I am Not Dead; A Lizard Light Tale.

Despite what you may be thinking due to my mysterious and somewhat lengthy absence, I am Not Dead. I am, in fact, alive, though not with a Capital A, only with a lowercase a. I'm sure I've said something about not doing well with Midwestern winters, and though it's still technically NOT winter, as far as I know, it is only a technicality.

I've been using my lizard light to trick myself into feeling like it's daytime (and am sitting under its blue LED glare at this very moment), then going to take a nap. On Friday night I stayed up until 2 a.m. out of sheer stubbornness, then slept until 3 p.m. on Saturday. And this is after using my light regularly. This does not bode well for the coming months.

I would really love to move. I have my sights set on Southern California, where I grew up. "Winter" was a cool, wet season. The plants got droopy and a little sparse, there was the occasional three-day torrential downpour, and coat meant the same thing as jacket because, face it, your typical everyday Southern Californian doesn't need a real coat. Thirty-two degrees is freezing. Literally! Zero degrees is something which simply does not occur.

There is, however, little chance that I can leave the state. My child has another parent, and long story short, that other parent will not allow me to move. Again, very long story.

So one time, at the cheese factory, they wouldn't let me wear a ring because it was a hazard to have jewelery above the waist, but the palm-sized stuffed turtle I had clipped to my belt loop was fine. Go figure.

To the Batmobed!

I know, I haven't written in forever. You forgive me, right? I had a minor stress attack and abandoned everything to rebuild my sims bigger and better, denied myself naps, and used my lizard light. (Victory there, at least.) So my mind is working again, and at 2 a.m. I should be in bed fast asleep.

Why the hell am I up?

Easy answer: I remembered that I'm a kickass graphic designer, when I get into the zone. Which was about three and a half hours ago. BUT in those three and a half hours, I followed a poorly-written but well-executed tutorial and made myself a crystal ball.

I hate watermarks, so I didn't make one. I just outright messed it up, and it was fun so I'm happy. Besides, who knows when an image that says "Sucks to Be You" could come in handy?

But I digress. I played on Photoshop for three and a half hours and had to show off, and now I'm actually going to sleep. For a few hours. We'll see if I let myself nap again in the morning.

Diabetes and Bread

Do you ever consider eating something weird just because you're too lazy to prepare real food? No? Weirdo. ;) Kidding, I love you, you know that, right? Anyway, I was very lazy that day, and I had just read this awesome post. I had a moment's reflexive butter and honey sandwich? That's weird. before realizing that I like my bagels with butter and honey. In fact, I wanted a butter and honey bagel right now.

Unfortunately I was out of bagels, so I had to use regular bread. The thought of having buttered bread without it being toasted didn't appeal to me, and since half my stuff is in a storage unit, I don't have a toaster right now. I know I can put the bread in the oven to toast it, but that takes time and I was hungry. I didn't want to wait for toast. Plus, the idea of getting a butter knife, crossing the kitchen, opening the fridge, hunting down the butter, opening the container, then spreading on just the right amount before having to put everything away again just sounded like too much work.

Being a creative soul, when I opened the cupboard to get out the honey, the sight of the chocolate syrup sparked unnatural thoughts in my mind. What if, I asked myself, I put chocolate syrup on the bread with the honey?! The idea was both tantalizing and frightening. Who would do that to himself? Honey is awesome, chocolate syrup is awesome, but it doesn't go on bread! I didn't have anything else to put the chocolate on, so I figured I'd walk on the wild side and see what happened. If you never branch out you never truly live, right?

It was a party in my mouth. It was delicious, the zingy sweetness of the honey combining with the mellow flavor of the chocolate and sinking just so into the bread. It was victory, and it was happiness filtered into its purest form and transfigured into food.

It can't be good for me. It's got to be a one-way ticket to diabetes, and so I've only had a couple of these masterpieces since the first one. But it was soooo good, and I'd never have discovered it if I hadn't been lazy, hungry, and out of bagels.

My friends think it's weird, but these things get discovered somehow. The first time I dunked a fry in my vanilla shake was a series of events. The restaurant was out of chocolate shakes, my fries were too hot, and I was very, very hungry. I always eat the fries first because I'm not crazy about cold fries, but I can eat a cold hamburger and be okay. I suggested it to gross my sister out, and when she dared me to do it, I did. It was awesome.

Mock me if you must, as you eat your eggs with ketchup or your chili with beans. Weirdo.

If it's too loud, you're too old.

The neighbors below me have knocking issues, but at least those are during the day. I can't really fault the neighbors next to me for getting up and showering for their day(night) around the time I'm going to bed, but there's something not quite right about the people behind me and their nighttime parties.

It's almost 1 a.m. and they got started maybe half an hour ago. I should have been in bed already, but there was epic shit happening on the internet and I got distracted.

I've tried to wait it out before, but about 2:30 or 3:00 in the morning I usually give up. They have music blasting, people walking around outside who usually end up yelling at each other, and all I can think is, at the other university housing place, Public Safety would have shut them down by now. There are quiet hours, and there are quiet hours in the dorms, too.

*looks up at the title of this post*

Yeah, yeah, I'm too old, what of it? This is family housing, which means that there are adult college students here, at least several of which have kids in second grade and younger. Do they sleep? Do they study? Are there quiet hours here, or am I saving $200/semester to stay up two hours later at night? Admittedly, there's a lot less house to clean when you're in an apartment this small, so it's not all bad.

ZZZzzz... *snorts self awake and looks bleary-eyed around the page*

My bedroom is closer to the noise... I'm putting it off... I'm thinking about napping again. Naps are very nice. I have things to do, though. I need to get my portfolio online so I can get a job, since pursuing a Masters in Marketing isn't working out. Not that I'm lazy or I'm not smart enough, but Marketing isn't my thing. I thought I could force it since my school doesn't offer the degree I want (in fact, no school in the state does), but no. Cannot take my art degree and add math. Accounting has pwned me twice now.

I was going to write about awkward one-armed hugs and the possibility that a friend outed my online persona to my family, but I think I'll go attempt sleep instead. I'll turn on my waves-noise-thing-app especially loud and retire to my imaginary beach house. Maybe my friends are still having a bonfire celebration on my private beach, and I retired with a certain musician, worn out from the festivities.

I got the idea from my uncle, and yes, I know I'm rambling when I should have just stopped. He's one of those lucky few who falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow, because "I'm in my hot tub." The app that makes the waves-noises is better than a little hot tub. I have the Pacific Ocean, baby. I've had trouble falling asleep since I was a kid, and since I started the white noise and hanging out by the beach every night, I've been out in less than half an hour. BOO. YAH.

Goodnight.