noblescientist: (Boo the Pom)
You guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys

Problems keep happening with my application to PetCooooooooo D:

First, it was a problem with the age of my first application. Re-submitted, problem solved.

Then it was an e-mail that I didn't get. It was re-sent, problem solved.

Then the e-mail I sent back didn't get to the right place. Gave the store a physical copy. Problem solved (I think).

Now, I was just asked to edit some stuff on the application, and when I logged on to do so, it told me I withdrew it (which I didn't) and it's no longer under consideration (which it should be) and I can't edit it D:

This is really bumming me out, guys. I was supposed to start working a week ago. And I'm getting really depressed. (I'm on a new anti-depressant, this is not helping. I can't tell if it's not working or if this is just fucking me up.)

I wanna start grooming puppies T_T

EDIT: Well, I've just found out that I'm not gonna get any answers for six fucking days. I was supposed to start a week ago, and I was really excited for this, but now I can't start for at least another week? This fucking sucks. So much for a great opportunity dropping itself into my lap. I'm starting to wonder if I'm ever going to get a job.
noblescientist: (FFVII)
This is just a fucking cacophony of badness.

Bronchitis has been kicking my ass for a week and a half. My headaches are getting out of control. And my lungs hurt.

One of my friends has just stopped trying.
Another has decided that "now that [I'm] Jim" I'm different. Fuck you, I never was who you thought I was, and apparently you weren't either.
Another friend is moving closer to our other friends, and I might not be able to see her or make it to the RP without her.
I have no other local friends.

The Effexor isn't working. The prednisone made it worse. It's still not getting better.

I haven't been able to get in touch with a counsellor.

I can't do this.
noblescientist: (KEEP CALM)
I'm pretty sure that yesterday I got Valentine-rejected for life (even though we've already said we'll be each other's Valentines forever).

Seriously. Ever gotten those mixed signals that say "love" one moment and "not romance" the next? It's really frustrating. And you don't want them to know you're upset, but at the same time, you want them to notice. But, inevitably, they don't. And you know you won't say anything.

So while my Valentine is getting her gift today-- or the next time I see her, anyway-- I don't think it means the same thing to her that it means to me.

Valentine's Day sucks.

Especially when, as you're trying to distract yourself from how restless you are and how much you want to get out and do something, your entire Tumblr dashboard is covered in Valentine's Day shit.

And you keep thinking about the package in your Jeep which contains a Valentine's Day gift and a cosplay prop//gift to your own damn self. And if you can see her today.

And sad and heavy things, and depressing and disturbing things, and things you really shouldn't be thinking about.

The Imp is back.

(Oh, I should probably explain him.)
There's this face I keep seeing in my dreams and my daydreams, and he has dark circles around his eyes as if he never sleeps. His teeth are big, numerous, and pointy; they look like shark's teeth. Oh, and he has no nose. (Or at least, a nose like Voldemort's: flat and snakelike.) I think it's the manifestation of my boredom, because he shows up the most when I'm bored, when my muse Ailill is quiet. (Occasionally it's accompanied by Ailill being stuck in a cage of some sort.)
Either way, when he's around, my muse is silent (or crying in a corner) and nothing creative gets done. So as bored as I am, I can't even draw or write it out.

This is generally when I end up zoning or doing stupid semi-reckless things. Or watching Doctor Who if I have an internet connection that can handle it (which, at the moment, I don't).

So here I rant and rave and curse at the Imp (who needs a name; the only reason I'm calling him the Imp is because that's what my mother called him when I drew him).

My sleep schedule has been bloody stupid lately. I read in a Yahoo featured article today, "Surprisingly, for chronic insomniacs going to bed later and getting up earlier can do the trick. If you’re lying in bed for eight hours but only sleeping for five, try going to bed at 1am and getting up at 6am. It’s tough, say the experts, but after a week or two you should find yourself nodding off in a trice. After that, go to bed 15 minutes’ earlier each week, slowly building up to the length of sleep your body actually needs."
Okay, I've tried that. Repeatedly. My body just will not sleep. I spent the entire night Sunday (and into Monday) trying to sleep, and realised I'd failed when my mother called at eight to wake me, because we were going to drop my car off at the shop, and I was still awake.

And my appetite's been off too. It sucks usually, but lately it's been non-existent. I eat anyway, because otherwise my parents will think I'm anorexic, but I'm still losing weight, and I forget to eat sometimes. A lot, actually; some days I only end up eating dinner because I've forgotten to eat all day, or because I'm so focussed on something else that I don't want to eat.

I hope I can at least visit my Valentine today, because otherwise I have the feeling I'm going to do something stupid, and she'd kill me for that.


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April 2017

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