Jesus Christ
Still not Chris Hiddleston
I actually have no witty and or sarcastic remark
oh my fuck..
He looks like what would happen if RDJ and DiCaprio made a baby. Good golly.
And then you realize that Forrest knows about his condition all along and your heart breaks a little.
*sniffs* MY FEELS!
Two of my friends said that the 9th Doctor was ugly, horrible, and there was no point to him. They said that no one liked him and everyone who did is an idiot. I told them tons of people liked him and they didn’t believe me.
So reblog this and I will write your url in a notebook labeled “People Who Appreciate Nine” and give it to them to let them become aware of the lovely people like you guys. Deadline is March 22nd.
An update of sorts. ^_^
Well I haven’t updated here in a long time. I know… I’m really weird about the internet these days and I’ve developed this oddity since we moved here. I guess it’s just the way things happen when I haven’t found work yet. And I am still working on it, it’s just hard when the job I wanted, I still can’t get yet. But in any case, I guess I should talk about something better, yes?
N’s birthday just passed. It was yesterday. I’m so happy he got to enjoy some of it. We had some fun at Fred Meyer looking at the Electronics department. ^_^ And today after he gets off of work, we’ll spend some time together. Now we’re the same age… until January. *chuckles*
But yes, life is all right at the current moment. We’re doing all right. We’ll do better when we can both work,lol. For now though, I’ll be good to take care of him and my friend by cooking and cleaning. I can be a wifey… I can! *laughs* I am. I take care of my boys and we have some great times when our friends come over. Game nights are fun as well. Here’s hoping something looks up soon! ^^
The Pangs of Missing
I don’t know how to say this right, so I’ll start at the beginning, I suppose.
In March, my grandmother died. As in, I was in the same joined room (sitting across the partition on the couch) as she was breathing her last breaths… And crying my head off because I knew that there was no one we could call. Nothing more we could do. Her time had come and I, a strong empath, was there to feel her candle be extinguished for all time. It hit me very hard. This was the grandmother that had been with me since before I was born, that was there for me my entire life (even after the dementia hit and slowly turned to Alzheimer’s) was now gone. I didn’t realize how hard this hit me until recently.
However, in May, N and I made plans to move to Oregon with a mutual friend of ours. My heart said it had enough of being safe and enough of the constant reminders as to what happened in that house. I had the wanderlust and we took advantage of it. We drove and drove, stopped off in Laramie, Wyoming (and woke up to frozen rain on the entirety of our car ^^) and then trucked it the last 1100 miles to Portland. Our friend gave us a mattress for the night and the next day we started unloading/unpacking.
This house he has is beautiful. There are flowers and trees… And a back yard. This place is wonderful — All these beautiful waterfalls and landscapes, places and people. No jobs yet, but we’re still plugging away at that. This place is awesome, and I thought it felt like home.
But now, a scant month or so since we’ve been settled in, I’ve started getting more and more depressed. I miss home. I miss my mom, my brother and his two small kids… I even miss my old job sometimes. But most of all, I find that little pieces of me are shattering off… Missing my grandmother is what hits me the hardest here. I could tell myself we’ll visit soon, but then my rational brain reminds me that we’d be visiting a cemetery… I usually like cemeteries. I guess at how the names on the headstones lived, who they loved, that sort of thing. There’s even one very close to this house. It’s nice to try and connect names with a mental picture of someone who is a stranger to you. But if we visited THAT particular cemetery, the names won’t be strange to me. I’d know the whole story that comes with that particular set of names on a headstone. And the story makes me happy and yet so, so sad. All at once.
I cry a lot now. I fall apart for what seems to be no reason. N tries, bless him. He tells me it’s okay. He holds me and rocks me and I can’t seem to make them stop. I can’t make the tears understand that it’s not time for that right now. It’s time to be a big girl, that I’ve done my grieving and it’s time to let my poor Mawmaw rest in the peace she deserved at the end… But my heart won’t hear me. It won’t let me leave it. It sees fit to make me weepy and cry at the drop of a hat when I hear a song or watch a show (re-watched a good bit of Dr Who recently… That was a mistake, I fear.) that strikes a deep chord, I can’t just tear up and move on. I hate to be such a weepy mess… it worries N and frankly, it worries me.
Ever since our first scare with Maw, I was terrified that she’d die. Mainly because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I knew I’d more than likely lose my shit… It’s come to a point where I think I may need a professional’s help on this one. I’m having detachment issues, abandonment issues(where there are none), and serious grief issues. The only problem is, if I can’t afford a trip to the lady doctor, a headshrinker’s definitely out of the question. *sigh*
Besides that, it’s almost 8:30 am and I’m just now able to feel exhausted enough to try laying down to sleep again. Depression and insomnia are friends that I can’t seem to get rid of. Here’s to try number 2. I hope my luck holds out.
I WANT!!!
I was bored and made this. Its a Police Box based ring with a tension set 1CT Princess Cut center stone. The three round stones is the Police Box sign, the two sets of four baguettes symbolize the windows, and a small princess cut below that to symbolize the instructions found on the front of the Police Box.
Drag Race and The Beast
I’ve been watching the latest season of RuPaul’s Drag Race and I have to say something: I think that all the dolls should stop throwing shade and be beautiful.
They’re all beautiful on the outside. Some, not so beautiful on the inside. But they’re all stunning under the right circumstances.
Me? It takes a long time and some help for me to even look stunning, let alone FEEL stunning. I’ve never worn a gown and thought: Oh gosh, I look damn beautiful in this. I’ve never worn a dress and thought: Watch out, world! Here’s pretty personified.
Any time I’m not getting dressed for work, I try to be comfortable. I never care what I wear because I’ve never seen the point in worrying about if I look like I’ve worked to look good. It just seems that no matter how hard I try, pretty sometimes occurs, but never outright flawless and beautiful. I’m just learning to *LIKE* how I look. It feels like I’ll never love it, no matter what clothes or how much make-up I paint myself with.
So when I see Ru’s Dolls on Drag Race take so little and make so much out of it…. I just want to cry when they start hating on each other. It makes me almost sick to think that they believe in what they’re saying and that anything ugly could come out when they all look better than I do on my best day when I actually put effort into looking feminine.
That’s why I rarely bother to try and look feminine. I just can’t do it without practice. And I fail at it so often, I don’t feel like practicing.
I suppose my question is: Should I ever bother to try again? Is there a point to me being beautiful on the outside when I know I have inner beauty? Can someone clear this up for me?
