of Dooooooooooom (+1…against monkies) would appreciate them.