enamoured: Captain America: ...and I will write you a tragedy. (show me a hero)
It breaks my heart that one of my one-time BFFs is a xenophobic low key racist conservative, even moreso that on top of all that, she’s also Hispanic.
enamoured: the starry-eyed emoticon: *_* (got stars in my eyes)
Hi, everyone! It's been a while over here, and there's been a lot of stuff that's happened. I'll try to detail that after this weekend (and Monday) is over.

But in the meantime:

holiday love meme 2015
enamoured: I approve this message. (i approve this message)
You have not lived until you have had a drunk "professional turntablist" jump into your conversation at brunch. Well, you probably have lived, but, you know. Things happen.
enamoured: the name of a favorite Facebook group: Disney Gave Me Unrealistic Expectations About Love. (disney gave me unrealistic expectations)
Way too freaking long time, way too freaking no post.

I'm working on a piece, trying to get back into the mindset of being a thirteen year old girl, and I'm looking at my own journals from that stage of my life and it's been rough. It's funny--I feel like I can remember being that age well, but having the words before me feels like sensory overload. I found an entry when I talk about a teacher having to take me into the hall because I started crying in class over some drama with either my best friend or this awful boy that I liked. That boy shows up a lot in this one notebook. Like, I wrote a song about him (I wanted to be a pop star at the time, so I wrote lots of lyrics), and one of the lines from it was "your halfway love is cutting my soul like a knife", and what in the world was that about?

Anyway, I just found this one part where I talk about how said boy would pretend to flirt with me and say, "Oh, you like that!" when I would be like, "Ugh, stop." And I wrote:
Oh God, I do like it and I just want to have him wrapped around my finger and just kiss him and mess around in his hair and pull him closer and just have the pleasure of knowing that I want him and need him to possibly go on and have the pure satisfaction of knowing that we’re together.

When I read that, I hear it in my head as a long, kind of breathless gush, and I love that it's written like that. There was something going on in my thirteen year old head that understood the urgency that that sentence had, and knew that I didn't have to put a comma in there even though it's kind of a run-on. I felt that my writing had to be conversational and in that conversational way, splicing the sentence wasn't necessary.

I still like writing dialogue like that. I love heightened emotion and trying to get that frenetic, crazy feeling down in a way that makes sense and can make a reader really get what you’re going for.

But Lord, thirteen year olds are a mess. Bless their crazy little hearts.
enamoured: "I am a skank. Oh my God. At least before I was just a loser." (i was a loser before i met him)
Sometimes I wish that I were outwardly self-destructive instead of prone to anxiety. At least then I would have a more acceptable excuse for being a mess.
enamoured: a kitty with a frog hat on. (i has frog on hed)
Long time, no write.

A FEW THINGS THAT ARE GOING ON WITH ME RIGHT NOW:

1. I'm going to be an aunt in about a month, which is putting me in this weird tailspin. I have this... weird relationship with my brother, in that I love him and care about him but dislike bits of his personality and the way that he treats both me and my mom. There's been all these studies that say that men tend to broaden their views when they have daughters (I'm going to have a niece, zomg what), and I hope that it might help.

Also, my mom is being varying degrees of terrible when it comes to my brother's girlfriend. She says that she "trapped" my brother, and says all these disparaging things about her, and while I'm still kind of getting to know Jasmine, it drives me up the wall that my mom is so judgmental about her. But my mom's been judgmental of every single girlfriend my brother's had, and this feels like Sitcom Mom reaction. Essentially, the way she's behaving is making me just not want to ever introduce any guy I meet to her, because Lord knows what she'd then spew to my grandma or any other people she'd talk to.

2. I'm going to be doing Mortified in a month! I submitted some old journal entries sometime in October or so, and near the end of December I got an email from the show's producer about the screening process. On the third of this month, I went to Austin with my friend Theresa for the screening, and I got in. I'll be doing the Valentine's shows--two shows on the nights of February 13 and 14. I'm excited and nervous and can't wait. All the information about the shows will be there at the website.

3. I hit myself in the face while playing with Pepper about a week ago. I did it so hard that I bruised my mouth and, according to my dentist, knocked one of my top teeth upward some tiny unit of measure that is totally unnoticeable to me. What was noticeable was the pain from inflamed nerves. I'm pretty sure that the tooth's going to be fine now--the pain is down by a WHOLE LOT from last week--but I'm still on watch for any changes in appearance or what have, just in case.

Long story short: don't run with empty aluminum foil tubes in your mouths, kids.

4. I got a book I really liked (Allison Pearson's I Think I Love You) in hardcover for $1! Thanks, Dollar Tree!

5. I got a foam mattress cover, and I am now sleeping much, much better. My mattress is old as balls, and I'd been waking up with sore sides for the past few months. But then earlier this week I got a foam liner, and oh my God. I'll get a new mattress eventually, but in the meantime, I will rotate this stupid, comfy piece of foam for as long as I can because it has done wonders for my life.

So, yeah! This year, I'm going to try to get back to longform. Or, at least, updating DW/LJ more than once a month.
enamoured: a kitty with a frog hat on. (i has frog on hed)
Sometimes I feel like I forget how to write.

I spent two years writing in a journal every day. I used to update LJ at least five times a week. I used to be able to crank out a 2000 word one shot fan fic in an evening, giving myself a full twenty-four hours to proof it and second-guess myself before posting it.

And now, sometimes, words fail me. I don't know how to describe something that I've gone over in my head ten times during the course of my day, when all I want to do is sit down and commit it to paper or Word or a post.

Part of it is because of how the nature of online talk/writing's changed. We're more image/quick text driven. Something has to be quick and snappy or long and rage-filled for it to really hit if it's written, and I hate that. I hate wanting to really get down to something emotional in my own life, only for it to be drowned out.

I've taken leave from Tumblr and Twitter for most of the past week because of current events. I've wanted to write something about that to explain why, even though I'm ultimately not that important in the scheme of the internet or fandom or whatever for people to miss me enough or to notice. Like, who cares? I have gone days just reblogging dog photos on Tumblr and retweeting blithe things and never talking about anything substantial.

People who know me only from Twitter or Tumblr and through my Captain America or Corgi squee don't know about my anxiety diagnosis, at least in part because I don't talk about it because I don't want to burden anyone. They don't know that I spend inordinate amounts of time in my head and trying to figure out if I'm failing at being a woman, at being black American, at being an adult. They don't know me as well as people who've known me since I've been supersyncspaz7 or whatever pre @chaoticgirlie or viewparadise username you've come to know me under.

The thing of it is this: more and more, I feel like Tumblr is this field of mines I have to navigate through. I struggle constantly with this idea of being a socially responsible person, of going back and forth of whether or not I am obligated to subject myself to viewing of every single atrocity that comes across my dash and trying to muster the energy to block it because it makes me feel off-kilter and crazy and like maybe, maybe I should stop trying because the odds are so deeply stacked against me and the whole world is against me and all of us.

And that's not what I'm there for, you know? I am there for immersing myself in the things that make me feel like life is worth it. Superhero stuff. 90s nostalgia. Good news about the world. Ten thousand freaking dog blogs. Everyone is free to use media in the way they want, and I am not going to condone anyone for doing what they damn want, but sometimes you have to get to the point in which you have to decide what is best for you, and this break for me has brought me to that.

Thing About Me Worth Knowing: I am a sentimental idiot. This is at least part of the reason why I haven't changed my LJ handle in all the years I've been on the site. (The only reason [personal profile] enamoured is my DW name is because it wasn't taken, and as much as I love my LJ name, I wanted something different.) I can't quite bring myself to delete my Tumblr, as there's thousands of posts and six years attached to that name--and, okay, I'm greedy too, and want to keep that screen name.

But I've got to change something about my relationship with the site. I'm going to have to either block or stop following some people who I care about and really like so that I won't feel hopeless or angry or just inadequate following them. I'm trying to compartmentalize and sort and figure out how to best deal with this, because I've felt more relieved in the days during this hiatus than I have in, well, a while. I've still had the work and real life problems getting on me, but I haven't felt the need to go to my dashboard seeking some relief only to find the latest in Oh God, Everything is Awful.

I don't know. I'm trying--always trying--to be a better person and to do what is best for me. I don't know how to always get both of those things working at the same time.
enamoured: the starry-eyed emoticon: *_* (got stars in my eyes)
I have something (that I think is) neat that I will talk about soon!
enamoured: The Little Mermaid. "But who cares? No big deal. I want... more." (part of your world)
So, sometime about thirteen years ago today I created an LJ account with a name that was so nonsensical that I couldn't fathom actually using it more than once. While there's other online aliases that I have, [livejournal.com profile] supersyncspaz7 has been the longest-running one. "super" was because it was my favorite adjective at the time (I think I even made a message board account called "Super Pickle"--what board, I don't even remember), "sync" because *NSYNC was on my mind most of that summer, "spaz" (I had no idea that in other places this is considered an offensive word) because somehow, that became a nickname a friend gave me, and "7" just to round it out and because it's my favorite number.

Anyway.

Things have not been pleasant for me lately. I mean, it's been okay, but let me try to consolidate the crap in one go:

The Store got remodeled, and our not-so new store director has been cutting hours left and right, resulting in footwear being trashed to hell and back for about two months straight. We lost four people to quitting and firing back in April, and we've had about five people quit since then; the department roster is down to about thirteen and may be ten by the end of next week, which is so not enough people to maintain the department at all.

Basically, my job sucks, I can't get another one, and I want to fling myself into oncoming traffic. )
enamoured: I approve this message. (i approve this message)
Two weeks until Guardians of the Galaxy, one (one?!) 'til Comic-Con. I got the preview issue of Entertainment Weekly and OH GOD WHY IS IT NOT MAY 2015 YET. There are, thus far, only two movies I want to see at the theater right now without having to wait, and they are Age of Ultron and the Peanuts movie.

I mean, there's probably more, but I can't think of them right now.

This week, I've been on vacation. I haven't done everything that I wanted to do (go to an area museum every day, for example), but I did get to go to the writer's workshop and I also did finally make it to the Sixth Floor Museum on Monday.

I've lived in the area for years and hadn't gone over there before, and it was definitely an experience. FYI, if you ever go: on Mondays, the museum opens at noon, and if you go across the street, you can purchase tickets at the museum store and cafe; otherwise, you have to wait in line for about fifteen plus minutes to go in. You can't take pictures on the sixth floor itself, but you can on the seventh, where there are extra exhibits and such.

Outside, if you walk and face Dealy Plaza, there are marks on the street where President Kennedy was shot, and that is just very, weirdly visceral to me. Seeing that, and the spot in the museum where Oswald was when he fired (that window's blocked off with a glass enclosure, and it's been recreated to look like it would have all those years ago) was kind of chilling.

And then there were the conspiracy/tour guide people outside, one of whom was a young woman wearing a pink suit that was reminiscent of the one Jackie Kennedy wore that day, which ranked very high on the That is Kinda Wrong scale for me.

I ended up going to the library on Tuesday. On Wednesday, I got to go back to the Writer's Workshop. Yesterday, I had planned on going to this museum up near the airport, or to the wax museum, but I drove past and just... couldn't get it in me to actually go in. (Maybe I'll do that tomorrow.)

And yesterday, I lost my keys walking Pepper. At some point, I dropped them or they fell out of my Spibelt, and I was freaking out hardcore, because that would've made it THREE TIMES that I've lost keys while walking/running in the past two and a half years. I seriously do not understand how, throughout my entire childhood and adolescence, I never lost my keys but this happens. As I started retracing my steps, I ran into a couple on the trail, and I asked if they'd seen keys. About ten minutes later, my mom drove down and we started patrolling the area, and this other woman showed up. She said that some kids had found them and asked her if the keys were hers, and she was just starting down the trail as the couple who had helped me at first were.

So yeah, super-grateful to those kids and to the lady on the trail who ran into them.

Finally: I went to the doctor last week because I had this strange rash appear on my chest, leg, and lower back. Apparently, it is pityriasis rosea, and it's supposed to go away in about six weeks or so. I need it to kind of go now, because random spots of it are itching like crazy and I am thisclose to scratching/rubbing myself to death. I do not understand how it's 2014 and doctors still don't know exactly where this thing comes from. How does that happen?!

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