Gustastic!

Leave an anonymous comment with:

A secret.
A compliment.
A non-compliment.
A song that reminds you of me.

Considering grad programs in Gender Studies with a particular focus in Queer & Trans* Studies. Seems my options are uh, individualized study at fancy-pants, payoutthenose universities here in sunny New York. Aw, shit.

Okay, I'm going to do a f*list cut and serious reorganization of my filters.

All people I know veryvery well IRL and longstanding intarweb friends, you are safe, and you probably know who you are.

Most casual IRL acquaintances will be baleeted. Nothing against you, guys, but I really don't want casual acquaintances on my eljay anymore.

Anyone I stumble across that I don't remember/don't care for will also be BALEETED.

If you are concerned about your f*list status, just comment.

hey wow, look at that, i have a livejournal

i'm alive, guys

a.) Computer is in the shop.
b.) As soon as my computer comes out, there is a 99% chance I'm starting another journal.
c.) While I will still pseudo-update this journal, there's a remarkably good chance that 98% of my real-life friends will not be friended on the new journal.
d.) Why? Well, I'm a secretive bastard and too many people I know IRL are on my livejournal, which is totally counterproductive to its original point.
e.) Things still fucking suck ass but we're managing.

okay she's fine she's veryvery drunk and in the hospital

LIFE IS GREAT D:

so my mother is missing

SHIT ON TOP OF SHIT ON TOP OF SHIT

SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU SAY TOO MUCH

Would it be easier, or would I actually be happier?

If this actually works out, I am seriously going to laugh.

PS: I am also really mad at the FDA for considering taking combination cold medications off of the shelves. No Zicam, no Nyquil? No nothing? Because people are too fucking stupid to understand the contents of the shit they're putting into their bodies?

WINTER IS GOING TO BE AN AWESOME SEASON FULL OF PNUEMONIA

UGH emo emo rant whine

we need to get the fuck out of here, i am so tired of this shit

So, I went to go have an eye exam and get my glasses in order before my insurance runs out next year. Everything goes fine until the payment portion. My grandmother has it out with the employees, and loudly outs me in the middle of the store by repetitive use of the pronoun "she".

Thanks, grandma.

I got an e-mail from a insanely wealthy college girl who needs a personal assistant. She basically needs somebody to update her technology and help her with her wardrobe.

Are you fucking serious.

I had better get this gig. Seriously.

Thirteen, I think. Ranging from LI, upstate, and the city.

Don't have a favorite, because I haven't found it yet.

Least favorite: the apartment in Queens Village. That place was beyond horrible in so many ways.

+ I got the Customer-Assistant position. So, while I won't be doing any restraint, I also manage to stay clean.
- The job is approximately three miles from the train.
- The bus that runs down this road runs once every hour and a half, and at odd times.
+ I am in considerably better shape than I thought I was.
- But I am really going to hate the walk back to the train after a twelve-hour shift.
+ Whatever, though, because it's only on the weekends and it's not like I won't be able to afford cabs soon.

I have training today for this vaccination clinic. It's for an hour and a half, at the main headquarters. It's roughly a hole in the wall, and everybody there, while obviously not bummy, seems to wear casual clothing. They gave me no guidelines on what to wear and the office doesn't open until 10, when I will be on my way.

Are jeans okay?

Interview went well. The interviewer said she really enjoyed the chat. Probably won't get the job, though - they need people for weekends and I'm booked.

Howeverrrrr, I just sent a resume to the LI GBLT Center.

Imagine that.

Weekdays with gays and transfolk and lesbians oh my! and weekends with fuzzy creatures. Holy shit, that'd be about as ideal as Long Island could get. CROSS YOUR FINGERS AND CONCENTRATE REALLY HARD

COMPEL THEM TO CALL ME

I think I angered a friend because I told him he was not experienced enough to care for a feral, young rabbit he found in his yard. He didn't even bother to read the information I sent him.

If there is anything I want people to learn from me is not to fuck with nature. C'mon, guys, is it that hard?

+ Done with the semester.
+ Scored a job at a low-cost vaccination clinic that travels to petshops in the New York area.
- Aforementioned job is wayyyyy part-time. Weekends primarily, 8-12 hr. shifts.
+ Obviously gay manager of a watch store wants somebody to help him with the shop. Hoping this will be full-time, and I can get some swanky discounts.
- My watch is dead. Going to an interview at a watch shop with a dead watch is ghetto. Cheers to standard formal men's shirts having long sleeves!
+ I learned one solid lesson this semester: My writing skills have helped me beyond measure. I attribute the above watch-shop interview to my writing skills - I have no keyholder experience but I showed I'm no goon (except the SA kind :V) by my write-up of my past job responsibilities. I also managed to nab A's on almost every single paper I wrote this semester, meaning I might have a chance in hell when my grades come in.
+ Even if I don't score this interview, I have acquired some genuinely well-fitting, nice interview clothes. I dread dressing up, but the old saying is that it's not a perfect world, and I could use all the points I can get.
+ I've started drawing again in anticipation of an Advanced Drawing class I'm subjecting myself to next semester. This is of my own volition and effort. Why? Well, if writing (a hobby I pursued only in passing, but honed nonetheless) is moving me forward, then I might want to reconsider withdrawing the label of "time-wasters" in reference to my other part-time hobbies.
- I am frustrated with living here. Long Island is really awful in general, but I am not okay with living at home. The bodegaman down the block asked where my boobs went. If this is not plainly indicative of the marked ambiguity coloring my every interaction in this god-forsaken place, I must be crazy.
+ This is lighting the fire under my ass.
+ A very, very serious fire under my ass. We need to get the hell out of this town and just go somewhere where we don't have to be reminded of our histories at every turn. It's not like I'm trying to outrun myself, but for the love of christ, I just want to be "that gay fellow who lives in apartment 2C" or something. Unremarkable. In this town, there is no anonymity.
+ And so, with that, this summer is dedicated to working my ass off so we can put a deposit down in a few months. I'm tired of this, and we're going to scrap our ways out of this cycle.

And now, for the real news:
- - - - - - x2324234 I have a really huge, insanely painful pimple and it's making my face throb.