So, here’s how I’m doing it (if I manage to finish*)
I’ll be posting them as they happen on my twitter, and tomorrow (the second) I’ll be posting cleaned up, hopefully colored versions both here and on the hourly comic day messageboard.
*If I don’t finish. I’ll be posting whatever I’ve got here. Probably.
today I got a bus pass.
Now I have yet another piece of plastic with a bad picture of me on it.
It’s like being in high school, but this time your ID has sweet holograms on it!
*do they put holograms on high school IDs these days?
This laptop refuses to let me do page breaks.
I suck at trigger warnings, and I don’t tag things.
If you think you might get triggered by something I post, please unfollow me. I swear I won’t be offended. In fact, I would prefer it.
Love,
anesthesia
SO my ex- boss’s mom died of cancer this week.
I think she may have been relatively recently diagnosed because of the obituary (they called it a short illness), but I’m not sure.
It was breast cancer. this is number 4 or 5 out of people I know that have/ have had breast cancer.
This is fucked up.
And it’s really been bumming me out. Death always bums me out, but cancer deaths bum me out especially.
I don’t know what said ex-boss is going through, since my cancer deaths have not been my mom.
but I know the feeling of losing someone to cancer. it feels like you’ve been jilted.
One person I lost to cancer was my little brother. brain cancer.
Do you want to know a secret, tumblr?
I’m a little drunk and it’s been eating away at me for over a decade.
a little while before my baby brother was diagnosed with brain cancer, maybe a couple months, maybe longer, maybe shorter, I don’t remember because it was so long ago, I dropped him on his head.
My mom kept setting off the fire alarm and I decided to take him outside just in case.
And I dropped him on his head because he was squirming.
I’ve never seen the MRIs. I don’t know where the tumor was. I’m pretty sure that it was not in the area that hit the door mat. I still feel guilty. More importantly, I feel that we all lost someone who could have changed the world. someone who would have changed me, at the very least. And whether it’s my fault or not, I feel robbed of an experience that could have made my life a bit less tragic. FUCK CANCER.
Knowing that my ex boss and his family are going through this breaks my heart. it’s their mom as opposed to their little brother. That’s a million times worse. I can’t even imagine my mom dying (I have repeatedly told her she’s not allowed to die… so far, so good). FUCK CANCER.
I didn’t go the the wake. I’m not going to go to the funeral.
On one hand, I feel like shit for this. On the other hand, I know that at one point I mentioned my obsession with funerals to my ex boss (I have a specific sweater for them). I don’t know if he remembers me talking about how much I love funerals, but I sincerely hope he does and understands my absence is an act of respect.
If he doesn’t, that’s ok too. I totally forgot to find a ride. I did actually intend to make it to the mass.
In conclusion, FUCK CANCER.
The YAY! Scale! (click the link to buy one!)
This is the only scale I will ever advocate to anyone. When you step on it, it’s nearly guaranteed to give you a boost. Instead of a number, it gives you a compliment!
“Fine!”
“Perfect!”
“Lovely!”
“Ravishing!”
You’ll never have to fear stepping on the scale again if you have one of these. It’s just a reminder that the number on the scale isn’t what’s important. Your self-worth and the ways in which you define yourself are really what matter!
(Did I mention each scale is signed by Marilyn Wann of Fat!So? fame? Super bonus!)
I love the adorable designs and I love the tongue in cheek jab at the beauty industry. Honestly, if I knew someone who was dieting, I would heavily consider getting them one of these bad boys to remind them that the end all be all isn’t the number on the scale!
Omg I want one *___*
Reblogging for awesomeness. I think these should probably replace normal scales.
So I was going to start out with a photoset of all of the pictures I’ve posted of myself this year, but then I decided that it would be way too time consuming.
I also have decided to buck the “in (year), I…” format, because i just don’t feel like doing that. Anyways, 2011.
2011 marks the first year that I’ve actually faced my problems head on, and focused on getting better. I’d like to think that there comes a time in every person’s life where, out of fear or determination or whatever, they get their head screwed on straight.
This makes for a pretty boring year, but I’m on with that. Sometimes you gotta have boring before you can have superexcitingfuntime.
This year, I did not move, or change the color of my hair (it’s been pink for about a year and a day), or have tons of crazy adventures (although I did go to wisconsin once and that was amazing), or make a bunch of crazy new friends (although I’ve gotten a bit closer to the few friends I have down here), or have an existential crisis (although the whole getting better thing has been painful), Or anything that has typically defined my life up to this point.
From the outside, it seems like a bum year. To me, however, it’s been a year of preparation. I am in a very different place than I was last december mentally, and it’s a place of being all revved up and ready to go.
I’m pretty excited for 2012. I expect amazing things. Whether the world ends or not in december, I’m gonna make it fucking count.
Yay for shaming femininity as shallow and unappealing. Gold star!
Seriously though, I don’t give a damn what style of clothes my lover wears or how long they spend on their hair. Whatever makes them happy.Though I believe I might award someone points for wearing sweatpants and jeans at the same time, particularly if the sweatpants are in their hair.
Do you know, my brain autocorrected that to sweatshirts. I would definitely give someone all of the awards for finding a creative way to wear both.
Everyone’s presentation is valid. :/ Not caring about your appearance does not make you deep.
99% of CITATION NEEDED CITATION NEEDED also shut the fuck up snowflake. I doubt even the girliest of femmes “think about make-up all day”. IME they think about FUCKING.
I know people who work with make-up and don’t think about make-up all day. How COULD you? How much is there to think about? I mean, I’m sure quite a bit, but not all day.
… I don’t know why I find this notion so upsetting.
I live in a college town. 99% (well, maybe 97%, but that’s nitpicking) of the ladies I see on a daily basis wear chucks and jeans, or sweatpants, or even the dreaded “messy bun” (god i hate those things). There are some girls I see in passing whom I’ve only seen in sweatpants. Pretty damn ordinary.
Just saying.
(Source: staypozitive)
Or, The Shit I’ve Been reading Recently
I’ve mostly been reading comix lately, because that’s what’s been showing up around my house. But I’ve been reading real books too, I swear!
AND NOW IT”S TIME AGAIN FOR AN EPISODE OF
Watch Me Procrastinate Over Coffee!
Also check out my festive gift mug!
Ramshackle Glory- From Here Till Utopia (song for the desperate)
“I don’t want to hate me, and I don’t want to have to hate everything anymore.”
Ok I’ll stop but seriously Pat The Bunny is on my bearhug list.
