Ryan's Personal Blog

No. Well, yes. I mean, one day, sure–just probably not today.

It is that time of the month again. I could be out going for a walk or hanging with friends, or, I don’t know, saving the world maybe. You don’t know. The point is, I’m not. And why am I not? Because Aunt Flo is a dick. For the first few days I just sit in my chair or lay in my bed, shaking in pain, able to do little else. Make my own food? Pfft, not likely. Nope, I’m just literally going to sit here like a lump, and gripe about the pain I’m in.

Here, I drew you a picture. I’m not sure why I drew it in Paint. I think I’ve been reading too much Hyperbole and a Half (Allie if you’re reading this, you can never read too much Hyperbole and a Half).

In hindsight/restrospect? (one of those words is likely the right one) I probably shouldn’t have used red. I was just trying to indicate the horror of it all. I could have used blue but blue isn’t very horrific.

On the pain chart, it tends to alternate between a 7 and a 9, where 7 is a comfort given that 9 is not. Seven feels like someone is punching me from inside my own body. Eight is my own guts and intestines being scooped out with a rusty sickle. Nine is being stabbed with a knife repeatedly in the guts. Ten, ten is crippling. Ten is rolling back and forth and crying “WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?”

Aside from the varying degrees of pain comes the heightened emotions. I was already a sensitive person, but when I’m like this, it’s emotions times 100. Just heard a slightly sad thing? We should cry about it. Something good happens? WE ARE ELATED. Something annoying? BE MAD. SUPER MAD. Movies and tv shows are an emotional roller coaster.

Then there’s the eating. I was trying to take better care of myself before this. I downloaded an app that would tell me how many calories everything was, and warn me if I was going overboard with my sugars or carbs. I wasn’t doing a terrible job, either. Substitute soda with coffee. Avoid the junk foods. Things in moderation. But that was then. This is now.

I can never tell if I’m hungry or full when I’m like this, so I default to, “I could eat.” And eat I do. Any candy I was saving for later, or had around just so I wouldn’t feel the urge to go buy more, is suddenly in danger of being eaten. Chocolate is not safe from me. For some reason, I could really go for some salty french fries. It’s becoming overwhelming.

If you’re reading this, roommate, I’m in desperate need of salty french fries. From that one place. You know the one. Please take pity and send me all the bad foods. I’ll pay you back. Also I need pads.

Or at least lock me away in a padded place where I can’t hurt anyone to get what I want. I promise I’ll be a better person again next week.

Update: My roommate got me fries! It was sheer ecstacy. Thank you, roomie!

Birthday came and went, and I had a wonderful time. I had my friends surprise me this year, and we had a lot of fun at the arcade. This weekend I’ve been chilling at my boyfriend’s father’s house, fishing off the docks. Boyfriend likes his life to remain private, so from here on out, he will be Skeletor. Kidding, I’ll call him Boyfriend. Mostly caught a lot of little ones, and one big one (but it got away). Most of them were catfish, and I got finned by half of them, which Boyfriend says means I’m a master angler now (yeah right!).

Caught more tonight than I did earlier today, but yesterday wasn’t bad fishing either. Would like to catch a big one at some point. As much as I love fishing, though, I feel bad every time I catch a fish, because of the hook they have to endure.

Not one of the better times in my life, but forging onward.

From the sound of it, it doesn’t seem like the neutering of the dog has changed him any. Despite the pain it causes him, he still goes out of his way to chase my cat back into my room.

Normally any enterprise I attempt fails. I know it before it starts, even though I try to remain positive and hopeful as to not sabotage myself. Well this time I may have found someone who can take me on as an apprentice to a craft (unfortunately somewhat rare in creation in the states) I’ve been wanting to learn. Wish me luck–I mean it.

Also feel like I’m having a moment of clarity today. Probably because I forced myself to get up at 1pm rather than sleep in ’til night. Life status: Struggling but pushing on.

And if I can’t get out and exercise, maybe I can do it where I am. Eegads, she has hope again!

It’s been a Dick Van Dyke opening-theme kind of night. Pizza arrives around midnight and since everyone but me has gone to bed, there are no lights on outside my room. So I’m stumbling about while the dogs bark, hit the dogs’ water bowl, get slimy water in my shoe, and finally make it to the door. Then the guy tells me he doesn’t have a pen. Afterward the 2-liter explodes on me.

In early December my family and our relatives celebrate Christmas. And for the last two or three years, my wee second cousin has put together a kids’ play for the adults. As the closest adult in the vicinity this time, I was forced to be the tree. Yes, the tree. To the tune of “I’m a Little Teapot” I sang “I am a tree, decorate me, open some gifts and enjoy some tea” with my arms straight out at my sides. Needless to say, people were VERY amused. Merry Christmas, y’all.

What a day… Ugh, will be glad to get home. Tip: Make sure when you leave a restaurant, you leave with your credit card.

Took the bus, went to the mattress store, browsed the selection, headed down the block and scoped out another mattress store. Found the perrrfect mattress and ordered it, and was lucky enough to get it delivered the same day.

Then Dani and I went to a Japanese steakhouse, her first time ever, and watched the chef perform and cook. I forgot my credit card when we left though, and by the time I recalled, we had walked like a mile or two to Home Depot and were in the check-out lane with some home improvement stuff.

Incredibly embarrassing, overall. Luckily I was allowed to use my credit card number, with someone working at the steakhouse reading the numbers. Then I got a cab and we headed over, picked up my card, and went home. We were so worn out.

“Is he bi-polar?” “No, he’s 18.”

In other unrelated news, another Brandon comic!

Fubar day for household. Unnecessary drama has me helping the contractor alone, with questions I can’t answer. Fighting back panic attack. This is a test. Darlana is MIA.

Later online, Ed told me there’s no need to fear or panic. “Do what most people do. Tell them the answer which will require the least amount of work. ie. ‘Is there lead paint?’ You say, ‘Nope, we got unleaded. I lick it every day to be sure.'” Haha.

Handyman has come and gone. Kitchen sink faucet, bathroom ceiling fixture, wall vent caps, thermometer, all replaced. Heat is working as intended. Filters in place. Back door knob installed. Only thing I’m not satisfied with is the hole was made too big in the back door, and the handyman had to stuff insulation into it, to keep the heat in. Now door faceplates have to be considered, out of the pocket.

Irritated also for another reason.

Bugger this. Let everyone else tra-la-la around the place, I’m going to take a freaking nap.

On the positive side, it’s nice to know I’m trusted enough to work with the handyman on things that have to be done with the house.

Another positive: Darlana is happy, so I’m happy.

More work to do and I just can’t, not right now, I’m too tired and my feet are killing me.

Helped make truffles.

New York State is cold.

(Understatement of the century)

Feeling overly accomplished for installing a paper towel holder and a hand towel holder today. Much learned about screws, anchors, and hammers. Yay.

And helping to install a new toilet seat earlier that day. Which sounds much harder than it was, because the old one had practically merged with the toilet.